Chapter 255

This was a first for Isabella—being held so intimately by a man. Her cheeks burned as she squirmed in Nathaniel's arms.

Her legs felt weak, but she managed to press her palms against his chest, trying to push him away.

"Oh? So only my little brother gets to hold you?" Nathaniel's dark eyes traced the delicate curves of Isabella's flushed face. "Do you have feelings for him?"

The way her forehead glistened with a faint sheen of sweat, the enticing pink blooming across her cheeks—it all painted a picture of innocence and allure that made him want to tease her even more.

The Sinclair family was known for their striking genes. Each of Alexander's wives had possessed their own unique beauty, but the most breathtaking of them all had been Seraphina.

And Isabella had inherited her mother's ethereal grace, her skin glowing with youthful radiance.

Nathaniel was only human. His pulse quickened at the sight of such beauty.

"No, that's not it!" Isabella's face turned even redder.

"Then let me take you to rest." His grip around her slender waist didn't loosen.

"No, Mr. Nathaniel. I can manage on my own."

"You can barely stand. Don't push yourself."

Nathaniel leaned in closer, his face mere inches from hers—close enough to kiss. If not for Isabella's hands braced against his chest, their bodies would have been pressed flush together. "When we were kids, it wasn't just Sebastian who saw you. You don’t need to be so formal with me. Just call me Nathaniel."

"Miss Isabella!"

A sharp voice snapped her back to reality.

If Sebastian hadn’t arrived when he did, Nathaniel might have taken advantage of the moment. He had been so close to stealing a kiss! His little brother always ruined everything.

Nathaniel quickly schooled his expression into one of innocence and steadied Isabella. His cold gaze settled on Sebastian.

"Miss Isabella, why are you with my brother?" Sebastian's voice wavered, his eyes dark with concern.

From his angle, it had looked like Nathaniel was about to kiss her—and she hadn’t been resisting.

His throat tightened as if stuffed with cotton.

Isabella's heart fluttered. She rubbed her eyes, disoriented.

"Miss Isabella, answer me!" Sebastian demanded, stepping forward urgently.

Nathaniel's expression darkened as he shielded a pale Isabella. "Miss Isabella had too much to drink and nearly fell. I happened to be nearby and helped her. Is there a problem?"

"Did you really just help her?" Sebastian gritted his teeth.

The memory of Nathaniel's hungry gaze made his stomach twist.

"What are you implying?" Nathaniel scoffed, feigning offense. "You make it sound like I’m some beast in gentleman’s clothing. I’m a lawyer. I know the law. This is Miss Isabella’s home, and the Sinclairs are here. What exactly could I do?"

He smirked, adding pointedly, "Unlike you—already Chairman Alexander’s godson and Miss Arabella’s favorite. You can do whatever you want. I’ll take care of Miss Isabella. You go tend to your precious mistress."

With that, Nathaniel turned back to Isabella, his gaze softening with false affection.

Sebastian was so furious he couldn’t even speak. His fingers clenched, knuckles white.

"Nathaniel."

Seeing the brothers on the verge of arguing, Isabella weakly intervened. "I’m fine now. I’ve sobered up. Let’s go to the front hall."

"Of course. I’ll accompany you."

Just as they turned to leave, Sebastian couldn’t take it anymore. Eyes burning, he lunged forward and seized Isabella’s delicate wrist.

"Ah!" She winced at the sudden pressure.

"Miss Isabella, come with me."

Sebastian pulled her to his side, wrapping an arm protectively around her shoulders, forcing her to follow him.

Isabella’s heart ached. She kept her head bowed, tears shimmering in her eyes.

She didn’t want to go with him—but she couldn’t deny the part of her that still longed to be near him.

What was she supposed to do?

She still loved Sebastian so much.

Nathaniel didn’t chase after them. He wouldn’t risk his reputation over a woman.

Watching Sebastian and Isabella walk away—a perfect match—and recalling the fire in Sebastian’s eyes as he fought for her, Nathaniel suddenly realized something. A slow, sinister smile curled his lips.

"If you can be Chairman Alexander’s godson, why can’t I become President Sinclair’s son-in-law?"

Sebastian took Isabella straight to her room and firmly shut the door behind them.

"Ugh, I feel awful..." Isabella collapsed onto the couch, her chest rising and falling with labored breaths.

She had sobered slightly, but the sudden movement made her head spin again.

Sebastian had been seething, but seeing her discomfort dissolved his anger.

"Why did you drink so much? You know you can’t handle alcohol."

He sighed, shaking his head, then quickly poured her a glass of water. "Miss Isabella, sit up and drink this."

"I don’t want to. I don’t feel like it."

She turned away, her voice thick with resentment. "Just go. I want to rest."

"You can’t sleep here. You’ll catch a cold."

"I don’t need your concern. Go take care of my sister!" Isabella curled into herself, lashing out in a fit of drunken pique.

Sebastian froze, a dull ache spreading through his chest.

Without another word, he scooped her up and carried her to the bedroom.

"Sebastian—put me down!" Her heart hammered wildly.

Her legs dangled, and her fluffy slippers slipped off, revealing delicate, bare feet.

Sebastian’s gaze flickered downward instinctively.

The sight of her pale, dainty feet hit him like a punch to the gut. A sinful heat rushed through him. He quickly looked away, throat dry, pulse erratic.

Gently, he laid her on the bed and tucked her in.

"Miss Isabella. Good night."

But Isabella, in her drunken haze, suddenly grabbed his hand with surprising strength.

With a sharp tug, she pulled him off balance—and he landed on top of her.

Their chests pressed together. Noses brushed.

And then—

Their lips met.

Sebastian’s eyes widened in shock. His body trembled, blood roaring in his ears.

It was sweet.

So unbearably sweet.

Isabella, half-conscious, wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss.

Outside, the night was soft, the crescent moon smirking down at them.

The dinner had ended on an uneasy note, thanks to Nathaniel.

The Vanderbilt family left in three cars. On the way back, Reginald said coldly, "Sebastian, ride with your mother. I need to speak with Nathaniel."

Nathaniel scowled but followed his father into the car.

Sebastian sat with his mother in the backseat while Preston took the passenger side.

Under the dim car light, Mrs. Vanderbilt noticed Sebastian’s flushed cheeks, distant gaze, and rapid breathing.

"Sebastian, are you feeling unwell? Do you have a fever?" She always worried over her youngest son.

"Huh? Mom, what did you say?" Sebastian blinked, still dazed.

It was as if he hadn’t fully returned from that kiss.

"Sebastian, why is your face so red?"

Preston smirked through the rearview mirror. "Did you finally kiss your first love? I remember looking exactly like that after my first kiss."

"Preston, shut up."

Sebastian coughed, his face burning hotter. "Mom, I’m fine. Don’t worry. Tomorrow morning, I’ll pick up Miss Isabella and return to Elmsworth. My break is over. It’s time to get back to work."

Mrs. Vanderbilt remembered how her beloved son had humbly washed Arabella’s feet in front of everyone. It made her uneasy. "Sebastian, why did you leave a promising position as President Sinclair’s secretary to work for Miss Arabella? The Sinclair fortune will still go to the eldest son, won’t it?"

"Mom, haven’t you seen the news? Miss Arabella is a sensation in Elmsworth. They call her the 'Billionaire Heiress.' I think she’s just as capable as President Sinclair," Preston chimed in.

"Only because her father is Alexander. She can do whatever she wants without consequences!" Mrs. Vanderbilt muttered bitterly.

"Mom, Miss Arabella treats me well. I’m happy working for her."

Sebastian took his mother’s hand, his gaze intense. "Most importantly, she needs me. No matter how hard it gets, I’ll stay by her side—unless she no longer wants me."

Mrs. Vanderbilt stiffened, feeling as if her son had chosen another woman over her.

Preston nearly choked. That had sounded like a love confession.

"Son, do you really think Arabella returns your feelings?"

Mrs. Vanderbilt was convinced Arabella had bewitched him with her beauty. She needed to save him from this "trap." "You’re our pride, Sebastian! Look at what you’ve been doing since you started following Arabella! Even if our family owes the Sinclairs, she has no right to disrespect you like this!"

Seeing his mother on the verge of tears, Sebastian pulled her into a hug.

"Mom, you’re overthinking it. Miss Arabella is a good person. She’s never demanded anything from me. Everything I do for her, I do willingly."

Meanwhile, in the other car, the tension was just as thick.

"From now on, stay away from the Sinclairs!" Reginald snapped. "I raised you to remember your roots, not to be ungrateful! Money isn’t everything. You’re already a billionaire—what more do you want? Why provoke the Abernathys and make trouble for the Sinclairs?"

"What did I do wrong? It’s the Sinclairs who are overbearing!"

Nathaniel, still fuming over the night’s humiliation, clenched his jaw. "Arabella must have tattled to Alexander. He’s trying to take over my law firm by investing in Pinnacle Ventures! I won’t let that little witch win. I’ll make sure she falls hard."

"You’re still not listening!"

Reginald’s face reddened with fury. "I’m your father, and everything I say is for your own good! The Sinclairs aren’t like the Abernathys—all smiles on the outside but scheming behind closed doors. No one knows better than me how united that family is. If you provoke them, you’ll only bring ruin upon yourself!"

Nathaniel remained defiant, convinced his father was exaggerating.

"Don’t drag your brothers into your mess!"

After resolving his inner turmoil, Sebastian returned to work with Arabella.

Though his first love had ended in melancholy, it had brought him clarity.

But one thing still haunted him.

That night—when Isabella, drunk and dazed, had kissed him so deeply.

"Sebastian? Sebastian! The pan is burning!"

Arabella’s shout snapped him out of his thoughts. He blinked—the frying pan in front of him was billowing black smoke.

"Oh no!"

He hastily turned off the stove and tossed the ruined pan into the sink.

"What’s wrong with you? You’ve been distracted for days—did a ghost possess you?"

Arabella rushed over, checking him for injuries first.

"Sorry, Miss Arabella. I just didn’t sleep well. I’ll make you another one."

His heart pounded as he moved to clean up, but Arabella stopped him.

"No need. We’re short on time. Let’s eat out." She paused. "Oh, and take me to Misty Mountain Park this afternoon. I need to meet Professor Leo."