Chapter 277

Nathaniel's pulse hammered violently, his gaze softening as it landed on Isabella for the first time in what felt like forever.

Yet her words, sharp and laced with ice, cut through him like a blade. His vision blurred as he stared into her eyes—eyes that once held warmth but now brimmed with something unreadable. "Master!"

Vanessa's expression twisted in confusion at the sight of Isabella. A thousand questions burned in her mind, but none escaped her lips. "Nathaniel, what are you doing here?" Isabella asked, her tone detached.

The utter lack of warmth in her demeanor, as if their shared past and near-death experience meant nothing, sent Nathaniel's heart plummeting. Still, he answered with sincerity, "I came to see you."

"Spare me the lies. Do you even believe your own words?" A mocking smile curled Isabella's lips as she dismissed him entirely.

Nathaniel had no retort.

"That's enough. You've seen her. Now leave." Vanessa, visibly irritated, commanded him to go.

She despised this man—once entangled with a gold-digger, now trying to worm his way back into Isabella's life. His mere presence felt like a stain on their space.

"I'm not leaving." Nathaniel's eyes burned with determination.

"Do I need to fetch a baseball bat to make you?" Vanessa, usually composed in public, had no patience when it came to protecting those she loved.

"Isabella."

Her heart clenched at the sound of her name from his lips.

Ignoring Vanessa, Nathaniel kept his focus solely on Isabella. "I need to talk to you."

Isabella?

The nickname hung in the air, foreign yet intimate.

During their three years of marriage, he had always addressed her formally, sometimes skipping her name altogether. Daniel, standing nearby, nearly grinned—his boss was finally showing a change of heart!

"Watch your tone. You're divorced now, and my master clearly wants nothing to do with you. Address her properly—Ms. Sinclair."

"Say what you need to say."

Isabella issued the command coldly before turning to leave.

Nathaniel felt a flicker of hope. Despite his efforts to remain composed, the corners of his lips twitched upward. Without hesitation, he followed her.

Daniel barely contained his amusement, thoroughly enjoying the sight of Nathaniel fighting to win back his wife.

Vanessa, unable to stop him, redirected her frustration at Daniel with a lethal glare. "Stay outside. No one associated with Nathaniel is allowed in!"

Nathaniel caught up to Isabella effortlessly.

But she didn’t spare him a single glance. He was no longer the center of her universe.

And yet—it didn’t matter.

Her decision to let him stay meant his persistence hadn’t gone unnoticed. No matter how small the opening, he would seize it.

He had let her slip away once.

Now, he would fight to bring her back.

As they reached the studio door, Isabella stopped abruptly but didn’t turn around.

"Isabella."

"Who gave you the right to call me that?"

She finally faced him, her gaze glacial, devoid of any warmth. "You might not find it strange, but I find it repulsive."

"I just don’t want us to be strangers." Nathaniel’s chest tightened. He didn’t understand her anger.

The man who dominated boardrooms and international negotiations was now at a loss for words before the woman he loved.

"Mr. Kingsley, don’t call me that. It makes me feel like I’m on the same level as some cheap woman, and that’s an insult to my dignity." Her voice was sharp as frost.

Nathaniel’s lips pressed into a thin line, his throat burning with unspoken pain.

He realized the wounds he’d inflicted hadn’t healed. If anything, they had festered.

She wasn’t considering forgiveness. She was clinging to every scar and throwing them back at him.

"Isabella, when I call you that, it has nothing to do with anyone else," Nathaniel rasped, his voice rough.

"Enough."

She pushed the door open, cutting him off. "Don’t flatter yourself. I only brought you here because I know you. If I didn’t let you say your piece today, you’d never leave. I just didn’t want Vanessa to deal with you."

Nathaniel’s expression darkened as he watched her retreating figure.

She had only allowed him inside for one reason—Seraphina’s birthday was approaching. With her days packed, she could only work on the dress at night. Every second counted.

Isabella picked up a jade hairpin from the table and twisted her silken hair into a loose bun.

Nathaniel’s gaze softened, his fingers twitching with the urge to touch.

Her hair was thick, glossy—begging to be threaded through his fingers.

He remembered their honeymoon nights, how her restless sleeping had often sent strands spilling onto his side of the bed. Careful not to tug, he’d always gathered them gently.

A pang of sorrow hit him, his eyes reddening silently.

Back then, she had been within reach. Now, he didn’t even have the right to touch her.

"Hey."

Isabella held a safety pin between her lips as she bent over the dress, stitching decorations in place. "How have you been lately?"

"I’ve been fine." His voice was low, rough.

"Hmm."

Her fingers moved tirelessly, long lashes fluttering as she glanced at the man standing stiffly. "Aren’t you going to say what you came here to say? Spit it out."

Nathaniel hesitated.

"Cat got your tongue? If you’re wasting my time, I’ll have Vanessa throw you out."

His chest tightened. If he didn’t speak now, he’d lose his chance. Quickly, he said, "I came to ask Ms. Bennett about someone."

"Who?"

"Valentina."

Isabella’s expression remained neutral, but her fingertips trembled slightly. "Valentina? The world-renowned designer? What do you want with her?"

"I need her to come out of retirement and design a dress for me."

"She’s busy. Forget it." Isabella’s tone was dismissive, a scoff echoing in her mind.

This man—first trying to commission Arabella for jewelry, now Valentina for a dress. Does he think the world revolves around him?

Nathaniel frowned. "How do you know she’s busy? Do you know her?"

"Why do you want her to design a dress?" Isabella countered, evading the question.

"An acquaintance’s birthday is coming up. I want to gift them a custom design." His answer was vague.

He didn’t want to reveal it was for Seraphina—hoping to surprise her later.

But while his intentions were pure, Isabella’s interpretation was far from it.

A sardonic smile curved her lips. "Ah, right. This weekend is Mrs. Lockwood’s birthday. You’re using this chance to impress Mr. Lockwood and gift your stepmother, aren’t you? How thoughtful."

"Isabella." Nathaniel’s brows furrowed, displeasure flashing in his eyes.

It wasn’t her taunts that bothered him—it was being misunderstood.

"If you contact Valentina, don’t mention it’s for Victoria’s birthday. She might just curse you out."

Suppressing her irritation, Isabella turned away, no longer willing to look at him. "Are you done? Get out. I’m busy, and you’re distracting me. Ah!"

Distracted, she pricked her finger with the needle, a small gasp escaping her.

"What happened? Are you hurt?"

Nathaniel was at her side in an instant, concern flooding his gaze as he took her delicate hand.

A single drop of blood welled on her fingertip.

His expression darkened as if he’d felt the sting himself. "Does it hurt?"

"Let go." She tried to pull away, but his grip was firm.

The blood bloomed like a crimson rose against her skin, his eyes warming at the sight.

Then—before she could react—he brought her finger to his lips.

"You—!" Isabella’s eyes widened, her pulse skyrocketing.

The warmth of his mouth enveloped her finger, his tongue gently soothing the wound.

A jolt of electricity shot through her, spreading from her fingertip to every nerve.

Her breath hitched, cheeks flushing as her finger trembled uncontrollably in his grasp.

Feeling her shiver, Nathaniel’s eyes darkened, his lips brushing over her knuckles—alternating between featherlight and firm.

Their gazes locked, and Isabella’s legs weakened, her head spinning.

The heat in his eyes mirrored that passionate night under the moonlight—just as intoxicating.

Though they weren’t doing anything, it felt like everything.

Nathaniel’s breathing grew ragged, the air between them thickening.

"Enough!"

Panicked, Isabella yanked her hand back as if burned.

But as she stepped away, Nathaniel’s arm snaked around her waist, pulling her flush against him.

"Nathaniel! What do you think you’re doing?" Fear flickered in her eyes.

His heart pounded uncontrollably, gaze burning into hers. Their bodies pressed together, heartbeats and heat merging.

"Isabella, I want to kiss you." The confession was raw, his desire laid bare.

"Don’t—"

Her protest died as his lips crashed onto hers, swallowing her words, parting her lips with relentless hunger.

And then—he deepened the kiss, claiming her completely.