Julian took a deep, steadying breath, pulling the phone from his ear after Scarlett severed the connection with a clinical finality. The explosive rage that had consumed him moments ago began to undergo a chilling transformation, hardening into a resolve far more dangerous. He realized that acting on impulse, as Laura had warned, would only serve to exile him from Scarlett's life forever.
He would not go to Paris. Not tonight.
Returning to his desk, he stared at the monitors still displaying the unedited images of Scarlett and Sean's intimacy against the backdrop of the Eiffel Tower. His fingers drummed against the oak surface in a rhythmic, predatory cadence.
"You want to play the professional, Scarlett?" Julian murmured to the empty room. "Fine. We shall play by the most professional of rules."
He pressed the intercom. "Jonathan, cancel the private jet to Paris. Get Laura back in here. Now."
