Chapter 172

The moment Nathaniel stepped into the room, the air shifted. His presence was magnetic, commanding attention without a single word. Evelyn felt her breath catch as his piercing gaze locked onto hers, the intensity sending a shiver down her spine.

"You're late," she murmured, crossing her arms.

A slow, knowing smirk curved his lips. "Missed me already?"

She rolled her eyes, but the warmth creeping up her neck betrayed her. "Hardly. We have a meeting to get through."

Nathaniel closed the distance between them in three long strides, his fingers brushing against hers before she could pull away. "Then let's not waste time."

The conference room was already filled when they entered—Gregory Wilson, her business partner, sat at the head of the table, flipping through documents. Beside him, Samuel Yates, Nathaniel’s ever-efficient secretary, adjusted his glasses as he reviewed the final proposal.

Evelyn took her seat, acutely aware of Nathaniel’s lingering touch on the small of her back before he settled beside her.

Gregory cleared his throat. "Now that we're all here, let's begin."

The meeting proceeded smoothly, though Evelyn found it hard to focus. Every time Nathaniel leaned forward to speak, his deep voice sent an unwelcome thrill through her. She clenched her fists under the table, willing herself to concentrate.

Then came the bombshell.

Gregory slid a document toward her. "We’ve been approached by Summit Realty. They want us to collaborate on their new luxury development."

Evelyn stiffened. "Sebastian Wilson’s company?"

Nathaniel’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "You know him?"

She forced a neutral expression. "Only by reputation."

A reputation that included ruthless business tactics and a history of undercutting competitors.

Gregory nodded. "They’re offering a substantial budget. It could be a game-changer for us."

Evelyn hesitated. Something about this didn’t sit right.

Before she could voice her concerns, Nathaniel spoke. "We’ll review the terms first." His tone left no room for argument.

The meeting adjourned shortly after, but as Evelyn gathered her things, Nathaniel caught her wrist.

"Talk to me," he demanded softly.

She met his gaze, the storm in his eyes mirroring her own unease. "I don’t trust Sebastian."

Nathaniel’s grip tightened slightly. "Neither do I."

A beat of silence passed between them, heavy with unspoken understanding.

Then, just as quickly, he released her, stepping back with that infuriatingly composed mask back in place. "We’ll handle it."

Evelyn exhaled sharply. If only she shared his confidence.

Because something told her this deal was more than it seemed—and the fallout could destroy everything they’d built.

Nathaniel's piercing gaze locked onto Thomas. "Are you certain justice is all you seek?"

"What else would there be?"

Thomas swirled his wine glass thoughtfully before countering, "Aren't you afraid you're falling for her?"

"You may doubt my methods, but never my intentions."

"And after justice is served?" Thomas pressed. "Will you discard her like the others? Or keep her close? Do you honestly believe the Fairchilds would allow it?"

Nathaniel's voice remained icy. "I don't need your concern. I have my plans."

Thomas scoffed but didn't push further.

The tense silence stretched until Nathaniel abruptly changed the subject. "Your birthday's approaching. Any grand celebrations planned?"

Evelyn would've remembered. She always did.

Last year, she had organized an intimate gathering at Pineview—just his closest friends, family, and Edward. Dinner had been elegant, the conversation effortless. No flashy parties, no corporate obligations. Just warmth.

Now?

The mere thought of Evelyn—of her determination to leave him—twisted something dark in his chest.

"Do I look like I'm in the mood for festivities?" Nathaniel snapped.

Thomas smirked. "Birthdays come but once a year. Leave it to me. I'll make it... memorable."

Nathaniel dismissed the offer with a wave. His mind was already elsewhere—plotting how to reclaim control over Evelyn.

He snatched his phone and dialed Samuel. "Dig up everything on that woman shadowing Evelyn. I want her gone."

The nuisance named Charlotte Bennett had overstayed her welcome.

Meanwhile, Charlotte sat curled on the sofa, Harper's phone buzzing incessantly in her grip. She ignored it until the ringing ceased—only for it to start again.

She answered on instinct.

"Mayby?" The voice on the line was razor-sharp. "Have you lost your mind? He's there. Do you have a death wish?"

Charlotte's fingers tightened around the device. "I'm visiting Evelyn. That's all."

"One week," the man hissed. "Return, or I'll drag you back myself."

The line went dead.

Charlotte exhaled slowly, her thoughts churning.

That night, while some slept soundly, others wrestled with storms of their own making.

The Marriage Game (Evelyn & Nathaniel)