Chapter 193

Nathaniel wanted Harrison to offer him a drink.

Harrison froze, her muscles tensing instantly.

Victor, too, stiffened in confusion. What was Nathaniel playing at? Was he actually interested in Harrison? If that were the case, Victor knew better than to compete with a man like Nathaniel for a woman's attention.

"What are you waiting for? Go offer Mr. Falcon the drink," Victor urged impatiently.

The other businessmen chuckled. "I've seen plenty of women trying to get Mr. Falcon to drink with them, but this is the first time I've seen him request it himself."

"Go on. Don't keep him waiting."

All eyes were on Harrison now, leaving her no choice but to step forward with the glass in hand.

She had no idea what Nathaniel's intentions were, but she forced herself to walk toward him, her grip tight around the glass.

"Mr. Falcon, your drink."

She stood while he remained seated, yet his presence still dominated the space. His gaze swept over her—cool, detached, the look of a powerful man assessing a woman who meant nothing to him.

When she hesitated, Nathaniel's lips curled into a faint, mocking smirk. "Who are you? Do you really think I'd drink just because you offered?"

Laughter erupted around them.

"Hah! That's right—Mr. Falcon doesn't accept drinks from just anyone," one of the men joked.

Harrison's jaw clenched. He had set her up—made her come forward only to humiliate her in front of everyone.

Her eyes flashed with anger before she turned sharply to leave.

But as she spun, her heel caught on the edge of the rug.

"Ah—!"

She gasped as she lost her balance, bracing for the impact of hitting the floor—and the inevitable laughter that would follow.

Instead, a strong arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her back effortlessly. She was steadied against a firm chest, her body pressed against Nathaniel's.

Harrison looked up in shock, finding his face mere inches from hers.

She was now seated on his thigh.

The clean, masculine scent of his cologne surrounded her, starkly different from the stale alcohol and cigar smoke clinging to the other men. He exuded power and refinement.

For a moment, she was too stunned to react.

Nathaniel studied her with an unreadable expression. "Was that intentional?"

More laughter filled the room.

"Women these days will do anything to get Mr. Falcon's attention."

"Looks like this one's determined to become Mrs. Falcon."

Harrison's face burned with humiliation. He knew damn well she hadn't planned this!

This was revenge—payback for the slap she'd given him, and the one she'd delivered to Isabella.

Or maybe he just despised her and enjoyed seeing her embarrassed.

She glared at him and tried to push herself up.

Nathaniel tightened his grip, keeping her in place. "Who are you?"

He asked again, his voice firm, as if daring her to answer.

"Tell them. Loudly."

Her pulse skipped. Was he trying to force her to admit she was his wife? Just to mock her further?

She struggled against his hold, desperate to stand.

"Beg me," he murmured, his voice low and commanding.

Beg me.

The words sent a shiver down her spine.

Nathaniel studied her pale face, his gaze lingering. It had been days since he'd seen her, and she seemed colder now—her expression rigid, as if he were nothing but a stranger.