Besides, a dark curiosity is riding me now. I want to know what he learned this morning, what kind of information his brutal methods availed him. I want to know what phone calls he’s planning to make and to whom he’s planning to speak. I want to know everything there is to know about Julian, no matter how much the reality of his life horrifies me.

When we come up to the office building, I see that the door is made of metal. Just like on the island, Julian opens it by submitting to a retina scan—a security measure that no longer surprises me. Given what I now know about the types of weapons Julian’s company produces, his paranoia appears quite justified.

We go inside, and I see that it’s all one big room, with a large oval table near the entrance and a wide desk with a bunch of computer screens at the back. Flatscreen TV monitors line the walls, and there are comfortable-looking leather chairs around the table. Everything seems very high-tech and luxurious. To me, Julian’s office looks like a cross between an executive conference room and some place I imagine the CIA might meet to strategize.

As I stand there, gaping at everything, Julian places his hands on my shoulders from behind. “Welcome to my lair,” he murmurs, his fingers tightening for a brief moment. Then he lets go of me and walks over to sit down behind the desk.

I follow him there, driven by burning curiosity.

There are six computer monitors sitting on the table. Three of them are showing what appears to be a live feed from various surveillance cameras, and two are filled with different charts and blinking numbers. The last computer is the one closest to Julian, and it’s displaying some type of unusual-looking email program.

Intrigued, I take a closer look, trying to figure out what I’m seeing. “Are you monitoring your investments?” I ask, peering at the two computers with the blinking numbers. I’m far from a stock guru, but I’ve seen a couple of movies about Wall Street, and Julian’s setup reminds me of the traders’ desks they had there.

“You could say that.” When I turn to look at him, Julian leans back in his chair and smiles at me. “One of my subsidiaries is a hedge fund of sorts. It dabbles in everything from currencies to oil, with a focus on special situations and geopolitical events. I have some very qualified people running it, but I find that stuff quite interesting and occasionally like to play with it myself.”

“Oh, I see…” I stare at him, fascinated. This is yet another side of Julian I knew nothing about before. It makes me wonder how many more layers I’m going to uncover with time. “So who are you planning to call?” I ask, remembering the phone calls he mentioned earlier.

Julian’s smile widens. “Come here, baby, have a seat,” he says, reaching out to grab my wrist. Before I know it, he’s got me sitting on his lap, his arms effectively caging me between his chest and the edge of the desk. “Just sit here and be quiet,” he whispers in my ear, and quickly types something on his keyboard while I sit there, breathing in his warm scent and feeling his hard body all around me.