Chapter 109
Isabella finished her meal and was immediately pulled toward the sofa by Oliver. He insisted she rest with him. It didn't take long before his breathing evened out into a soft, steady rhythm. He was asleep, curled on her lap. His small, warm body felt like a little ball of sunshine against her. She gently ran her fingers through his soft hair, her gaze drifting away from him.
It wandered across the room and into the kitchen.
Nathaniel stood there. A stark gray apron was tied over his impeccably tailored suit. He was washing dishes. The contrast was almost jarring. The formal business attire looked utterly out of place against the domestic backdrop of the kitchen. His movements were efficient, yet somehow still carried an air of practiced unfamiliarity. Outside, the heavy downpour had ceased. A single, brilliant beam of sunlight broke through the dissipating clouds. It cut through the window.
By some trick of light, it fell directly upon him.
The light gilded his tall, powerful frame, outlining him in gold. He looked devastatingly handsome, like a statue brought to life. Isabella found herself completely captivated. Her hand stilled on Oliver’s head. She watched, mesmerized.
She couldn't pinpoint the exact moment it had happened. Her life had become… louder. Fuller. Since these two had barged into it. The thought of future days without them…
She caught herself. A sigh escaped her. What was she thinking? A future without them would be no different than her present. She wasn't with them. This was a business arrangement. A contract. Nothing more.
The rain had stopped. Their reason for staying was gone. She deliberately turned her head away, closing her eyes. She willed the unwelcome, sentimental thoughts to scatter. Just then, Nathaniel entered the living room. The apron was gone. He was back to his usual, coolly composed self.
She didn’t look at him. “Take him,” she said, her tone direct and businesslike. “You can go home now.”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible today,” Nathaniel responded. He sat down on the sofa beside her. His arm casually draped over the back of the cushion, behind her shoulders.
“Why not?” Isabella scowled. What excuse had he concocted now to linger?
“Did you thoroughly read the agreement before you signed?” he asked, his voice devoid of any humor.
“Of course I did,” she retorted instantly. Isabella Montgomery was meticulous. She scrutinized every clause, every line of any contract she ever signed. No one had ever managed to trap her in fine print before. This contract was between her and Blackwood Corporation. There was no possible clause that could force Nathaniel to remain in her home.
Nathaniel held her gaze, his expression unreadable. “Recite the second to last clause for me.”
Isabella’s mind raced, pulling the document from her memory. “After signing the contract, Party B shall be obliged to confirm all plans related to the auto show with the appointed person-in-charge, henceforth known as Party A…” Her voice trailed off. Her frown deepened. “You’re the person-in-charge?”
“Yes.” The single word was delivered with utter seriousness.
A strange feeling washed over her. She felt outmaneuvered. Trapped. She never would have anticipated that Nathaniel Blackwood, the formidable CEO of a vast empire, would personally oversee a relatively minor contract like hers. She slumped back against the sofa cushions. “Fine. What plans need confirming?”
“Hmm…” He pretended to consider it for a moment. “As the person-in-charge, I need to ensure your runway walk meets our standards. Show me. Imagine you’re on the catwalk right now.”
“Nathaniel!” she snapped, her eyes flashing with warning. “Are you trying to get yourself hurt?”
He maintained his perfectly straight face. “What’s the issue? Pre-event practice is standard protocol.”
“Is it really?” she asked, her eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. A sharp, suspicious gleam flashed within them. Even if it was protocol, his motives were absolutely not pure.
He remained infuriatingly calm. “We can table the catwalk for now. In that case, simply show me a pose.”
“Get! Out!” The words were bitten out, sharp and clear. “I want you out of my house! You have three minutes!” She carefully lifted the sleeping Oliver and unceremoniously deposited him into Nathaniel’s arms. She stood up swiftly, turning on her heel. She marched toward the stairs without a backward glance. This man was infuriating. He was toying with her while wearing that maddeningly serious expression. She refused to play his game.