Chapter 175

The morning sun cast golden rays through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Evelyn’s office, illuminating the blueprints spread across her desk. Her fingers traced the intricate lines of the latest project—a luxury resort in the Maldives. The design was ambitious, but she thrived on challenges.

A soft knock interrupted her thoughts.

"Come in," she called, not looking up.

Gabrielle, her assistant, stepped inside, holding a steaming cup of coffee. "Thought you might need this. You’ve been at it since dawn."

Evelyn smiled gratefully, accepting the cup. "Thanks. I just want to finalize these details before the meeting with Summit Realty."

Gabrielle hesitated. "Speaking of which… Jonathan Blake called. He wants to move the meeting up to this afternoon."

Evelyn’s grip tightened around the mug. "Why?"

"He didn’t say, but he sounded… urgent."

Evelyn exhaled sharply. Sebastian Wilson, Summit Realty’s CEO, had been nothing but difficult since the project began. Every meeting felt like a battle.

"Fine. Reschedule my afternoon."

As Gabrielle left, Evelyn’s phone buzzed. A text from Nathaniel:

Dinner tonight? I have something to tell you.

Her heart skipped. Lately, Nathaniel had been distant, lost in his own world of corporate takeovers and boardroom politics. She typed a quick reply:

Of course. 7 PM at La Perle?

His response was immediate: Perfect.

She set the phone down, a knot forming in her stomach. What could he possibly want to discuss?

The Summit Realty office was sleek and impersonal, all glass and steel. Jonathan Blake greeted her with a tight smile.

"Evelyn. Thanks for coming on such short notice."

She forced a polite nod. "What’s this about, Jonathan?"

Before he could answer, the door opened, and Sebastian Wilson strode in, his tailored suit immaculate, his expression unreadable.

"Evelyn," he said smoothly. "We have a problem."

She arched a brow. "What kind of problem?"

Sebastian slid a folder across the table. "Our investors are concerned about the timeline. They want the resort completed by December."

Evelyn’s pulse spiked. "That’s impossible. We agreed on next spring."

"Circumstances have changed." His tone left no room for argument.

She flipped through the documents, her mind racing. Rushing the project would mean cutting corners—something she refused to do.

"I’ll need to discuss this with my team," she said carefully.

Sebastian’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. "Of course. But time is of the essence."

As she left the office, Evelyn’s phone buzzed again. This time, it was Charlotte.

You need to see this.

Attached was a tabloid photo of Nathaniel leaving a high-end hotel with Isabella Davis—his ex—late last night.

Evelyn’s breath caught.

Suddenly, Nathaniel’s mysterious dinner plans made sense.

And she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear what he had to say.

Nathaniel's voice was frigid, laced with simmering fury. "Get in the car, Evelyn."

Without another word, Evelyn yanked open the door and slid into the passenger seat. The interior was suffocatingly silent, filled only with Nathaniel's distinctive scent—a subtle blend of expensive cologne and faint tobacco, uniquely his.

After a tense pause, Nathaniel spoke, his voice softer but no less intense. "Tell me, Evelyn. If I hadn’t brought this up, were you planning to avoid me indefinitely?"

She exhaled sharply. "Don’t be ridiculous. The divorce requires both of us. I can’t exactly disappear."

His jaw tightened. "So eager to end things?"

"That’s not what I said. You asked, and I answered."

Nathaniel’s eyes darkened. "Is this how you want to speak to me?"

Evelyn met his gaze evenly. "Then tell me, Nathaniel. What tone should I use?"

For a long moment, he simply stared at her, his emotions barely restrained. When he finally spoke again, his voice was eerily calm. "What you saw last night at the restaurant wasn’t what you think."

She arched a brow but said nothing.

"Isabella’s parents came to Mayby for medical tests. The situation was complicated, and they asked for my help. As a courtesy, I took them to dinner. Afterward, I dropped them at their hotel. Then I went straight to your place—but you refused to hear me out."

A flicker of irritation colored his words.

Evelyn’s fingers twitched in her lap. "I see. But you didn’t owe me an explanation. Whatever’s between you and Isabella is none of my concern."

His expression hardened. "That’s all you have to say?"

She held his gaze, silent.

Nathaniel scoffed. "No reaction at all?"

Reaction?

Oh, she had plenty. But she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Once, his explanations would have thrilled her. Now, they only fueled her suspicions.

So she steeled herself. She had to stop loving him.

Evelyn forced a shrug. "You said it yourself—this is between you and Isabella. My answer stands."

Nathaniel’s laugh was cold. Before she could react, his arm shot out, locking around her waist. In one swift motion, he hauled her against him, his lips crashing onto hers.

The kiss was relentless, possessive. She gasped, her hands fisting in his shirt as he deepened it, leaving her no room to breathe, no chance to resist.

Panic flared—they were parked on a busy street, in broad daylight. Anyone could see.

Desperate, she bit down.

Nathaniel barely flinched. He paused, just for a heartbeat, before claiming her mouth again.