Chapter 44

"Why won't you look at me?" Nathaniel's voice was velvet soft, almost pleading.

For a man of Nathaniel's wealth, power, and influence, this rare moment of vulnerability could easily be mistaken for genuine devotion—a dangerous illusion that threatened to pull Harrison into his emotional orbit.

But Harrison knew better. She was painfully aware that Nathaniel's heart had never belonged to her.

It had always been Isabella's.

Harrison kept her gaze lowered, long lashes trembling slightly as she attempted to stand. "Release me!"

Nathaniel's lips curved into an amused smile. "Are you angry with me?"

Harrison let out a dry laugh. "Why would I be?"

His voice dropped to a concerned murmur. "Did I hurt you earlier? When you fell—did you injure your back?"

She shook her head. "No."

Yet Nathaniel's large hand found the small of her back, fingers tracing the spot with surprising gentleness as he leaned closer. "Here?"

The exact spot.

Harrison had seen the bruises earlier—dark purple blooms against pale skin that would take weeks to fade. Now, with Nathaniel's warm palm pressed against the tender area, she hated how his touch could still make her pulse stutter.

She despised this game—the way he alternated between cruelty and kindness. She didn't want his pity. She'd rather he remained cold. The bruises would heal regardless.

Harrison shoved his hand away. "I'm fine. Let go!"

This was new. Nathaniel had seen anger before—Isabella's fiery outbursts that demanded immediate appeasement.

But Harrison's anger was different. Quiet. Withdrawn. Like a stray cat that curled into itself rather than hissing, making you want to coax it out.

Now she fought him, refusing to let him touch her.

Nathaniel studied her freshly washed face—dewy and untouched, like morning dew on a rose petal.

"If you won't tell me, I'll have to check myself." His fingers hooked under her shirt hem, lifting it slowly.

The sudden chill on her thighs made Harrison gasp. She immediately slapped a hand over the rising fabric.

Her wide, startled eyes locked onto his. "What are you doing? I'm not wearing anything under this, you creep!"

Nathaniel froze.

That hadn't been his intention.

He'd only meant to examine the injury, but as the fabric lifted, reality struck. She'd been sitting across his lap this whole time, her bare legs draped over his tailored trousers—pale skin against dark fabric, soft curves against hard muscle.

The image burned into his mind—those slender thighs pressing together instinctively. Warm. Smooth.

Being called a "creep" was a first. Nathaniel found himself at a loss for words.

"I didn't mean to," he finally managed.

Harrison wasn't having it. "That's what they all say!"

Then his phone rang—the shrill tone cutting through the tension.

It sat on the nightstand where he'd left it earlier. Harrison's gaze flicked to the screen, where a familiar name flashed: Isabella.noveldrama

Isabella was calling.

Harrison knew why. She'd been waiting at the hospital, wondering where Nathaniel was.

The thought made her shove Nathaniel away, scrambling off his lap.

Was he going back to Isabella tonight?