Chapter 264

The golden chandeliers of the Blackwood estate cast shimmering reflections across the marble floors as Evelyn Sinclair adjusted the emerald pendant at her throat. Her fingers trembled slightly - not from the autumn chill creeping through the French windows, but from the weight of Nathan Blackwood's gaze burning into her back.

"Must you leave so soon?" His voice, dark as aged whiskey, curled around her like smoke. The scent of his cologne - bergamot and something dangerously masculine - made her pulse stutter.

Evelyn turned slowly, the silk of her midnight-blue gown whispering against her thighs. "The gala starts in forty minutes, and Victoria will have my head if I'm late to my own book launch." She forced a smile, though her stomach twisted at the thought of facing Nathan's predatory secretary.

Nathan stepped closer, his tailored tuxedo emphasizing shoulders that could carry empires. Moonlight caught the silver at his temples as he lifted a hand toward her face. "Let her wait." His thumb brushed her lower lip, smearing the berry-colored stain. "I've been waiting six years for this moment."

Beyond the terrace, Manhattan glittered like a spilled jewelry box. Evelyn's breath hitched when Nathan's other hand settled possessively at her waist. The heat of his palm seared through layers of chiffon and silk.

"Six years," he murmured against her temple, "since you walked out of my life wearing that same damn perfume." His lips traced the shell of her ear. "Jasmine and trouble."

A crash from the foyer shattered the moment. "Ms. Sinclair!" Lillian Graves's panicked voice preceded the assistant's frantic footsteps. "The florist sent peonies instead of gardenias, and Mr. Donovan just arrived with—oh!" She skidded to a stop, cheeks flaming at the intimate scene.

Nathan didn't remove his hands. "Tell Marcus Donovan he can cool his heels with the rest of the vultures."

Evelyn extricated herself with practiced grace, though her knees threatened to buckle. "We'll continue this... conversation later." She smoothed her dress, avoiding Nathan's knowing smirk. "Lillian, let's handle the flowers. And for God's sake, keep Preston Whitmore away from the champagne this time."

As she swept toward the chaos of pre-gala preparations, Evelyn resisted the urge to glance back. Nathan's presence was a physical weight between her shoulder blades, as tangible as the emerald pendant warming against her skin - his first gift, given the night everything fell apart.

Somewhere beyond the ballroom, a string quartet began tuning their instruments. The melody twisted like a knife between Evelyn's ribs. Six years ago, this same song had played as she walked away from Nathan Blackwood. Tonight, it would play as she walked back into his arms - or his trap.

She touched the pendant again. Either way, the game was far from over.

When Evelyn stirred awake, she found herself enveloped in a cocoon of warmth.

Her nose brushed against the firm planes of his chest, inhaling the intoxicating scent that clung to him—a mix of sandalwood and something uniquely Nathan.

A soft sigh escaped her lips.

Then, a tickle teased her nose, and instinctively, she nuzzled deeper against him, only to feel him shift slightly away.

Blinking sleepily, she lifted her gaze—

And froze.

The face above her was nothing short of breathtaking. Sharp jawline, tousled dark hair, and those piercing eyes that seemed to see straight through her.

Oh God.

Memories of last night flooded back—her shameless demands, the way she’d clung to him like a limpet. Heat rushed to her cheeks.

She wasn’t prone to insomnia, but sleep quality varied.

Yet, in both her lifetimes, she’d never slept so soundly.

Nathan was like a living, breathing sedative.

"Morning," he murmured, his voice rough with sleep, sending shivers down her spine.

They adjusted positions, and Evelyn reluctantly extricated herself from his arms.

But when she got a proper look at his face—pale, almost green—her embarrassment flared anew.

"Not used to sharing a bed? Didn’t sleep well?"

He hesitated, then offered a strained smile. "No, I slept fine. Better than when I’m alone."

Evelyn arched a brow. This was his idea of well-rested?

Truthfully, Nathan hadn’t slept a wink. Thank God Evelyn couldn’t peek into his mind—otherwise, his lie would’ve crumbled instantly.

It wasn’t the sharing that was the problem.

It was her.

Evelyn was a restless sleeper. Tossing, turning, and worst of all—clingy.

She’d latched onto him like ivy, arms and legs tangled around him in a vice grip.

At first, it was endearing.

Then, it became torture.

He’d actually gotten up at one point, needing space to… compose himself.

Never in his life had he felt so undignified.

And the moment he’d returned?

She’d coiled around him again, leaving him utterly helpless.

Now, as she studied him with those wide, innocent eyes, he fought the urge to groan.

This woman would be the death of him.

Nathan had just barely managed to suppress his natural morning reaction when Evelyn stirred awake beside him, and instantly, his self-control teetered on the edge.

Of course, he couldn’t blame his wife—this was entirely his own weakness.

"Ah!"

Evelyn suddenly gasped, jolting upright.

"What's wrong?" Nathan was already halfway out of bed when he heard her, his pulse spiking with concern. Had he lost control last night? Had he left a mark on her delicate skin? He’d checked—discreetly—and found nothing. He hadn’t dared to be rough, after all.

"It's already nine-thirty!" Evelyn exclaimed, eyes wide. "You're late for work!"

Normally, by the time Evelyn woke, Nathan was already buried in paperwork at the office. Their mornings never aligned.

"It's fine," Nathan assured her.

He’d been awake for hours, but he’d made a promise. He wouldn’t disturb her sleep, not when she was curled so perfectly against him.

Evelyn blinked at him, stunned.

Was this really Nathan Blackwood? The man who lived and breathed business? The workaholic who never took a day off? Had she truly bewitched him so completely? If he neglected his empire for her, what would happen to his fortune?

Nathan sighed, reading her thoughts. So money still matters to her, huh?

Amused, he stepped closer and tapped her forehead lightly.

"Since you're awake, get up. We’ll have breakfast together. And don’t worry—I’ll leave for the office right after."

Evelyn let out a dry chuckle.

Nathan’s belongings were in his own room, so he had to leave. But before he did, he hesitated, then asked, "Did you sleep well last night?"

Evelyn, now standing and stretching, nodded. "Best sleep I’ve had in ages."

Nathan lingered by the door, his fingers resting on the knob. He didn’t dare look at her as he murmured, "So… should I come back tomorrow? To be your personal pillow?"

Evelyn paused, surprised. She’d assumed last night was a one-time indulgence.

His offer was undeniably tempting.

After a beat, she finally answered, "Alright. Sure."

Nathan exhaled in relief.

Since Evelyn still seemed hesitant, Nathan chose not to push for moving his belongings in just yet. For now, it was enough that he could visit every night to be her personal pillow.

He was confident that, given time, Evelyn would gradually open her heart to him.

When the two descended the stairs together, the entire Blackwood family was watching intently. Even Sophia, who should have left for work by now, had deliberately stayed behind—just to witness this rare sight.

After all, it wasn’t like Nathan to still be lounging around at this hour instead of heading to the office.

Had something actually happened last night? Was that why he overslept?

But seeing Evelyn’s calm, composed expression—her mind clearly preoccupied with thoughts of Vivian and Gwendolyn’s situation—they quickly realized nothing had occurred.

The disappointed, judgmental stares from Richard, Margaret, and Sophia bore into Nathan, making him falter mid-step, heat creeping up his neck.

Left with no other outlet, the trio vented their frustrations in their private group chat.

Afterward, they happily settled at the dining table with Evelyn and Nathan, chatting over breakfast.

Even though Evelyn used to keep erratic hours, the Blackwoods had always made sure she never ate alone. Someone would always join her, even if just for tea. They refused to let her feel isolated.

As they exchanged the latest gossip, Evelyn’s inner reflections gave them insight into recent developments.

Vivian and Gwendolyn had finally made peace. The sisters had talked late into the night, until exhaustion claimed them. They’d even fallen asleep curled up together, like they used to as children.

As for Grayson—well, the only casualty seemed to be his pride. Shockingly, Lila’s family had caused a scene, demanding he marry her. They accused him of toying with her affections. Given his already ruined reputation, they argued, a marriage alliance would be the best solution.

The Blackwoods exchanged glances. Seriously? Would Lila even want Grayson now?

Nathan was certain Grayson would never agree.

The Hart family, however, had actually started considering it. They knew Grayson’s actions last night had infuriated the Moores, making him the laughingstock of their social circle. At this point, no respectable family would let their daughter marry him. Lila, at least, was infatuated—she’d stand by him unconditionally.

The Blackwoods sighed. Hard to say if Grayson deserves pity or not.

The Harts had planned to take Grayson to meet Lila and discuss the marriage. But in a twist no one saw coming, Grayson escaped through a window mid-meeting, leaving behind a note: I’d rather die than marry someone I don’t love. Unfortunately, he broke his leg in the process, effectively ending all discussions.

The Blackwoods blinked. Well… that’s tragic. But also kind of hilarious. What even is his life?

Nathan felt the beginnings of a tension headache creeping in. It appeared he would need to carve out time that afternoon to handle the unfortunate situation.

Sure enough, when he checked his phone, a message from Daniel was already waiting. The news had spread, and Daniel wanted Nathan to join him for a visit.

When Nathan asked Evelyn if she wished to accompany them, she declined. She remembered how Grayson had once teased her relentlessly about her metaphysical beliefs. If she went now, he might blame her for his misfortunes, and that would only invite unnecessary drama.

Before heading to the office, Nathan made a brief stop, offering a few words of sympathy before hurrying off to focus on his work.

The rumor mill had spun wildly—simply because it was so rare for Nathan to be late. The reason? He had overslept. Nathan wasn’t one to fabricate excuses, so the truth had to be genuine.

Could it be that even the unshakable Nathan Blackwood had been so captivated by a woman’s allure that he lost track of time?

His employees refused to believe he’d overslept alone. They were convinced his tardiness could only mean one thing—he’d been with his wife.

Whispers about the couple’s deepening affection spread like wildfire. Some even started placing bets on when their wedding would finally take place.

Little did they know, Nathan was just getting started.

Yet after that incident, he was never late again. Evelyn had firmly declared herself a heavy sleeper, assuring him he could wake up whenever he pleased.

Though leaving the warmth of her embrace was agonizing, he knew exactly what his greatest advantage was in Evelyn’s eyes.

A few days later, Evelyn found herself back at Blackwood Group.

This time, she had a legitimate reason—she was meeting Nathan after work so they could shop together for Beatrice’s engagement gift.

The second-floor balcony was a hotspot for unexpected encounters.

While Nathan was in a meeting, Evelyn sipped her coffee, enjoying the view. A burst of laughter drew her attention as a group strolled in, chatting animatedly.

"Mr. Moore, don’t worry. Ms. Sterling will absolutely be our top choice for the lead role in this project."

"No need to prioritize her. I’m quite close with Mr. Blackwood. Honestly, this minor issue isn’t even worth mentioning."

Evelyn frowned.

Turning, she spotted a man who bore a faint resemblance to Lucas, his arm draped possessively around a woman dressed in a scandalously tight dress, her expression sharp and calculating.

Her identity was unmistakable.

The whispers had begun again.

Evelyn Sinclair could feel the weight of countless gazes burning into her back as she walked through the grand hall of the Blackwood estate. The air was thick with unspoken words, the kind that slithered between champagne flutes and polished smiles.

Oh, gossip.

No—that wasn’t quite right.

Nathan Blackwood’s sharp-tongued sister, Sophia, had once remarked that this level of scrutiny wasn’t mere gossip anymore. It was something far more insidious. Something that clung to Evelyn’s every move like a second skin.

She adjusted the strap of her emerald-green gown, the silk whispering against her skin. The dress was daring—cut low in the back, the fabric shimmering under the chandelier’s glow. She had chosen it deliberately.

Let them stare.

Let them whisper.

She wasn’t the same woman who had stumbled into this world of old money and sharper tongues.

Nathan’s presence was a storm brewing at the edge of the room. He stood near the towering windows, his dark suit a stark contrast to the golden light spilling in from the gardens. His gaze, heavy and unreadable, tracked her every step.

Evelyn tilted her chin up.

She wasn’t afraid of him.

Not anymore.

A server offered her a flute of champagne, and she accepted it with a practiced smile. The bubbles danced on her tongue, crisp and cold.

Perfect.

Just like the plan unfolding in her mind.

Victoria Hayes, Nathan’s ever-loyal secretary, watched her from across the room. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, her fingers clenched around her own glass.

Evelyn smirked.

Oh, Victoria. You have no idea what’s coming.

The music swelled, a haunting melody that wrapped around the guests like a velvet glove.

Nathan pushed away from the window.

He moved with the lethal grace of a predator, his steps measured, deliberate.

Evelyn didn’t flinch.

She met him halfway.

The room held its breath.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he murmured, his voice rough, his breath warm against her ear.

Evelyn laughed, low and throaty.

“Darling,” she purred, tracing the rim of her glass with one fingertip. “I’m just getting started.”

And then—just like that—she turned on her heel and walked away, leaving him standing there, his jaw tight, his eyes burning.

The whispers erupted behind her.

Let them talk.

She had a empire to build.

And Nathan Blackwood?

He was just another piece on the board.