Chapter 139

Nathaniel yanked the wardrobe open.

There.

Curled in the corner, Harrison hugged her knees. Sleep-tousled dark hair framed her face. As light flooded in, her wide eyes met his - a startled doe caught in headlights.

The image struck him: a secret lover hiding from discovery.

His brow furrowed. "What are you doing?"

Harrison had woken to Isabella's voice. Last she remembered, she'd fallen asleep at the desk. Finding herself in Nathaniel's bed had been shock enough - then the approaching confrontation sent her scrambling for cover.

"Is she gone?" Harrison whispered.

Nathaniel said nothing.

Harrison tilted her head, lips quirking. "I hid when I saw her coming. Aren't I being good, Mr. Falcon?"

Good? Hardly.

She tried standing, but cramped legs betrayed her. She pitched forward - only to be caught by Nathaniel's strong grip.

Rubbing feeling back into her limbs, she murmured thanks.

His gaze lingered as she tucked a stray lock behind her ear. "Next time," his voice dropped, "don't hide unless told to. Understood?"

A shiver ran through her. As if she wanted to hide?

She was his wife. Isabella was the interloper here.

The absurdity stung.

"I feared she might hit me."

Nathaniel scoffed. "You? Afraid of her?"

This was the woman who'd bested Julian Ashford.

Harrison met his gaze squarely. "I could win. But I feared you'd help her."

The words hung between them.

"Tell me," she pressed, "if we fought, who would you choose?"

His silence spoke volumes.

Isabella. Always Isabella.

Harrison withdrew her arm from his grasp.

Nathaniel let his hand fall.

"How did I get here?" Harrison asked suddenly.

Nathaniel's expression remained impassive. "You fell asleep at the desk. Then you wandered in here and took my bed."

Her eyes widened. "Just me? Or... did we...?"

Innocent confusion filled her gaze. She truly didn't remember clinging to him, pressing close...

Perhaps it was better forgotten.

Nathaniel's lips curved mockingly. "Expecting something, Harrison? Believe me, I slept on the couch."