Chapter 122

The morning sun cast golden streaks across the bedroom as Evelyn stirred awake. Beside her, Nathaniel slept soundly, his breathing steady and deep. She traced the curve of his jaw with her fingertips, marveling at how peaceful he looked.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. A message from Gregory Wilson, her business partner, flashed on the screen: "Emergency meeting at the office. Summit Realty is making moves."

Evelyn frowned. Summit Realty had been a thorn in their side for months, and Sebastian Wilson, its ruthless CEO, was relentless. She slipped out of bed quietly, careful not to disturb Nathaniel.

Downstairs, Alfred, their butler, had already prepared her coffee. "Good morning, Mrs. Martin. Will you be having breakfast before you leave?"

"No time, Alfred," she said, grabbing her briefcase. "Tell Nathaniel I’ll call him later."

The drive to the office was tense. Her mind raced with possibilities—what could Summit Realty be planning now?

When she arrived, Gregory was pacing in the conference room, his expression grim. "They’ve undercut our bid for the waterfront project," he said without preamble. "Jonathan Blake just sent over the revised proposal. It’s a direct challenge."

Evelyn clenched her fists. "They can’t just steal our clients."

Gabrielle, her assistant, hurried in with a tablet. "I pulled their financials. They’ve got backing from an unknown investor—someone with deep pockets."

Evelyn’s phone buzzed again. A message from Charlotte Bennett, her best friend: "You need to see this." Attached was a grainy photo of Sebastian Wilson meeting with Donovan Sinclair in a dimly lit bar.

Her blood ran cold. Donovan was trouble—a man with connections to the underworld. If Summit Realty was working with him, this was more than just business rivalry.

Just then, Nathaniel called. His voice was sharp with concern. "Evelyn, where are you? We need to talk."

She hesitated. "I’m at the office. What’s wrong?"

"Edward just called an emergency board meeting. He’s pushing for immediate action against Summit Realty."

Evelyn’s pulse quickened. The stakes were rising. "I’ll be there soon."

As she hung up, Gregory met her gaze. "This is getting dangerous."

She nodded. "Then we fight back harder."

The game had just changed. And Evelyn wasn’t about to lose.

"Nathaniel, stop this nonsense right now."

Evelyn crossed her arms, her irritation evident in the tight line of her lips. The man before her hesitated, his chiseled features twisting with visible frustration. He tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that sent an unexpected shiver down her spine.

"Help me," he murmured, his voice a velvet whisper that curled around her like smoke.

The request caught her off guard. Evelyn had already been in bed when Nathaniel arrived, dressed in nothing but soft cotton pajamas. Yet even in such simple attire, she glowed—her skin luminous under the dim bathroom light, her tousled hair framing her face in loose waves.

She exhaled sharply, squeezing her eyes shut as a familiar warmth pooled in her chest.

Before she could respond, Nathaniel’s hands shot out, gripping her waist and yanking her straight into the bathtub with him. Water sloshed over the edges as she gasped, her clothes instantly drenched.

"Since you won’t help," he murmured, his lips brushing her ear, "we’ll just bathe together."

Evelyn sputtered, shoving against his chest. "Have you lost your mind?"

Nathaniel merely smirked, lounging back as if this were perfectly normal. Seething, she scrambled out of the tub, water dripping from her clothes as she stormed out of the bathroom.

She was furious. His audacity had shattered her resolve, yet he remained utterly oblivious, wrapped up in his own whims.

Regret burned through her. She never should have let him in. She should have slammed the door in his face the moment he showed up.

Cheeks flaming, she retreated to her room, stripping off her soaked pajamas and tugging on dry ones. Enough was enough. She wasn’t indulging him any further.

With a sharp click, she locked her bedroom door and threw herself onto the bed.

But sleep refused to come. No matter how many deep breaths she took, Nathaniel’s face kept flashing behind her eyelids—his smirk, his damp hair clinging to his forehead, the way his voice had dropped to that sinful whisper.

It was infuriating.

Eventually, exhaustion pulled her under, but her rest was short-lived. She jolted awake hours later, disoriented. Fumbling for her phone, she squinted at the screen—5:30 AM.

A sudden thought struck her.

She bolted upright, hurrying out of her room. The living room was empty. Her stomach twisted.

Then she turned toward the bathroom.

Her breath caught.

Nathaniel was still there, slumped against the edge of the tub, half-submerged in water that had long gone cold. His eyes were closed, his breathing slow.

Panic flared. She rushed forward, pressing her fingers to the water. Ice-cold.

"Nathaniel!" She shook his shoulder. "Wake up!"

No response.

He couldn’t stay like this. He’d freeze. Desperate, she pinched his nose. "Nathaniel, I swear—"

He swatted her hand away, groggy and disoriented.

"Let me help you up," she insisted. "You can’t sleep here."

Still nothing.

Gritting her teeth, she pinched his nose again, harder this time. After several attempts, he finally grunted in protest, blinking up at her with bleary eyes.

She guided him to the bedroom, steering him toward a chair. "Take off your clothes," she ordered. "You’ll soak the sheets."

"No."

He made a move toward the bed, but Evelyn blocked him. "You’ll get sick. If you don’t listen, I’m calling Samuel to come get you."

Nathaniel stilled. Then, with a heavy sigh, he met her gaze.

"Fine," he muttered. "Help me."