Interrogation Under White Lights
She straightened.
Focus.
"Co sit," she said coldly.
The handcuffs glinted under the fluorescent light, tal catching white glare like a blade edge.
Julian didn’t move imdiately.
Instead, he tilted his head slightly, a lazy smile curving his lips. "You’re interrogating out here? In the hallway?" he asked lazily, gesturing at the open workspace filled with officers moving back and forth. Papers shuffled. Phones rang. Boots thudded against polished tile.
Charlotte Bonds shook her head once, as if clearing fog from her mind. That strange voice from earlier still lingered at the edge of her thoughts, irritating her.
"Not here," she said.
Her jaw tightened.
She was already irritated—by the pressure of the case, by the sleepless nights, and by that strange phenonon of hearing his inner voice. And now he was standing there smiling like this was so late-night social visit instead of a police investigation.
She inhaled once, sharply.
"Don’t be dramatic. Follow ." she said flatly. "We’ll talk inside."
Julian’s smile widened.
"Lead the way, Officer Bonds."
She turned without replying.
Julian followed.
And he noticed.
Of course he noticed.
His eyes lingered.
From behind, Julian’s gaze—traitorous and shaless—lowered.
Her steps were firm, confident. Boots struck the floor in steady rhythm. The fitted uniform hugged her cleanly—professional, controlled. But control did not erase form. The fabric traced the natural sway of her hips. Each step deliberate. The curve of her ass moved subtly beneath the dark cloth—strong, round, unmistakably feminine.
(A peach-shaped ass. Seriously. That’s illegal. That ass looks soft enough to sink your hand into. That ass... seriously unfair. Like a perfectly ripened peach. And those boobs—)
His throat tightened.
(—E-cup. Even restrained, they still have presence. How is that legal in a police uniform?)
His gaze lingered shalessly.
Charlotte’s back stiffened.
Her steps slowed—just a fraction.
There it was again.
That voice.
Clear.
Cheeky.
Talking about her ass.
About her boobs.
Heat crept up her neck. Not fear. Not even anger. Sothing dangerously close to embarrassnt.
No man had ever dared objectify her so brazenly. Most were intimidated. The few who tried were shut down before they could finish a sentence.
And yet—
He was walking behind her with that sa relaxed smile, as if butter wouldn’t lt in his mouth.
She stopped abruptly and turned.
Julian nearly walked into her.
He blinked once, then smiled with exaggerated innocence.
"Officer Bonds," he said lightly, tilting his head, "why stop suddenly? Did you forget sothing?"
His eyes flicked to the handcuffs in her grip.
"By any chance... you want to put those on ? Is that why you stopped? I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong."
His tone was playful, but his eyes were sharp—testing.
Charlotte shook her head again, as if trying to shake loose the echo in her skull. She could still hear it. Every shaless comnt. Every ridiculous thought.
Her ears burned hotter.
Shaless.
Arrogant.
Infuriating.
And for so reason, her pulse was slightly faster.
She let out a cold snort.
Before he could say another word, she stepped forward and cuffed him with swift efficiency.
tal clicked around his wrists.
Julian only smiled. He didn’t resist. Didn’t even look surprised.
He thought he had irritated her beyond tolerance. He thought the cuffs were simply punishnt for his flirting.
He had no idea.
"Stop smiling," she said coldly. "You’re also a suspect. Go inside and wait for ."
She pointed toward a nearby office.
The interrogation rooms were full tonight, so they had to make do with a temporary space.
Julian obediently walked in.
The room slled faintly of paper and coffee. A desk. Two chairs. A filing cabinet. Stark lighting overhead.
Soon, Charlotte entered with a cup of black coffee. Steam rose from it in faint spirals. She took a slow sip. The bitterness hit her tongue hard, cutting through fatigue like a blade.
She set the cup down.
"Did you hear about what happened at the Lunar Citadel today?"
She sat across from him, teal eyes sharp and assessing.
"Yes, it’s all over the news." Julian nodded calmly.
"Alright. As the forr owner of the Lunar Citadel, you’re also a suspect. Let’s start the record."
She picked up a pen, flipping open a notebook with crisp precision.
"Wait," Julian frowned slightly, leaning back despite the cuffs. "How am I a suspect?"
He looked almost offended. Almost.
[Damn it, you’re the suspect.]
[My family is so rich, why would I bother with this?]
[That email was sent by , okay?]
[Why would I report myself for a cri?]
Charlotte’s pen paused.
There it was again.
Clear.
Unmistakable.
She wasn’t hallucinating.
She forced her expression to remain neutral. She couldn’t afford to dwell on the fact that she could hear his thoughts. That problem would have to wait.
The email.
He sent it.
Her gaze sharpened slightly.
She wasn’t unreasonable. The D’Aurelius household had wealth beyond asure. They had no need to dirty their hands with drugs.
"Alright," she said evenly, twirling the pen between her fingers, "I admit calling you a suspect might be a bit much. But you still need to cooperate with our investigation."
She leaned forward slightly. "Do you know any clues about this case?"
"No," Julian replied smoothly. "I bought the hotel a while ago just to celebrate Selene Aurevale’s birthday. I sold it right after."
He smiled faintly, using Selene as a shield without hesitation.
[I already sent you everything I know, okay?]
[But I did sell the hotel because I found out those scumbags one way Deaf and One way Blind were up to sothing.]
[Normally, I’d report them directly, but Bear insisted on buying the hotel. I had no choice.]
[That bastard killed soone at my hotel, made it look like a suicide, and then caused a scene to fra .]
[If I had any evidence, I’d report him too.]
Charlotte’s fingers tightened slightly around the pen.
Her pulse spiked.
Bear.
The murder case she had been obsessing over for days—the woman in the bathtub, the staged suicide, the missing hair—
It was him?
When she arrested Bear earlier today, sothing had felt off. Too calm. Too arrogant. Like he believed he was untouchable.
Her teal eyes lifted slowly to Julian’s face.
He was still smiling. Still relaxed.
As if he had just handed her a loaded gun—without ever opening his mouth.
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