Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Richard
The meeting had been going for twenty minutes, but I hadn't heard a single word.
My fingertips drummed against the conference table. The rhythm betrayed an irritation I didn't want to admit—it had been forty minutes since I'd texted Natalie, and she hadn't responded. She was the type who checked her phone constantly. No way she hadn't seen it.
So she was ignoring me on purpose.
Why would she ignore me?
The executive across from me droned on about market share. Those numbers grated worse than nails on a chalkboard. I stood, cutting him off mid-sentence. "We're done here. David will reschedule."
I walked out, ignoring the stunned looks behind me.
In the elevator, I called Natalie. The ring stretched out endlessly before going to voicemail. Five times. Five fucking times. Finally, I had to accept a fact that made my temples throb.
She'd blocked me.
I floored it back to the apartment, already rehearsing what I'd say. "Natalie, what the hell are you playing at?" But when I pushed open the door, I froze.
My slippers were gone from the entryway. My jacket had vanished from the couch. The groceries I'd bought were cleared from the kitchen counter. My water glass, pen, scarf from the nightstand... Every trace of me had been erased, like I'd never existed here at all.
Damn it. She'd thrown out my stuff? What the hell had gotten into her? This came out of nowhere. Just last night, we'd had perfectly good sex.
I called David, barely containing my rage. "Find out where Natalie is. Now."
Two minutes later, he called back. "Sir, your wife—uh, Miss Green is attending a fashion gala in Las Vegas. Notting Hill Rose Hotel."
The Notting Hill Rose Hotel lobby blazed with light, crystal chandeliers turning everything bright as day.
The moment I walked in, half the room went quiet.
Guests with champagne flutes, women in gowns, businessmen mid-conversation—every eye landed on me.
I was used to it. My whole life, wherever I showed up, this was the effect.
But I didn't look at any of them. I cut through the crowd, my gaze locked on the center stage.
She wore a silver fringe dress that fit like it was made for her—not too tight, but showing off the fuller, softer curves pregnancy had given her.
No mask. That face that obsessed me was right there for everyone to see, so beautiful it made me want to possess her no matter what it took.
Natalie held the microphone, and when she opened her mouth, her voice came out low and lazy, broken and sexy, every note dragging across my skin like a feather. I got hard instantly.
Christ.
She was even more stunning than I'd imagined. More captivating. More capable of making me lose control.
The song ended. Applause thundered. Before I could reach her, some guy beat me to it. Carl Vincent. A fairly well-known independent music producer in LA.
Carl leaned in, listening to Natalie with complete focus. The way he looked at her was obvious: appreciation, admiration, and aggressive intent. And Natalie was actually smiling at him. A real smile, so much better than the forced ones she gave me. That thought drove me insane.
I strode through the crowd and stopped right in front of them.
"Carl." My voice wasn't loud, but it cut through their cozy little moment.
Carl turned. When he saw me, surprise flickered across his face. "Richard? Didn't expect to run into you here. Since when are you interested in these kinds of events?"
I ignored him. My eyes were on Natalie.
When she saw me, she instinctively stepped back half a step. What was that supposed to mean? Was she trying to distance herself from me for Carl's sake? Damn well better not be.
Carl's gaze swept over me with amusement. "Richard, Miss Green and I were just discussing a very interesting musical collaboration..."
"She's not available." I cut him off. "Not now. Not ever. Carl, you need to stay away from her."
Carl's smile faded slightly, but he still had the nerve to provoke me.
"As far as I know, your marriage to Miss Green is over.
I'm approaching this as a music producer talking business with a singer who has real potential.
" He paused, like something had just occurred to him.
"Oh, right, speaking of which, I was invited to a music festival competition at her college years ago.
Had the privilege of hearing her perform.
I remember exactly how I felt—absolutely love at first sight.
Unfortunately, she married you after that.
But now that Miss Green is single again, I think I have every right to express my admiration and pursue her. "
I stepped forward, voice dropping low with chilling menace.
"Carl, Natalie belongs to me, every inch of her, past and future.
You'll never get a chance, and neither will anyone else.
Keep your admiration and your pursuit to yourself.
Otherwise, I don't mind bankrupting your music company.
And I mean it." Because it would be as easy as breathing.
Carl's expression turned ugly. I didn't spare him another glance. I grabbed Natalie's wrist and started pulling her out of the ballroom.
"What are you doing! Richard! Let go of me!" She struggled, voice tight with anger and alarm.
"Looks like I've been too lenient with you lately, Natalie.
" I held her wrist tight, leaning down to murmur in her ear, breath hot against her sensitive skin.
I felt her tiny shiver with satisfaction—whether from anger or something else.
"You actually blocked me? Threw out my stuff? Who gave you permission?"
"What I do is none of your business!!" She forced the words through clenched teeth, trying to turn her face away, but I grabbed her chin and made her look at me.
Her breathing quickened. Her chest rose and fell, silver fringe swaying with each breath, catching the light. Her eyes were getting red, but the tears didn't fall—she was holding them back. That stubborn, damn, infuriating expression that I both hated and loved.
Her face was inches from mine. Close enough to see a tiny speck of glitter on her lashes. Close enough to feel her breath on my lips. Fuck the rules. Fuck the setting. Fuck everyone watching.
I crushed my mouth to hers.
"Mmph—!"
Her eyes went wide with shock, body trying to retreat, but my hand cupped the back of her head.
She had nowhere to go. The kiss was brutal—punishment, marking, claiming.
I ground against her soft lips, pried her teeth apart, took her breath like I owned it.
She still tasted the same—orange blossom and a hint of mint. Sweet as hell.
I needed everyone to know. Natalie was mine.
Time seemed to stop. I heard gasps, felt countless eyes and camera flashes focused on us. But I didn't stop.
Not until her body went soft, her fingers clutching my shirt shifting from pushing me away to holding on.
Only then did I pull back slightly. My lips stayed close to hers, close enough that every breath she took brushed my mouth.
Her eyes were hazy, her lips swollen from my bite, lipstick probably smeared everywhere.
I looked into those blue eyes, saw myself reflected there.
Then I scooped her up. She yelped, instinctively wrapping her arms around my neck. I carried her out of the ballroom in long strides and put her in my car.
"Why did you block me?" My voice went cold, cold enough to unsettle even myself. "Why did you throw out all my stuff?"
She didn't answer. Just bit her lip and glared at me, chin tilted up defiantly.
"Natalie, what the hell are you trying to do?"
Still nothing.
"You'd rather laugh and talk with other men than speak to me?" My patience was stretched to its limit, about to snap. "You like being surrounded by men that much? Or do you think someone like Carl can help you get away from me?"
Her lashes trembled.
"Don't even think about it," I said.
That finally got to her. She whipped her head toward me, eyes red.
"Richard, what right do you have to lecture me?" She sucked in a breath, voice harder now. "I saw you kissing Olivia at the restaurant. You did that, and I'm not even allowed to talk to a man?"
I froze. So that was it.
"I didn't kiss her." I took a deep breath. "What you saw must have been the angle. There's nothing between me and Olivia."
Natalie stared at me. She looked like she was about to cry, but no tears came. Eventually, she didn't say anything else, just turned to look out the window. That silence was more aggravating than any argument. The whole drive back to the apartment, neither of us spoke.
When we got back, Natalie went straight to the bedroom. I stood in the middle of the living room, looking at this space she'd cleaned out—spotless but colder and emptier than ever. For the first time, I felt something close to helplessness.
The stuff she'd thrown out didn't matter. But her attitude, her silence—it tangled around my brain like a knot I couldn't untie.
I pulled out my phone and made a call. It rang for a long time before someone picked up.
"Hello? Richard? Did the sun rise in the west? You're calling me at this hour?" Background noise from Nick's end—music and women's laughter.
"Nick." I rubbed my aching temple, ignoring his teasing and getting straight to it. "Natalie and I are in a cold war. How do I fix it?"
Silence for two seconds. The music seemed to dim. Then Nick burst out laughing, the sound full of disbelief.
"Jesus, Richard, you're calling me in the middle of the night to ask how to make up with your ex-wife?
" He paused, laughter fading but sarcasm intensifying.
"Seriously, man, a woman who only knows how to nod and smile at galas, make polite small talk—she's not worth the trouble.
You can have any woman you want. Olivia's a solid choice. .."
"Nick." I cut him off, tone carrying a clear warning.
I didn't like how he talked about Natalie—that dismissive way of treating her like some meaningless accessory.
Even if I'd thought similarly once, hearing it from someone else now was particularly grating.
"I didn't ask for your opinion of Natalie. I asked what to do."
Silence on the other end. Nick's tone became slightly more serious.
"What's hard about dealing with someone like Natalie?
Give her a credit card, buy some jewelry, or create some small problem for her father—she'll come running back.
Girls from families like hers know how to calculate advantages.
As for the cold war? She just wants more attention.
Say some sweet things and you're golden. "
"I've already tried all that. None of it worked." I rubbed my temple again. "She thinks I kissed another woman. That's why she's upset."
"You're saying Natalie's jealous?" Nick sounded like he'd heard a joke.
"Richard, your marriage was transactional from the start.
How could there be real feelings? If she actually cared, she wouldn't have divorced you so decisively and run off to Vegas to be some masked singer.
Plus, she's pregnant with God knows whose kid. Dude, wasting energy on her is just—"
"Enough." I cut the call, tossing my phone aside. Nick was completely useless. For a moment, I didn't want to talk to him ever again.
I rubbed my temples and opened the bedroom door. Natalie lay on her side, back to the door, body curled up in self-protection. I stood in the doorway watching for a moment, then walked over, lifted the covers, and lay down.
Her body tensed obviously, but she didn't move or speak.
I reached out and pulled her into my arms from behind. At first, her body resisted stiffly, but maybe from exhaustion, maybe from pregnancy drowsiness, or maybe... something else, she gradually softened. Soon she was asleep. In her sleep, Natalie unconsciously pressed closer into my embrace.
That tiny gesture strangely soothed the violence and irritation churning in my chest.
I tightened my arms, holding her more securely.
The next day, photos of me kissing Natalie onstage exploded online. Sensational headlines dominated trending topics. Comments said Natalie only got famous because of me, some even speculating she had other sponsors. I'd love nothing more than for Natalie to let me be her sponsor.
I glanced at Natalie still sleeping, left the bedroom, and called David. "Get rid of all the negative topics, photos, videos, and discussions. Everything. Send legal notices. Hold everyone accountable."
"Yes. Should we prepare a public statement for Miss Green? Or arrange interviews with reputable media to showcase her musical work—"
"No." I cut him off. Given how resistant Natalie was to me right now, she'd never cooperate with any clarification I arranged. "Just make the malicious commenters and media outlets pay. That's enough."
"Understood."
"Also. Get a new set of my personal items. Clothing, toiletries, and basic office equipment. Have them sent to Natalie's apartment. Now." I had a feeling I'd be staying here for a while.
After hanging up, I went back to the bedroom. Natalie was awake. She sat propped against the headboard, phone in hand, screen lit, face even paler than yesterday, lips pressed tight.