Chapter 1907
No.1
“None, sir. I’ll handle it immediately.” Dominic turned and left.
His boss was utterly bewitched. Reason had flown out the window. Refusal was not an option.
The buzzing of her phone finally roused Isabella. Half-asleep, she answered.
“Ms. Montgomery, I hope I’m not interrupting.” It was Beatrice. “I am so relieved I didn’t terminate our contract. The event was a phenomenal success. I owe you a great debt of gratitude.”
Isabella made a soft, acknowledging sound. Her eyes remained closed.
“There’s another matter,” Beatrice continued. “An esteemed gentleman was deeply impressed by your strategic planning. His granddaughter is currently embroiled in a… reputation crisis. He is desperate for your assistance. He has authorized me to say he will pay any price. He is a deeply respected artist. A titan in his field. I sincerely hope you can help him.”
Isabella’s brow creased. Any price? Money wasn’t an incentive. But extra funds for Oliver’s toys were always welcome.
Her current plan for Victoria required patience. She was waiting for Victoria to make her move. The execution was still weeks away. She had the time.
“Fine,” Isabella agreed.
No.2
“Thank you! Thank you! He will be waiting for you at The Ivy. Tonight at eight.”
Isabella felt a wave of gratitude wash over her. She had been particularly harsh toward Nathaniel just days before. The memory of their confrontation at GoldenPhoenix resurfaced clearly. “Actually,” Gloria continued, “I should extend my thanks to Alexander. Without his interference, our collaboration might never have happened. I can see he genuinely cares for you. His remorse is palpable. Perhaps you should give him another chance.”
“Gloria,” Isabella’s voice was icy. “Do I strike you as someone who would ever take back a discarded man?” She ended the call abruptly without waiting for a reply.
Sitting up, Isabella stretched her stiff muscles. Her eyes widened slightly when she noticed the time. Noon. She had slept far longer than intended.
Stepping out of the bedroom, her gaze immediately found Nathaniel. He was seated on the plush sofa, one leg elegantly crossed over the other. A file rested on his lap. The afternoon sun streamed through the window, casting a golden halo around his powerful frame. He looked every bit the untouchable aristocrat—commanding, expensive, and devastatingly handsome.
He glanced up, his dark eyes meeting hers. “You’re finally awake. Lunch is on the table.” His voice was a low, smooth baritone.
“Excellent.” Isabella let out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh. How did he manage to look so perfect constantly?
She moved to the dining table and began to eat. A question suddenly popped into her mind. She looked over at him. “Actually, I meant to ask. Did you find the bed… strange last night? Any nightmares? Or perhaps some unexpected memories surfaced?”
Nathaniel’s brow furrowed slightly. Memories? The only thing that came to mind when he thought of that bed was the night five years ago. He would never have chosen this hotel again if not for the emergency flood. He couldn’t tell her that, of course. His gaze remained steady on her. “No. Why? Did you?”
No.3
Isabella gave a slow nod. “It was odd. I had a rather intense nightmare. Things I shouldn’t be dreaming about.”
A shadow passed behind Nathaniel’s eyes. Was she referring to the incident with Vincent Moreau? Did she dream about that man? His expression tightened almost imperceptibly, but his voice was calm. “It was likely the storm. The lightning, the rain. It can affect one’s subconscious. Don’t dwell on it. The past is over.”
Isabella nodded again and resumed eating, though a faint crease remained on her forehead. Was it really just the weather? She had spent the last five years hardening herself, training to be immune to such external influences.
“Isabella.” Nathaniel’s voice cut through her thoughts.
She looked up, meeting his intense gaze. “Hmm?”
His eyes held hers, serious and unwavering. “You shouldn’t let your past define you. I meant what I said before. It doesn’t matter to me.” His tone was deep, resonant, and utterly sincere.
Isabella’s heart gave a peculiar flutter. Was he trying to comfort her? He truly seemed unbothered by her history. The genuineness in his eyes was undeniable. She quickly looked down, focusing on finishing her meal. “We should head back,” she said, changing the subject. “Christopher is waiting for us at the estate.”
Nathaniel watched her. Her evasion was obvious, but he didn’t press further. “Agreed.”
After changing into the fresh clothes Dominic had delivered, Isabella was ready to leave. She opened the suite door and peeked into the hallway. Her eyes narrowed instantly. A hotel staff member was positioned discreetly at the far end. Without hesitation, she stepped back inside and closed the door firmly.
No.4
The corridor was far from empty. If she walked out with Nathaniel now, the entire world would know they had spent the night together in the same suite.
Isabella spun around too quickly.
She collided with something solid and unyielding.
Nathaniel stood directly behind her.
Her face pressed against the muscular plane of his forearm.
He glanced down at her. A frown creased his brow. “Problem? Something else you need from the hotel room?”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she shot back. “It’s a circus out there. We walk out like this, we’re instantly recognized. Do you have any hats?”
“No,” he stated flatly.
She grimaced. Damn it. She’d gotten in hidden in his embrace. How was she supposed to get out?
No.5
He considered for a moment. “The offer still stands. My arms are available.”
Again? He wanted to carry her again?
Her instinct was immediate refusal. “Not happening.”
There had to be another way.
Footsteps echoed down the corridor. Multiple pairs. A group of staff was approaching.
Isabella didn’t think. She launched herself into Nathaniel’s arms. Her arms looped around his neck. She buried her face against his chest.
His arms closed around her instinctively. A faint smirk touched his lips.
The staff reached them. A chorus of respectful greetings followed. “Mr. Blackwood.”
Nathaniel adjusted his hold on her. “Yes?”
No.6
The lead staff member kept his eyes lowered. “Sir, you haven’t reviewed the quarterly reports for some time. Since you are here, I took the liberty of bringing the latest.”
The Grand Monarch was merely a convenience for Nathaniel. His brother Sebastian often dragged him to clubs. The usual establishments were distasteful. Chaotic. Unregulated.
So, Nathaniel had his people create one. The Grand Monarch had strict rules. An exclusive atmosphere. Impeccable surroundings. Membership was limited to the top thirty entrepreneurs in Westchester and the nation’s elite three hundred families. A million-dollar minimum spend per visit was enforced. Anyone causing trouble was ejected. Violently, if necessary.
He’d expected modest returns. Instead, it became a grotesque symbol of status. The elite flocked to flaunt their wealth. Profits soared. It consistently outperformed every other bar by a factor of ten.
The report held no interest for him. But the woman in his arms changed his mind. “Proceed,” he commanded.
Isabella stiffened. Proceed? Now? Here? He was supposed to dismiss them. Get them moving.
This would take forever.
She was trapped. Surrounded. She couldn’t speak. She could only wait. Silently. Agonizingly.
The CEO began reading. “First quarter fiscal year 2020. Gross profit for The Grand Monarch reached fifty-three billion. Alcohol sales account for thirty percent. Service fees comprise five percent…”
No.7
A torrent of numbers. Data. Dry, corporate jargon.
Nathaniel listened. His arms remained around Isabella. The report droned on. First quarter. Then the second. Then the third. Expenses. Services. Facility upgrades. Five minutes felt like an hour.
Isabella was fighting sleep. The man continued, undeterred. “Our five-year expansion plan targets key cities domestically, with a long-term goal of global market penetration by…”
He was moving on to future plans now.
Isabella shifted in his hold. His scent filled her senses. Clean. Masculine. Potent. Her cheek rested against the hard contour of his chest. The defined muscle was unmistakable even through his shirt.
This position was dangerously intimate. She’d been in his arms for an eternity. Under the watchful eyes of his entire staff.
What if someone saw something? A stray strand of hair. A familiar curve of her body. What if they figured out it was her?
She couldn’t take it anymore. The waiting was torture.
She pressed a finger firmly into his back. A silent, urgent plea.