Chapter 115

Nathaniel's luck had abandoned him tonight. Loss after loss darkened his handsome features with icy detachment.

Isabella remained focused on her cards, a bowl of ripe seasonal fruits at her elbow. She selected a plump grape, peeled it with care, and pressed it to Nathaniel's lips.

Distracted by the game, he accepted the offering without thought. His attention divided between the cards and Isabella's affectionate ministrations. She leaned closer, the picture of devoted companionship, even extending her palm to catch the discarded pit.

She played the role of doting wife to perfection.

The young men at the table exchanged knowing glances. "Only Mr. Falcon could command such devotion from Willowbrook's reigning beauty," one remarked.

"Seems you can't have both luck and love," another teased. "No wonder you're losing tonight."

Isabella pouted playfully. "Enough teasing, gentlemen."

Outside the door, Harrison watched the scene unfold. This marked her first glimpse of Nathaniel socializing with Isabella among friends.

A sharp pang pierced her chest.

Another loss. Nathaniel tossed his cards down, pushing chips forward. "Split it."

Sebastian and the others laughed, clapping. "Always generous, Nathaniel!"

"Mr. Falcon's burning through cash tonight," someone observed.

Nathaniel remained impassive, lounging against his chair with bored indifference.

Isabella gazed at him adoringly. "Tired of playing, darling?"

"Seems Nathaniel's lost his edge," one man joked.

Another grinned. "Perhaps Ms. Isabella could...reinvigorate him?"

The group erupted in suggestive laughter.

Isabella poured wine with a smile. "Care for a drink, Nathaniel?"

He watched her silently.

Before the assembled company, Isabella climbed onto Nathaniel's lap. Elevated slightly, she leaned forward, hand braced against his chair back, effectively pinning him in place.

Nathaniel's bored expression finally flickered with interest. One eyebrow arched as amusement lit his features.

Isabella caught the wineglass rim between her teeth, tilting it to let crimson liquid spill forth. Nathaniel chuckled, allowing the wine to trickle into his mouth.

"Bravo!"

Sebastian's laughter led the chorus of approval. "Ms. Isabella, what a performance!"

"Now we see why you're his favorite," another heir remarked.

The luxurious room's atmosphere grew charged. Harrison watched as a flushed Isabella returned to her seat beside Nathaniel.

Though silent, Nathaniel's left arm draped possessively over her chair back, drawing her into his orbit.

The teasing continued, met with Isabella's playful scolding. Nathaniel simply watched her with indulgent tenderness.

Harrison couldn't deny Isabella's cleverness. She understood men like Nathaniel - accustomed to being the center of attention, to being served. Isabella crafted the perfect atmosphere of devotion.

Harrison could bear no more. This was self-flagellation.

This was Nathaniel and Isabella's world - a world where she didn't belong.

"Rosalind, let's go."

Rosalind turned. "Wait, Harrison. Look - Arabella's arrived."