Chapter 224
Nathan's voice was dangerously low as he whispered against Evelyn's ear, "Zoe, if I suffer any consequences from restraining myself tonight, you'll be the one to blame."
Back at the Goldmann estate, Nathan carried Evelyn straight upstairs and tossed her onto the bed.
She scrambled to push him away, her cheeks flushed. "The kids—they're home! This isn't appropriate—"
"They're asleep," he murmured, peeling away her clothes like unwrapping a gift.
"But—the hotel suite! It'll go to waste!"
"I don't care about the money."
"Nathan—mmph!" His lips crashed against hers, swallowing her protests.
Just as she struggled to catch her breath, he suddenly pulled back. The air between them grew thick with tension.
Nathan stood abruptly, his back turned to her, his jaw tight.
Evelyn blinked in confusion.
That's it?
She stole a glance at him.
This man, with his godlike physique and devastating charm… has performance issues? So he really never touched Vivian all those years? Then what happened between us six years ago must have been a fluke.
Her heart softened.
If that's the case, I can't let him feel embarrassed. He's been so good to the kids. I should be more understanding.
"Nathan," she said gently, "it's okay. Even if you have… limitations, I won't judge you."
Silence would have been better.
His gaze snapped to hers, icy and sharp. "Are you questioning my ability?"
Evelyn opened her mouth to respond, but he was already pinning her beneath him. "I think I need to prove myself."
In the next moment, she realized her mistake.
The night stretched endlessly.
Morning light filtered through the curtains.
Evelyn groaned as she stirred, every muscle in her body aching. Her throat was raw.
I should never have said that.
An arm slid around her waist, pulling her back against a hard chest. A deep, satisfied voice rumbled against her ear. "Awake?"
She shivered.
This man is insatiable.
By late afternoon, Evelyn finally returned to her studio, wearing a high-necked sweater to hide the marks on her skin.
As she entered, she spotted a tall, elegant man studying the jewelry display.
Her pulse jumped when he turned.
Lucas Laurent?
She crossed her arms, eyeing him from the sofa. "Did Mrs. de Arma send you?"
Lucas took a sip of tea, his expression unreadable. "Consider it so. My mother wishes to see you. I know you've avoided her because of the Vanderbilt situation, so I came instead."
"I told you—I don't claim the de Arma name. I'm a Vanderbilt."
"But you don't acknowledge them either," he countered smoothly. "Your ties to the Vanderbilts aren't as strong as you pretend, are they?"
Evelyn paused, meeting his gaze. "Even if my relationship with them is strained, it doesn't change my bloodline."
"Whether you accept the de Arma name or not doesn't matter." He set down his cup. "My grandfather simply wants to reunite with his granddaughter."
He slid a business card across the table. "When you're ready to learn about your mother, contact me."
Her eyes flicked to the embossed logo.
Royal Academy of Music?