Chapter 207

Nathaniel's eyes lifted, and there she stood—Harrison, her delicate frame appearing almost ethereal against the harshness of the world. She had arrived.

His lips pressed into a thin line. "What are you doing here? Who told you to come?"

Harrison stepped forward, closing the distance until she stood directly in front of him.

"Dominic!" Nathaniel's voice was sharp. "Dominic, where's the woman I instructed you to prepare? Why isn't she here?"

Silence.

No response came.

Harrison remained quiet as well.

Nathaniel tugged at his collar, frustration simmering beneath his composed exterior.

"Leave," he snapped at her.

Harrison lowered her long lashes, meeting his gaze with quiet defiance. "Fine. I'll go."

She turned to walk away.

In an instant, a strong hand shot out, gripping her wrist with bruising force. His voice was low, rough with barely restrained anger. "Harrison!"

Nathaniel was furious, her name escaping through clenched teeth.

She turned back, her lashes fluttering as she regarded him with a faint, teasing glint in her eyes. "What do you want?"

Nathaniel yanked her toward him, and her slender body tumbled onto his lap. His skin burned, the effects of the incense long since taking hold. Only sheer willpower had kept him in control until now.

Since returning to Emerald Heights, his vision had blurred, his thoughts clouded.

Now, with Harrison's soft warmth pressed against him, Nathaniel buried his face in her hair, his lips seeking hers. His fingers slid beneath the hem of her blouse, tracing the smooth curve of her waist.

Harrison trembled slightly, a flicker of nervousness betraying her otherwise calm demeanor.

"Why are you shaking?" His voice was rough. "Never been touched before?"

She looked up at him. The usual composed, controlled man was gone—replaced by raw hunger, his gaze dark and unapologetic.

Did he truly think she was the type to flit between men?

Was that why he treated her so carelessly?

Harrison bit her lip, frustration boiling over. She raised her hand, aiming to strike him.

This time, she didn't succeed. Nathaniel caught her wrist mid-air, his grip unyielding. In one swift motion, he pinned her beneath him on the sofa, his heated body trapping her. "You've developed a bad habit. Try that again, and see what happens."

Only she would dare raise a hand against him.

Harrison struggled. "Let go of me."

Nathaniel released her wrist, but his fingers moved to the buttons of her blouse, intent on undoing them.

"Nathaniel, wait. I can help you."

Her fingers brushed against the needle at her waist. She gripped it tightly, ready to press it into one of his pressure points.

But Nathaniel was no ordinary man. He knocked the needle from her grasp before she could act. "What do you think you're doing?"

The needle clattered onto the carpet. Harrison immediately reached for it. "My needle!"

Nathaniel watched as she stretched forward, her silky dark hair cascading over her shoulders, tangling around her slender arms. Her profile was flawless, her skin like porcelain. She was breathtaking.

His gaze lingered, studying her with the intensity of a man who had finally found what he desired. Before Harrison, he hadn't been sure what his type was.

Isabella had been his treasure, his obsession. Everyone assumed he preferred women as bold and striking as crimson roses. He had thought so too.

Until Harrison.

Somehow, she embodied everything he found irresistible.

Nathaniel's eyes remained fixed on her as his fingers moved to the belt at his waist. With a sharp tug, he undid it, the sound cutting through the tension. His heated body pressed down on hers, trapping her completely.

He leaned closer, murmuring her name against her skin. "Harrison."

Her fingers brushed the needle on the carpet. She was so close—

Then she felt the hem of her skirt being pushed up.