Chapter 132

The morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, casting golden streaks across the marble floors. Evelyn stretched lazily, her fingers brushing against the empty space beside her. Nathaniel had already left for work—again.

She sighed, rolling onto her back. The bed still smelled like him, that intoxicating mix of sandalwood and something uniquely Nathaniel. It had been weeks since they’d had a proper conversation, let alone a morning together. The Martin Group was consuming him whole.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. A message from Gregory:

"Meeting at 10. Client wants revisions on the waterfront project. Bring your A-game."

Evelyn groaned. The waterfront project was supposed to be her breakthrough, but the client—Summit Realty—was proving impossible to please. Every design she submitted was met with nitpicking from Jonathan Blake, their project manager.

She dragged herself out of bed, padding barefoot to the ensuite. The reflection in the mirror stared back at her—tired eyes, messy hair. When had she last slept properly?

The shower did little to wake her up. As she toweled off, her phone buzzed again. This time, it was Gabrielle.

"Emergency. Isabella Davis just walked into the office. She’s asking for you."

Evelyn’s stomach dropped. Isabella. Nathaniel’s ex. The woman who had haunted their relationship from the start.

She dressed in record time, throwing on a sleek black pantsuit and twisting her damp hair into a hasty bun. The elevator ride down to the lobby felt endless, her mind racing with possibilities. What could Isabella possibly want?

The moment she stepped into the office, all eyes turned to her. Gabrielle rushed over, whispering, "She’s in Conference Room B. Looks like she means business."

Evelyn squared her shoulders and pushed the door open.

Isabella sat at the head of the table, legs crossed, sipping a latte as if she owned the place. She looked flawless, as always—blonde hair cascading over one shoulder, lips painted a dangerous shade of red.

"Evelyn," she purred. "So nice of you to finally join me."

Evelyn forced a smile. "Isabella. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Isabella set down her cup, her gaze sharpening. "I hear you’re working with Summit Realty. Funny, I just signed on as their new brand ambassador."

The air left Evelyn’s lungs.

Isabella smirked. "Oh, didn’t Nathaniel tell you? We’ll be seeing a lot more of each other."

The door creaked open behind them.

"Actually," came Nathaniel’s voice, deep and unreadable, "that’s what I came to discuss."

Evelyn turned. He stood there, his expression unreadable, his presence filling the room.

Isabella’s smile widened. "Perfect timing, darling."

Evelyn’s fingers curled into fists.

This was far from over.

Evelyn's sharp gaze briefly locked with Nathaniel's before she deliberately looked away. Her voice was cool, almost detached. "And you think you're not?"

"So, who isn't childish then? Gregory?"

"Why do you keep bringing him into this? Weren’t you the one who insisted this was just between us?"

"He inserted himself into our business. I didn’t invite him."

"But you can’t seem to have a conversation without his name slipping out, can you?" Her tone remained icy.

Nathaniel’s obsession with keeping Isabella out of their arguments made his fixation on Gregory all the more baffling.

His fingers brushed lightly under her chin, tilting her face toward his. His voice was low, devoid of emotion. "So, are you going to stay away from him? I don’t like seeing you two close, and I won’t tolerate him sniffing around with ulterior motives. He’s not sincere. People like that should be avoided."

Evelyn frowned, ready to argue his absurd logic—but before she could speak, Nathaniel closed the distance between them, his lips capturing hers in a searing kiss.

A soft gasp escaped her, muffled against his mouth.

His kiss burned with possessive intensity, as if he wanted to claim every inch of her. She stiffened, fingers curling into his shirt, torn between pushing him away and surrendering.

But resistance only seemed to stoke his hunger.

Slowly, her strength waned, and she melted into the heat of his embrace.

They were still locked together when the doorbell shattered the moment.

Nathaniel didn’t pull away immediately. Instead, he lingered, his forehead pressed to hers, his voice rough with desire. "I want to see you break."

Evelyn’s breath hitched, her pulse erratic. "Let me go. Someone’s at the door."

"They can wait." His voice dropped to a dark whisper, heavy with unspoken promises.

Heat flooded her cheeks as understanding dawned. The air between them crackled with tension.

The doorbell chimed again, insistent.

This time, Evelyn pushed against his chest, and Nathaniel reluctantly loosened his grip. She slipped from his arms, smoothing her clothes as she moved toward the door.

When she opened it, Samuel stood on the threshold, holding an elegant thermal carrier.

"Mrs. Martin," he greeted politely. "I’ve brought dinner."

"Dinner?" She blinked, suddenly remembering the untouched meal still on the table. A flush crept up her neck at the realization of how much time had passed since they’d last eaten.

Samuel, oblivious to her thoughts, continued smoothly. "Mr. Martin ordered from The Scarlet. May I come in?"

Though his tone was professional, the slight hesitation in his voice suggested he’d been waiting longer than expected.

Evelyn stepped aside just as Nathaniel’s voice cut through the room. "Let him in."

Samuel entered, approaching Nathaniel with quiet efficiency. "Shall I set everything up now, sir?"

A faint nod was his only reply.

As Samuel began arranging the new dishes, his gaze flickered to the untouched food still on the table. "What should I do with these, Mr. Martin?"

"Dispose of them. Do whatever you want with them." Nathaniel’s tone was indifferent.

Samuel nodded and reached to clear the plates—but Evelyn stopped him. "Wait."

He paused, glancing at Nathaniel for direction.

Evelyn kept her eyes locked on Nathaniel, her voice firm. "What are you doing?"