Chapter 419
Nathaniel was focused on his laptop.
From her position, Isabella could clearly see the screen.
It displayed photos of her leaving The Grand Monarch.
There were also images of Alexander Whitmore.
Had Nathaniel sent people to follow her?
He heard the door open and turned quickly.
His eyes narrowed as he quietly closed the laptop.
"You're home," he stated.
Isabella nodded and locked the door behind her.
She entered the room casually.
"I saw everything," she said nonchalantly.
Had she really seen it all?
Nathaniel frowned deeply.
Did she see the images? Did she know he had her followed?
He pushed the thought aside.
His gaze swept over her critically.
"You changed clothes?" His voice was low and demanding.
He looked like a lion guarding his territory.
Isabella had intended to question him first.
She didn't expect him to turn the tables.
Memories of her interaction with Alexander surfaced.
A strange guilt washed over her.
"I ran into a dog," she replied coolly. "It was disgusting, so I changed."
Nathaniel's eyes darkened instantly.
That's all she had to say? 'Ran into a dog'?
She was in a room with a completely drunk Alexander.
They had a history together.
How was that just 'running into a dog'?
He suddenly rose from his seat.
He advanced toward her slowly, one deliberate step at a time.
Isabella frowned. "What—"
He was already in front of her before she could finish.
He scooped her into his arms effortlessly.
He carried her straight to the first-floor bathroom.
Unease prickled her skin. "What are you doing, Nathaniel?"
His silence felt ominous and distant.
He shut the bathroom door firmly behind them.
He placed her inside the large bathtub.
He turned on the water tap without a word.
Isabella tried to get up.
Nathaniel pressed her down firmly by her shoulders.
"Clean up," he instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument.
It finally dawned on her.
He was an even bigger clean freak than she was.
He was making her bathe because she encountered Alexander?
"Nathaniel, it was nothing. He just grabbed my wrists, touched my shoulder—"
"Just?" His eyes darkened dangerously. "You were expecting more than that?"
She was right. He was jealous.
Nathaniel took her wrists firmly.
He began rubbing them under the running water.
He scrubbed from her left wrist to her right.
He was so thorough her skin turned red.
He showed no intention of stopping.
The thought of Alexander touching her wrists infuriated him.
He rarely got to touch his own woman.
How dare that man lay a finger on her?
And her shoulder.
Did he grab her shoulder too?
The mere thought...
Nathaniel's eyes grew stormy.
He reached out to clean her shoulder.
His hand landed on her damp shirt.
Their eyes met. Both of them jolted at the contact.
"Get out," she insisted. "I'll wash myself thoroughly."
His trance broke. "I'm not convinced," he asserted.
He looked around and grabbed a towel.
He covered her with it roughly.
Then he continued washing her shoulder through the fabric.
Isabella was utterly speechless at his possessiveness.