Chapter 798

Evelyn Sinclair had absolutely no desire to speak to Nathan Blackwood ever again.

Her gaze lifted, meeting Theodore Winslow's furtive glance. Before he could look away, Evelyn's voice cut through the tension.

"Theodore, hand me your phone, and I'll let this slide." After all, his vendetta was against Preston Sinclair, not her. She'd already settled the score for herself.

Though Preston had saved her life, she wouldn't betray Sterling Enterprises for him. The Sinclair name stood behind her now.

Theodore hesitated, fingers tightening around his device.

Nathan's warning came from behind, cold and sharp. "Go ahead. Try giving it—"

Evelyn's temper flared. "Nathan Blackwood, do you really think my people won't notice I'm missing? They'll find me soon enough."

Nathan's eyes flickered open.

Dark, unreadable, dull with exhaustion. "Is being with me truly that unbearable?"

A bitter laugh escaped her. "If our positions were reversed, would you be so eager to stay?"

He considered it for a moment. "Yes."

Evelyn exhaled sharply. Forget it. Arguing with this man is pointless. She leaned back, frustration simmering beneath her skin. One of these days, he's going to be the death of me. I swear, I won't let him off easy.

Having said his piece, Nathan closed his eyes again, retreating into silence. The car fell still, the smooth hum of the engine lulling Evelyn toward drowsiness.

She knew it was reckless, but exhaustion won. Her breathing steadied, her body relaxing into sleep.

The moment her breaths deepened, Nathan's eyes snapped open. He studied her, then carefully loosened his grip on her wrist. She didn't stir.

His expression softened, a rare tenderness surfacing. If only she weren’t so stubborn. If only she’d spare me half the patience she gives Preston...

He reached for the blanket beside him, draping it over her with deliberate care. His gaze dropped to her injured leg, and his jaw clenched. The sight of it still made his chest tighten.

A sharp glance at Theodore conveyed his next order.

Theodore understood immediately. He pulled up Bennett’s number and typed out a message.

"Mr. Blackwood will return Ms. Sinclair shortly."

Not a word more.

Nathan hadn’t wanted to say anything at all. He’d never liked Bennett—always hovering around Evelyn like a shadow. What if the man had ulterior motives?

But Theodore had insisted. If this incident spread to the Sinclair family, Nathan’s reputation would suffer. The Sinclairs already barely tolerated him. Reluctantly, Nathan had agreed.

The drive should have taken two hours. They arrived in ninety minutes.

Nathan’s displeasure was immediate. A frigid glare at the driver sent the man stiffening in his seat, too afraid to even glance back.

Evelyn was still asleep.

At Theodore’s signal, their car circled the city aimlessly.

Less than twenty minutes later, they were intercepted.

Luxury vehicles blocked their path at an intersection, the scene unfolding like something out of a high-stakes thriller.

Nathan’s expression darkened.

Theodore swallowed hard. "Mr. Blackwood, this—"

His voice disturbed Evelyn’s rest. Nathan’s glare silenced him instantly.

The car’s blackout curtains kept the interior pitch-dark. Evelyn stirred, blinking in confusion.

Nathan’s hand brushed hers, his voice deceptively gentle, as if their earlier argument had never happened.

"Awake?"

The tone was soothing, familiar.

"Preston?" The name slipped out before she could stop it.

The temperature in the car plummeted.

Ice filled the air.