Chapter 273

The alcohol had left Isabella Sinclair pleasantly lightheaded, but the moment Nathaniel Kingsley's hand closed around her wrist, all traces of intoxication vanished.

Her delicate features—flushed cheeks, the tips of her ears, the graceful curve of her neck—all bloomed with a soft, rosy hue.

"Careful, Ms. Isabella."

Nathaniel mistook her unsteadiness for drunkenness. Concern darkened his gaze as his strong arms encirhered her slender waist, pulling her closer.

Then, his throat went dry.

Her waist was impossibly soft beneath his touch, sending a jolt of awareness through him. But Nathaniel was a man of discipline, not one to succumb to fleeting desire. He schooled his expression into neutrality, betraying nothing.

"Nathaniel, I'm leaving my sister in your hands tonight!"

Evelyn Prescott, ever perceptive, hadn't noticed the tension between them. With a careless wave, she looped her arm through Alexander Kingsley's and sauntered away, leaving the two alone in an awkward silence.

"Evelyn—" Isabella called after her, voice trembling, her pulse erratic.

"Don't worry, Isabella."

Nathaniel's voice was gentle, reassuring. "I promised your sister I'd see you home safely."

"That's not necessary, Nathaniel. I only had a little to drink. I'm fine." She tried to push away lightly, eager to prove her sobriety.

But Nathaniel wasn't convinced. He steadied her again. "You said the same thing last time, and yet—"

They both froze.

The memory of that heated kiss, shared in the haze of another drunken night, crashed over them.

Nathaniel's gaze lingered on Isabella's face—pale as porcelain, tinged with that telltale blush. His chest tightened with an unfamiliar ache.

"Nathaniel, last time... I was drunk. I'm sorry."

Isabella's voice was small, guilt shadowing her eyes.

A bolder woman might have seized this moment to confess her feelings. But Isabella, raised to be timid and reserved by her mother Eleanor, could only bury her emotions deep.

Even if Nathaniel was kind, even if their kiss had been real—she could never lay claim to the man her sister had once loved.

"Ms. Isabella." Nathaniel's voice roughened. He swallowed. "Was that... your first kiss?"

"Don't dwell on it, Nathaniel. I was drunk. It meant nothing." She forced a smile.

"But was it?"

Guilt gnawed at him.

He took a deliberate step back and bowed deeply. "I owe you an apology, Isabella. I was careless. Tell me—how can I make this right?"

Her heart stuttered.

Seeing him consumed by guilt, treating her with nothing but distant respect—it felt like swallowing glass.

"It's fine, really."

She inhaled shakily, blinking back tears as she reached out to lift him from his bow. "If you truly want to make it up to me... just be good to Evelyn from now on."

On the drive back, Evelyn leaned against Alexander's shoulder, drowsy.

She wanted to ask what Sebastian had said to Thaddeus.

But she didn't. Whatever it was, it wouldn't have been kind. Sebastian had a tongue sharper than a blade—sometimes, even crueler than her own.

She didn't want to hear how he'd torn Thaddeus apart. Not out of pity, but because she couldn't bear to see the man she'd once loved humiliated by those closest to her.

"Evelyn, still awake?" Alexander murmured.

"Mm. What is it?"

"Have you noticed something... odd between Nathaniel and Isabella?"

Evelyn blinked.

"There's a tension between them. An... ambiguity."

Ambiguity?

Evelyn's eyes widened. "Alexander, are you drunk? Is this a joke?"

"I don't joke about matters of the heart. Earlier, when Nathaniel was helping her—their expressions were telling. Especially Isabella. The way she looked at him... it reminded me of how you once looked at Thaddeus."

Evelyn stiffened. "Why bring me into this?"

But her mind raced, replaying every interaction between Nathaniel and Isabella.

When had this happened? How had she missed it?

"Nathaniel isn't getting any younger. He's been working tirelessly since university—first for me, now for you. He's overdue for a life beyond work."

Alexander's arm tightened around her. "If he wants to pursue something—or someone—I hope you'll support him."

Evelyn scoffed. "So the loyal puppy has fangs after all! Men really are all the same. One minute he's confessing to me, the next he's eyeing my sister? If he dares hurt her, I'll feed him to the wolves!"

"Wait—Nathaniel confessed to you?" Alexander arched a brow.

"Obviously. I turned him down. He's a good man, but I'm not interested. I won't string him along. But Isabella? That's too fast. I won't let her get hurt."

"Evelyn, Nathaniel isn't fickle. Perhaps... his feelings for you blurred into something else. You've been his first love, his focus for years. Maybe he didn't even realize when his heart shifted."

"That's ridiculous. How can you not know when you've fallen for someone?"

"Emotions are complicated." Alexander's gaze turned thoughtful. "Take Thaddeus. After everything, after he saved your life again—can you honestly say there's no love left? Only hate?"

Evelyn's breath hitched.

Memories flooded her—Thaddeus, bleeding, carrying her through the storm. Stripping off his clothes to keep her warm in that freezing cave.

Her chest burned.

Why?

Why could he be so selfless for Evelyn, yet so cruel to Isabella?

"Alexander, you know me. I don't do gray areas. Whatever tangled mess I feel for Thaddeus, there's no love left. I won't make the same mistake twice."

Her voice cracked as she stared out the window. "Burning myself for love once was enough."

Nathaniel drove Isabella back to campus in silence.

The Porsche glided to a stop beneath the silver glow of the moon.

Neither moved to exit.

"Thank you for the ride, Mr. Kingsley," Isabella finally whispered.

"Nathaniel is fine." His voice was stiff, formal. "I may have watched you grow up, but I'm just Evelyn's secretary. Your brothers are the Ashbourne heirs. I'm... beneath you."

Isabella flinched.

She heard the unspoken distance in his words. Tears pricked her eyes.

"Nathaniel, I won't trouble you anymore. Just... don't hate me, okay?"

"Ms. Isabella, you misunderstand. You're no trouble. I just... don't want to complicate your life."

He exhaled, leaning over to unbuckle her seatbelt.

Their breaths mingled. The air between them grew thick.

Nathaniel averted his eyes, straightening abruptly. "It's late. I'll walk you in."

He stepped out.

Isabella's chest hollowed.

That kiss had been a mistake.

How could a man like Nathaniel ever want someone like her?

She was fooling herself.

The passenger door opened. Nathaniel waited, ever the gentleman.

Isabella stepped out, lips pale.

"I can go alone—ah!"

A roaring engine cut her off. She clapped her hands over her ears, eyes squeezing shut—traumatized by childhood memories of screeching tires.

Nathaniel moved instantly.

He wrapped her in his arms, shielding her with his body as a silver Ferrari tore past, its wake ruffling his suit jacket.

"Shh. I've got you."

His voice was soft, soothing as he stroked her trembling back. Half his gaze was tender; the other half burned with fury at the reckless driver.

The Ferrari screeched to a halt.

The passenger door swung open.

A pair of long, toned legs emerged, followed by a woman—auburn curls, smoldering makeup, a skirt that left little to the imagination.