Chapter 62

The business discussion had dragged on for hours, yet Nathaniel Graves hadn't secured a single concrete deal.

Alexander Whitmore casually picked up a linen napkin.

He dabbed his lips.

Then he turned to Nathaniel with an amused smile. "It's true. I've been considering it. What's your take?"

Nathaniel never missed a business opportunity.

"Having Mr. Whitmore's interest is an honor for our company."

If Alexander and Nathaniel collaborated, Victoria Kensington would benefit greatly. Closer ties meant more chances to interact with Nathaniel. And that would make it easier to sway him to her side.

With this thought, she shot a venomous glare at Isabella Sinclair.

Isabella, however, remained engrossed in conversation with Dr. Theodore Sinclair. Though she kept half an ear on the table dynamics, she wasn't particularly concerned.

If Nathaniel genuinely wanted to work with Alexander, she had no objections. Money was money, after all.

As dinner concluded, the group migrated to the lounge area for further discussions.

Alexander's earlier mention of collaboration had been casual. Whether it would materialize remained uncertain.

Yet Gregory Thornton, another guest, seemed genuinely eager to partner with them. He'd already gathered his team to speak with Nathaniel before dessert was cleared.

Isabella joined them.

While technically proficient, negotiations were Nathaniel's forte.

She sat quietly, interjecting only occasionally. Noticing Nathaniel's empty glass, she picked it up. "I'll get you a refill."

Nathaniel smiled. "Thanks."

Seeing Isabella play the assistant role reinforced Victoria and Beatrice Kensington's belief that her position was merely menial.

Glass in hand, Isabella turned away. As she passed Alexander, someone abruptly bumped into her.

Caught off balance, she stumbled forward—straight into Alexander's arms. The room froze.

To observers, it appeared accidental. But was it truly coincidence that she fell precisely into Alexander's embrace?

Isabella was undeniably striking—her figure graceful, her porcelain skin flawless.

While Victoria was equally beautiful, many present privately conceded Isabella had the edge.

For most men, such an encounter would stir something.

But Alexander remained impassive.

He steadied her shoulders briefly before pushing her away, his expression unreadable.

Isabella only recognized his distinctive cologne when she was already against his chest.

Regaining composure, she calmly straightened. "My apologies," she murmured before walking away.

To Victoria and Beatrice, the message was clear—this had been deliberate.

Beatrice scoffed. "I told you she'd try something."

"Pathetic," Victoria smirked. "His reaction says everything."

"Indeed," Beatrice chuckled. "His indifference is rather reassuring, isn't it?"

Victoria lowered her head, smiling smugly.

Meanwhile, Reginald Kensington frowned.

He'd thought Isabella unassuming. Now he realized she was full of tricks. Who would've guessed?