Chapter 217
No.1
She blinked away the sleep, realizing she was in Nathaniel's arms.
They lay facing each other, bodies intertwined beneath the sheets.
Nathaniel slept soundly beside her.
His white shirt was wrinkled and torn, stained with her lipstick.
What happened?
She rubbed her temples, the hangover pounding in her head.
Had she done this to his shirt while drunk?
Guilt washed over her as she tried to slip away.
A strong arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her back.
She met Nathaniel's darkened gaze.
Their faces were inches apart.
Her lips nearly brushed against his chin.
"Let me go," she whispered, not moving.
No.2
"You held me all night, Ms. Montgomery. Don't I deserve compensation?" His voice was deep and rough.
Isabella flushed. Held him? Touched him?
Impossible.
"I sleep like the dead when drunk. I wouldn't do that—stop making things up!"
"Seems I need to refresh your memory. How you used my arm as your pillow..." Each word made her feel guiltier.
Despite her protests, the evidence was on his clothes.
"Enough! Just tell me what you want!"
Nathaniel's lips curved. "Kiss me."
Kiss him?
Her eyelids twitched. "Nathaniel, that's too much!"
I owe him for touching him, but...a kiss?
"Do you know how much trouble you caused today? Or should I show you?" His voice dropped lower.
She understood his meaning.
No.3
"Fine. But you forget this ever happened. Tell no one."
"Agreed." He smirked, waiting patiently.
She panicked under his intense gaze. "Close your eyes."
He smiled and complied.
She studied his perfect features up close.
His presence always felt so restrained.
Kissing him wouldn't be terrible.
She closed her eyes and leaned in.
Their lips met in an electric jolt.
Her heart raced wildly.
She tried to pull back, but Nathaniel cupped her head, deepening the kiss.
Her mind went blank, overwhelmed by his intensity.
She gasped for air, drowning in him.
No.4
"Isabella..." His voice was husky with emotion.
Isabella’s pulse raced as Nathaniel’s kiss left her breathless.
His voice alone was enough to unravel her defenses.
So hypnotic, so commanding.
She felt herself melting under his touch.
“Fine,” she whispered, her voice unsteady. “It’s not like it’s my first time. I’m not losing anything.”
She wanted this—needed to feel alive.
To reclaim a part of herself she thought she’d lost.
But Nathaniel’s expression shifted instantly.
His eyes cleared, intense and serious.
He pulled back, putting space between them.
“Don’t ever say that again, Isabella.”
She blinked, confused.
No.5
What had she said wrong?
He cupped her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.
His voice was low, firm. “Listen to me. What happened five years ago wasn’t your fault. Your body, your soul—they’re still pure. You’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever known. Never belittle yourself because of something that wasn’t in your control.”
He stood up, adjusting his shirt with practiced elegance.
“I crossed a line today. I shouldn’t have let it go that far. I respect you too much for that. And I need you to respect yourself, too.”
Warmth flooded Isabella’s chest.
They were so close… yet he stopped.
For her.
Most men would’ve taken what they wanted without a second thought.
They would’ve called her easy.
Used.
But not Nathaniel.
She rose from the bed and wrapped her arms around him from behind.
No.6
Her cheek pressed against his back.
“Nathaniel,” she murmured. “Giving myself to you isn’t disrespect. It’s what I want. Are you really turning me down?”
His body went rigid at her touch.
She could feel the tension in his muscles.
The struggle.
But his voice was steady. “I want you, Isabella. More than you know. But not like this. Not when you’re drunk. Not when you’re confused. I want it to be on our wedding night.”
Her heart fluttered wildly.
He was serious.
He really meant to marry her.
This wasn’t a game to him.
She pushed him playfully, putting on a teasing tone. “So eager to make me a Blackwood, are you? Not a chance. I won’t marry a man who can’t even slice ginger properly.”
She was sure he’d failed at that task earlier.
Probably ordered takeout instead.
No.7
Nathaniel’s eyes darkened. “Are you saying you won’t make it up to me?”
Isabella coughed, caught off guard.
Why did he have to be so direct?
“I need some air,” she deflected, moving toward the door. “It’s getting stuffy in here.”
But when she turned the knob, it didn’t budge.
She pulled harder.
Nothing.
Frowning, she glanced back at Nathaniel.
“What’s wrong with the door?”
“Your son’s doing,” he replied simply.
Oliver.
Of course.
“What do we do now?” she asked, a hint of panic in her voice. “How do we get out?”