Chapter 75

Evelyn's fingers trembled slightly as she adjusted the Gothic-style gown on the mannequin. The intricate lace and dark velvet fabric contrasted sharply with the sterile white walls of her office at "Soul" Jewelry Studio.

Nathan Goldmann leaned against the doorframe, his piercing gaze tracing the curve of her spine.

She has no idea how captivating she is when she's focused.

Even in a modest dress, the memory of her in that crimson gown at the gala burned in his mind—the way the fabric clung to her curves, the way every man in the room had watched her. His jaw clenched.

Evelyn turned, expecting to see Gregory with the measuring tape. Instead, she froze.

Him. Again.

She forced a polite smile. "Mr. Goldmann. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

His lips curved, but his eyes remained unreadable. "What do you think?"

Her pulse spiked. She could step back—but that would only provoke him.

Fine. If he wants to play, I’ll play.

With deliberate slowness, she closed the distance between them. Her fingers lifted, brushing his chin. His eyes darkened.

"Tell me," she murmured, tilting her head. "Are you really this obsessed with me?"

His expression didn’t waver. "You flatter yourself."

She laughed, low and throaty. "Oh, please. A woman like me? Gorgeous, intelligent, dangerous—of course you’re tempted." Her fingers trailed down to the first button of his suit. "If you want me so badly, I could always—"

His hand snapped around her wrist. "Careful, Evelyn. You’re treading on thin ice."

She smirked. "I don’t know the meaning of caution. Maybe you should teach me."

His grip tightened. Then, without warning, he guided her hand lower—to his belt buckle.

Her breath hitched.

"Isn’t this more efficient?" His voice was a dark whisper.

Earlier that day, Nathan had stood in his office, staring at the damning report Oliver had handed him.

Victor Baldwin.

The name alone made his blood run cold.

"Sir," Oliver said carefully, "there’s more. The night Evelyn was drugged at the lounge—Vivian was the one who took her there. And the man waiting for her? Victor Baldwin."

Nathan’s fingers curled into fists.

Victor wasn’t just some minor player. He was a predator—one who had set his sights on Evelyn years ago.

"From today," Nathan said icily, "Baldwin’s Imperial Real Estate ceases to exist in Bassburgh."

Now, in her studio, Evelyn’s bravado faltered.

Nathan’s thumb traced her pulse point, feeling the rapid flutter beneath her skin.

"Nervous?" he taunted.

She swallowed. Damn it.

She had meant to disgust him, to push him away—but he wasn’t backing down.

And worse?

She wasn’t sure she wanted him to.