Chapter 137

The morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Evelyn's office, casting golden patterns across her drafting table. She leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples as she studied the blueprints for the new Martin Group project. The weight of the deadline pressed heavily on her shoulders, but she refused to let it show.

A soft knock interrupted her thoughts. "Come in," she called, straightening her posture.

Gabrielle, her assistant, stepped inside with a tablet in hand. "Evelyn, Mr. Wilson is here to see you. He says it's urgent."

Evelyn frowned. Gregory never dropped by unannounced unless something was wrong. "Send him in."

Gregory strode in moments later, his expression unreadable. He closed the door behind him before speaking. "We have a problem."

Evelyn's pulse quickened. "What kind of problem?"

"The zoning permits for the waterfront project just got rejected."

Her stomach dropped. "What? Why?"

"Some last-minute objections from the environmental committee. They claim our designs don’t meet their new sustainability standards."

Evelyn exhaled sharply, frustration bubbling beneath her calm exterior. "That’s ridiculous. We followed every guideline."

Gregory ran a hand through his hair. "I know. But unless we get this sorted, the entire project is stalled."

She stood abruptly, determination hardening her gaze. "Then we’ll fix it. Call a meeting with the committee. I’ll handle Nathaniel—he needs to know before this blows up."

Gregory hesitated. "Are you sure? He’s already under a lot of pressure with the board."

Evelyn’s jaw tightened. "He’d want to know. We don’t keep secrets, especially not about something this big."

As Gregory left to arrange the meeting, Evelyn grabbed her phone, her fingers hovering over Nathaniel’s contact. She knew he was in back-to-back meetings today, but this couldn’t wait.

Before she could dial, her phone buzzed with an incoming call—Isabella’s name flashing on the screen.

Evelyn’s breath hitched. Why was she calling?

Swallowing her unease, she answered. "Isabella?"

"Evelyn," Isabella’s voice was smooth, almost too sweet. "I thought you should know—Nathaniel and I are meeting for lunch today. Just catching up, of course."

The words slithered down Evelyn’s spine like ice. She forced a light tone. "That’s nice. I’m sure he’ll enjoy it."

Isabella chuckled softly. "Oh, I’m sure he will. After all, we have so much… history."

The line went dead before Evelyn could respond.

She stared at her phone, her earlier resolve crumbling under the weight of doubt.

Nathaniel hadn’t mentioned anything about lunch with Isabella.

Why?

And more importantly—what else wasn’t he telling her?

"It's not like I'm out every night. This is only my second time, and never this late," Evelyn defended herself, avoiding Nathaniel's piercing gaze.

"Do you have any idea how reckless it is for you to wander alone after dark? Never again," Nathaniel commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Evelyn stayed quiet, methodically unpacking the grocery bag and arranging items in the fridge.

Nathaniel, irritation simmering, stalked toward her and slammed the refrigerator door shut, caging her between his arms. "Evelyn, I’m speaking to you. Did you hear what I said?"

Their proximity was suffocating.

Evelyn startled, tilting her head up. His dark eyes bore into hers, sharp and unyielding.

"Evelyn, answer me," he repeated, his tone brooding.

"Understood," she murmured, then tried to push him away.

Does he not realize how stifling this is? she thought, her skin prickling with heat. Their breaths mingled, too close, too intimate.

But Nathaniel didn’t budge. His body was an immovable force, trapping her effortlessly.

Annoyed, Evelyn huffed, "Move."

"You don’t want me near you?" His gaze dropped to her lips, lingering, his voice roughening with something dangerous.

Evelyn recognized that shift—the quiet storm before his temper flared. Opposing him now would only make things worse.

She bit her lip, exhaling softly. "That’s not it."

"Prove it," he challenged.

Her pulse jumped. "I just did."

"Then look at me when you say it."

Reluctantly, she met his eyes. "It’s really not that."

His thumb brushed her chin, tilting her face up. "Then kiss me."

She stiffened. "Why?"

"Since when do we need reasons?"

"Is this an order?" she countered, pressing her lips together.

Nathaniel paused, then smirked. "Would you only do it if it were?"

"If it’s not, then can I refuse?"

His expression darkened. "So you only respond to commands?"

Evelyn held her ground, silent.

He tightened his grip, displeasure flashing in his eyes. "Give me one good reason."

She nearly scoffed. I don’t need a reason not to want to.

Instead, she said flatly, "There isn’t one. I just don’t feel like it."

Nathaniel’s jaw ticked. "Is that ‘not now’ or ‘not ever’?"

"What difference does it make?"

"Fine. If you won’t kiss me, then don’t. Clearly, you don’t listen to my grandfather—why would you listen to me?"

The guilt trip was obvious.

Evelyn frowned but refused to rise to it. "Can you let go so I can finish putting these away?"

"I’m not stopping you."

"Then step back."

He didn’t move. Not an inch.

After a tense silence, Evelyn sighed. "Why are you still here?"

"Evelyn, you can’t have it both ways. I didn’t force you to kiss me, and you can’t force me to leave when I don’t want to. Did you think I’d just let you push me around?"

"Nathaniel Martin!" she snapped, frustration boiling over.

His name on her lips—sharp, irritated—sent a thrill through him. His gaze darkened, a storm brewing beneath his composed exterior.

"I’m right here," he murmured, voice thick.

"Say my name again."

"Nathaniel, you’re insufferable."

Evelyn wanted to strangle him.