Chapter 246

The cream puff slipped from Vivian's fingers as her cheeks burned crimson. Is this man insane? What kind of ridiculous thing is he saying?!

Nathaniel remained composed, his gaze steady on her. "You said the exact same thing last night while biting my lip, remember?"

Nathan Prescott cleared his throat loudly. "Damn, Nate! In broad daylight? Control yourself!"

Dominic Harrington chuckled softly. "Sounds like things got pretty... intense between you two last night."

Nathaniel shrugged. "She was the wild one. I was just the victim."

"Nathaniel Blackwood!" Vivian shrieked, mortification flooding her. She wanted to vanish into thin air.

Denying it was pointless—not when he had concrete evidence. If this bastard releases that dashcam footage out of spite, I'm finished!

Ugh, whatever! I'm not wasting energy arguing with this infuriating man!

Closing her eyes, Vivian turned toward the window, feigning sleep. Exhaustion from last night must have caught up with her because, against her will, she drifted off.

As drowsiness claimed her, she felt strong arms adjusting her position. Her head landed on a firm shoulder—warm, solid, safe.

Nathaniel glanced down at the woman curled against him, an unfamiliar tenderness flickering in his eyes. He hadn’t even realized how much she’d come to mean to him.

A smudge of cream lingered at the corner of Vivian’s lips. Without her usual sharpness, she looked softer, almost delicate. His chest tightened inexplicably.

Pulling a handkerchief from his suit, he gently wiped the cream away, handling her like a priceless treasure.

Nathan whistled from the driver’s seat, catching the moment in the rearview mirror. "Damn, Nate. Last time, I had doubts. But now? You’re gone for her."

Nathaniel stiffened, abruptly withdrawing the handkerchief. "Don’t be absurd. I just hate mess."

"Mess?" Nathan grinned. "I’ve got cream on my face too. Wanna clean me up?"

Nathaniel shoved another cream puff at Dominic. "Shut him up."

Dominic chuckled but then sighed, his gaze lingering on the couple in the backseat. A shadow of longing crossed his face.

"Nate, it’s obvious Vivian means something to you. There’s no shame in admitting it."

"In fact... I envy you. Do you know how rare it is to find someone who truly matters to you—and have them feel the same?"

The words, coming from the groom himself, felt oddly heavy.

Nathaniel frowned. "What’s wrong?"

Dominic shook his head. "Nothing. Just thinking aloud. Love’s a privilege. When you find it, you should hold on tight."

Nathan smirked. "Why the hell are you jealous? You and Olivia are the definition of a love match."

Dominic only offered a bittersweet smile in return.

Soon, they arrived at the bride’s hotel.

Despite the Harringtons’ influence, the wedding was deliberately understated—no extravagant displays, just intimate traditions.

A series of challenges awaited the groom and his party, each designed to test devotion and intellect. Eighteen obstacles stood between Dominic and his bride.