Chapter 1209
No.1
She was in a room with a completely drunk Alexander.
They had a history together.
How was that just 'running into a dog'?
He suddenly rose from his seat.
He advanced toward her slowly, one deliberate step at a time.
Isabella frowned. "What—"
He was already in front of her before she could finish.
He scooped her into his arms effortlessly.
He carried her straight to the first-floor bathroom.
No.2
Unease prickled her skin. "What are you doing, Nathaniel?"
His silence felt ominous and distant.
He shut the bathroom door firmly behind them.
He placed her inside the large bathtub.
He turned on the water tap without a word.
Isabella tried to get up.
Nathaniel pressed her down firmly by her shoulders.
"Clean up," he instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument.
It finally dawned on her.
No.3
He was an even bigger clean freak than she was.
He was making her bathe because she encountered Alexander?
"Nathaniel, it was nothing. He just grabbed my wrists, touched my shoulder—"
"Just?" His eyes darkened dangerously. "You were expecting more than that?"
She was right. He was jealous.
Nathaniel took her wrists firmly.
He began rubbing them under the running water.
He scrubbed from her left wrist to her right.
He was so thorough her skin turned red.
No.4
He showed no intention of stopping.
The thought of Alexander touching her wrists infuriated him.
He rarely got to touch his own woman.
How dare that man lay a finger on her?
And her shoulder.
Did he grab her shoulder too?
The mere thought...
Nathaniel's eyes grew stormy.
He reached out to clean her shoulder.
No.5
His hand landed on her damp shirt.
Their eyes met. Both of them jolted at the contact.
"Get out," she insisted. "I'll wash myself thoroughly."
His trance broke. "I'm not convinced," he asserted.
He looked around and grabbed a towel.
He covered her with it roughly.
Then he continued washing her shoulder through the fabric.
Isabella was utterly speechless at his possessiveness.
Nathaniel, this man… Did he really intend to wash her personally?
No.6
Wrapped in the towel, Isabella felt as if she were at a luxury spa. Was the CEO of Blackwood Corporation actually giving her a scrub-down? Fine. If he insisted on doing it himself, she might as well relax and let him ‘serve’ her instead of resisting.
Nathaniel’s hands moved from her left shoulder to the right, rubbing until her skin flushed pink. He paused, his gaze sharp. “That’s enough for now. Next time, it won’t be just this.” His voice held a dark, possessive edge. Isabella’s heart stuttered. Next time? What did he mean by that?
She could sense Nathaniel was plotting something.
But it didn’t matter. She would never let Alexander get that close to her again anyway. Nathaniel brought her a fresh set of clothes and left the bathroom. After changing, Isabella picked up her soiled garments to toss them in the washer, but Nathaniel intercepted. He took them from her hands and threw them straight into the trash.
Straight into the bin! That jacket was brand new—almost ten thousand dollars! Just because he was filthy rich didn’t mean he could be this wasteful. Nathaniel’s expression remained stern and unreadable.
He sat at the dining table. “Dinner is ready.”
Isabella walked over and took a seat, suddenly remembering Oliver. “I’ll ask Momo to join us.”
“No need,” Nathaniel said. “He already ate before he fell asleep.” On the sofa, Oliver immediately pretended to be deeply asleep again. Waa…! I can’t wake up now! Mommy can’t know Daddy lied…!!
Unaware that Oliver had been awake, Isabella began eating with Nathaniel. The table was laden with gourmet dishes: seafood platters with scallops and imported prawns, white truffle pasta, gold-leaf pizza, seafood curry, caviar chocolate pudding… Each dish was exquisitely prepared and looked incredibly expensive.
No.7
Isabella frowned. What was going on? Wasn’t he slicing ginger earlier? Why were there no ginger-infused dishes in sight?
Nathaniel’s face gave nothing away. He picked up a bottle of red wine, ready to open it, but Isabella stopped him. “Wait! Today calls for a celebration. I want you to try something special.” She walked to the mailbox and retrieved two bottles. One was a frosted glass bottle containing a dreamy peach-colored nectar. The other was an elegant glass bottle filled with a deep rose-red liquid.
She set the peach nectar aside and brought the red wine over. She poured half a glass for him and half for herself. Nathaniel eyed the unlabeled bottle skeptically. No brand, no origin—just mysterious liquid in a plain bottle. “Is this safe to drink?” he asked.
“Absolutely. Try it!” Isabella urged. She raised her glass and took a small sip. Instantly, her muscles relaxed. She had to admit, Uncle Silas’s homemade wine was in a league of its own.
Nathaniel took a cautious sip, expecting some cheap swill. To his surprise, the flavor surpassed even wines worth tens of millions. His sharp gaze settled on Isabella, lingering. “Isabella, how many more secrets are you hiding from me?” His tone was intrigued, almost tender.
Throughout Nathaniel's—and Oliver's—stay at Isabella's residence, she consistently found ways to astonish him.
Each new layer she revealed only deepened her enigma.
Nathaniel had never encountered a woman who could captivate his interest while remaining so profoundly mysterious.
Isabella's crimson lips curved into a teasing smile. "What about you?"