Chapter 25

Chapter25

Eleanor was struggling to break free from Nathaniel's grasp when he suddenly wrapped his other arm around her waist. With a firm pull, he yanked her closer, causing her to stumble into his chest. To anyone watching, it looked as though Eleanor had willingly thrown herself into his arms.

Her expression darkened instantly.

Before she could react, Nathaniel reached up and brushed his thumb lightly across her lips. Eleanor had just eaten a slice of cake, but she was certain there was nothing left on her lips. His gesture, however, made her feel uneasy.

Her frown deepened, and she opened her mouth to demand he release her, but Nathaniel spoke first. "Did you enjoy the cake?" he asked, his tone casual yet laced with something darker.

The question caught her off guard. Before she could respond, Nathaniel leaned down and captured her lips in a searing kiss.

The kiss was as commanding and possessive as the man himself. The faint sweetness of the cake lingered between them, but Nathaniel seemed to dislike it. His kiss grew more aggressive, his grip tightening around her waist until Eleanor was sure bruises were forming.

She pressed her palms against his chest, trying to push him away, but Nathaniel didn’t budge. To an outsider, it might have looked like a passionate embrace, but Eleanor knew better. Nathaniel wasn’t kissing her out of love or desire—he was using her to vent his frustration.

He was like a dog guarding its food. He could discard her, but no one else was allowed to take her away.

Eleanor remembered their last encounter vividly, the way they had fought, the way he had tried to control her. Realizing that struggling was futile, she stopped resisting and let her arms fall to her sides, her gaze cold and unwavering.

Just then, Nathaniel bit down hard on her lower lip.

Pain shot through her, and she felt the metallic tang of blood. A small gasp escaped her lips, and only then did Nathaniel release her.

Eleanor stepped back, one hand covering her mouth. She could feel the blood welling up from the wound. Her frown deepened, but before she could say anything, Nathaniel grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him.

His expression was as arrogant and disdainful as ever. "This is your final warning," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Stay away from Julian Whitaker. Do you understand?"

Eleanor didn’t respond.

Nathaniel didn’t wait for an answer. He released her and walked away, leaving her standing there, her lip still bleeding.

After a moment, Eleanor wiped the blood from her lips, reapplied her lipstick, and returned to the party. Nathaniel was already mingling with the crowd, the center of attention as always. It didn’t surprise her. She didn’t bother approaching him. Instead, she turned and headed toward the exit.

Just as she was about to leave, she heard laughter coming from the side of the room. She glanced over and saw Olivia and her friends huddled together, laughing at something they were holding.

Eleanor was about to ignore them when she realized what they were holding—it was her sketchbook.

Her heart sank. She had left it in the lounge earlier, and now it was in the hands of the last people she wanted to see it.

Olivia looked up and caught Eleanor’s eye, a smug smile spreading across her face. "Oh, Eleanor," she called out, holding up the sketchbook. "We were just admiring your... *artwork*. It’s quite... *interesting*."

Eleanor’s jaw tightened, but she said nothing. She turned and walked away, her mind racing. She needed to get that sketchbook back before they could do any more damage.

But as she left the hall, she couldn’t shake the feeling that things were about to get much worse.",