The Retired CEO's Guide To Being Spoiled-Chapter 149: A Palette of Warmth

Time, elusive and relentless, slipped away like water flowing through one’s fingers. Before they knew it, a stretch of uncharacteristically tranquil days had passed, settling over their lives like a gentle, settling dust.

The strategic partnership agreement between the Caldwell Empire and Iris Visuals had entered a phase of stable implementation. Recently, the specific investment items associated with the project no longer required Julian Sterling to intervene directly or soil his hands with the minutiae of daily operations. Matters such as the construction of the development zone on the plot of land they had previously targeted, or the erection of the specialized research facility, were now personally overseen by Ethan Caldwell himself. With the imposing presence of a man of his caliber supervising the site, the progress of the construction reached a speed that was nothing short of astonishing. Everything was proceeding exactly along the trajectory that had been meticulously set forth in the initial blueprints.

The Sterling family, too, had become noticeably more obedient in recent days. Perhaps, following the scandalous incident where Aaron Sterling was taken away by the police, they had finally learned how to behave with a modicum of propriety. Julian heard Ethan mention in passing that Aaron had been bailed out by Gabriel Cole while awaiting trial, but he did not concern himself too much with the particulars of the legal proceedings. At its core, the act of reporting Aaron to the authorities had been partly to vent his own accumulated anger, but primarily to serve as a stark warning to that specific group of people. From the very beginning, both he and Ethan had understood clearly that expecting Aaron to be dealt with permanently at this stage was an impossibility. The two of them were merely testing the waters to see just how much weight Aaron occupied in Gabriel Cole’s heart.

Judging by current events, it appeared he was quite significant indeed. But it did not matter. Thanks to this incident, Julian could be considered to have delivered a firm message of deterrence to Gabriel Cole and the rest of the Sterling clan. They needed to wake up and face reality: the Julian Sterling of today was no longer a soft persimmon that anyone could squeeze, mold, or manipulate at their whim.

This rare and precious peace provided the perfect conditions for Julian to focus his energy on his next significant personal goal: the academy transfer examination.

Since he was transitioning from a major in Management, a field of rigid structures, to a discipline that was purely artistic, the requirements were stringent. In addition to the standard review of his transcripts and conduct evaluations from his previous institution, Julian was also required to participate in a mandatory aptitude test in drawing, alongside a specialized theoretical examination regarding cultural arts.

For anyone else, this mountain of requirements might have weighed upon them like a thousand pounds pressing down on their shoulders, a source of paralyzing anxiety. However, for Julian, this undertaking was as light and effortless as a leisurely stroll through a garden in full bloom.

Throughout the period of preparing for the exam, Seraphina Cole still frequently checked in, often via video calls, to review and correct his sketches. This young but fastidious woman did not hesitate to point out flaws, offering him sharp pointers on composition and color coordination to ensure the paintings achieved a greater sense of harmony.

And the topic he heard this girl discuss the most in recent times was not merely technical skill, but rather matters concerning his artistic style.

"It is truly strange, Jules." Seraphina had once said, narrowing her eyes as she scrutinized a landscape painting he had just completed. Her fingers tapped lightly against her own canvas on the screen, emphasizing her point: "In the past, no matter how technically perfect your paintings were, I always felt there was a layer of dark, misty fog, a sense of absolute despair, shrouding them. It felt incredibly suffocating, as if the artist were trapped inside a glass cage with no way out, screaming into the silence."

She looked up to meet his gaze through the screen, a smile full of hidden meaning playing on her lips: "But lately, your brushstrokes have broken free from that initial gloom. The colors are gradually becoming brighter, filled with more vitality. Look at this, the sunlight in this painting... it is genuinely warm."

Julian could only offer a polite, dismissive smile in return, choosing not to respond verbally. Yet, deep within his heart, he understood exactly where that change stemmed from. When the soul is no longer solitary, when every morning one wakes up next to a steady, grounding warmth, how could the art one creates remain as cold and desolate as it once was?

...

Today, he had an appointment with Lucas Hill and was required to venture out for a trip.

To be honest, initially, he did not want to go at all. Recently, following the various upheavals and the spoiling indulgence he received from Ethan Caldwell, Julian was gradually trending towards becoming a bona fide recluse. Unless there was something absolutely necessary or unavoidable, he would absolutely not take half a step out of his front door.

It was just that this time, Lucas kept insisting, clamoring that Julian must come out for a face-to-face meeting. Lucas claimed they needed to discuss the next phase of their plans directly with several potential partners, and that they could not simply exchange ideas through a computer screen forever.

When he learned that Julian intended to go out, Ethan immediately furrowed his brows in disapproval. He wanted Julian to take at least two professional bodyguards with him. Ever since that kidnapping incident, the man’s nerves regarding safety had been pulled as tight as a bowstring whenever Julian left his line of sight.

But Julian did not like that idea in the slightest. He was going to meet friends and discuss business, not going on a military parade where he needed an entourage to herald his arrival. Bringing along bodyguards with faces as cold as stone would only frighten the other party and cause the atmosphere to become unnecessarily tense and stifling.

After a bout of negotiation and bargaining, Ethan finally had to take a step back and compromise. Julian simply told him to arrange for the private chauffeur to drive him to The Ebony Lounge, that familiar, high-end private club frequented by the upper class, and that would be the end of it.

"Going there?"

Ethan asked, his large hand slipping inside Julian’s sleepwear to caress the younger man’s waist possessively. Recently, the two of them hadn’t engaged in any wild behavior, yet this tactile reassurance seemed to have become a habit for the man. His voice in the morning carried a specific raspiness, a sexy huskiness characteristic of the early hours: "When will you be finished with work?"

"Probably around six or seven, something like that." Julian replied lazily.

He shifted his body, nuzzling his head into the man’s broad chest like a lazy cat seeking a comfortable spot to nap, before lying completely on top of Ethan. Julian’s weight was negligible compared to the solid, muscular frame beneath him.

It was obvious that he could feel the distinct change in the man’s body beneath him. That scorching, hardened length was pressing up, prodding against his thigh through the thin fabric of their pajama bottoms. It was a normal physiological reaction for a man in the morning, but when one’s lover is lying in one’s arms, that reaction becomes all the more intense and undeniable.