Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Richard
I was satisfied with how things were going with Natalie. Most of the time.
Every morning, I'd find her at the breakfast table in loose loungewear, hair messy, eyes still heavy with sleep.
Gone were the hysterics and sharp confrontations from the beginning.
She'd even mumble a "thanks" when I handed her that specially made low-caffeine latte.
At dinner, she'd started lingering, sometimes talking about a book she'd read that day or complaining about some god-awful healthy recipe.
Occasionally, I'd let her visit the rose greenhouse behind the manor with tight security, or I'd drive her myself to some exclusive members-only garden club for a half-hour walk.
I liked this calm. Made me feel like I was getting things back under control, like a storm-tossed ship finally entering a harbor where I could plot the course.
Except for her constant bringing up moving out.
Like now.
"Richard, about me moving out, have you given it any more thought?"
Natalie sat in the wicker chair in the garden, fingertips gently stroking her rounded belly.
Her tone was calm but carried that stubborn edge she wouldn't let go of.
Sunlight caught her blonde hair, making her look docile as a kitten, but the moment she spoke, she was still trying to slip from my grasp.
Here we go again.
How many times this week? Third? Fourth?
I closed my folder and looked at her, my voice firm with zero room for negotiation.
"Natalie, we've been over this. You're in no condition to live alone.
The manor has the best medical team, the safest environment, everything you need right when you need it. "
She pressed her lips together, a flash of disappointment crossing those blue eyes, but she didn't snap back like before.
Just sighed softly and looked down at her belly.
"But it's so suffocating here. I want to be like before—go out without reporting in, walk around without a whole crew following me. .."
"Security is for you and the baby's safety." I tried to soften my tone, something I'd been practicing lately, reining in the aggression, learning patience with her. "The garden, the private club, the stables—anywhere you want to go, I'll arrange it. As long as someone goes with you."
She didn't argue. Just gave a quiet "mm."
That counted as progress.
Before, she'd explode, glare at me, slam doors, and lock herself in her room. Now at least she'd hear me out. Her edges were still there, but she wasn't constantly bristling at me anymore. Honestly, these small changes pleased me more than I'd admit.
One morning, Natalie was trying to reach a pregnancy picture book on the top shelf. She was on her toes, arm trembling, belly tightening with the stretch. I crossed the room in a few strides and grabbed it easily, my fingertips brushing her hand.
She froze, looked up at me, and said quietly, "Thank you."
Her eyes were so soft in that moment—no guard up, no hostility. Like a small animal finally willing to approach its owner.
My chest tightened. Heat stirred low in my gut.
"For stuff like this, just call me." My voice dropped, watching her ears turn pink, a twisted satisfaction crawling up from somewhere deep inside.
Being needed by her felt incredible.
I knew Natalie still had fight in her, still craved freedom, still wanted out of this manor.
But that initial fury and desperation in her eyes had slowly given way to a dull acceptance.
She'd listen carefully to the obstetrician's instructions, eat every nutritious meal, and talk softly to her belly.
She was accepting the baby, accepting this place, accepting me beside her.
That satisfied me. Made me feel almost sickeningly secure.
To spend more time with Natalie, I'd moved most of my work back to the manor.
Video meetings instead of in-person whenever possible, trips cancelled across the board, and anything requiring my physical presence got compressed to same-day turnarounds.
The upstairs temporary office became my headquarters.
Through the blinds, I could sometimes catch Natalie slowly walking through the garden below—it made even the dullest spreadsheets bearable.
The ice between us seemed to be thawing.
One night, I was working in the study when I heard a low cry from the master bedroom—suppressed, pained.
I was on my feet immediately.
"Natalie? What's wrong?"
In the darkness, Natalie was curled on the bed, one hand gripping her calf hard, biting her lip, a sheen of sweat on her forehead.
"Leg cramp," she forced out through clenched teeth, voice thin with pain. "It's fine, I can—"
I didn't let her finish. Sat on the edge of the bed, pried her hand away, covered her tense calf muscle with my palm, and started working it according to the technique Dr. Durand had specifically taught me last week for pregnancy-related spasms.
At first, Natalie's body was rigid, fingertips twisting the sheets into wrinkles, breathing short and suppressed, like she refused to let me hear her panting.
I found it amusing—what side of Natalie hadn't I seen? What sound hadn't I heard? This was pure denial. But I said nothing, just kept working slowly, forcing that locked muscle to release.
After about two minutes, I felt Natalie's muscle soften under my palm.
Her breathing shifted from rapid to deep, her fingers gradually loosening from the sheets.
She let out the faintest sigh—so quiet it barely existed, like a cat's satisfied, lazy sound in the dark, completely unconscious, her body's instinctive response after pain released.
Her skin was warm and soft under my palm, the curve of her calf fitting perfectly against my knuckles. Fuck, I was hard.
"Better?" I asked quietly, my voice rougher than intended.
"A little." Her voice was thick, nasal, like she was half-asleep or suppressing something else.
So I kept going, lighter now, shifting from pain relief to comfort.
In the darkness, only our breathing, and the warmth of Natalie's skin under my palm.
I could smell her hair—faint shampoo scent mixed with something uniquely pregnancy-related, warm and faintly sweet—that scent seemed to have hands, crawling from my nose into my chest, down through my bloodstream, pooling in my groin.
"Richard." Natalie suddenly said my name.
"Yeah?"
"Thank you."
I lowered my head, looking at Natalie's profile.
In the darkness, her lashes cast faint shadows on her cheekbones, a bit of uneven sweat still on her forehead, lips parted slightly.
Her pajama collar had loosened from lying on her side, exposing the rise and fall of her chest below her collarbone with each breath.
Damn, I was achingly hard.
Natalie was just that tempting.
I wanted to fuck her.
That thought lasted three seconds.
Forget it.
I couldn't scare Natalie.
Otherwise, afterward, she'd probably go cold on me all over again.
I pressed my palm against the mattress edge, knuckles white. I pulled back slowly, keeping just within breathing distance, looking down at her. My breathing was heavier than I meant it to be. I controlled myself, letting the hardness subside. "Natalie, sleep. I'm right here."
I pulled the covers up for her—the moment I leaned down, that warm-sweet scent washed over me again, the curve of her face directly in my line of sight, lips slightly parted, her warm breath brushing my jaw. I was hard enough to burst through my zipper.
But I did nothing. I watched Natalie fall asleep, then took a cold shower.
The next morning, Olivia called.
"Richard, this Southeast Asia joint venture risk assessment—we need to discuss it in person. Some of the data is too complex for a phone call." Olivia's voice came through businesslike as always, as if her confession that day had never happened.
Actually, I was fine with that. Olivia was indeed my capable assistant. With me away from the office lately, she'd taken a lot off my plate.
"I've already reviewed the report. Initial comments are in your email.
We can handle details in tomorrow's video conference.
" I stood at the study's floor-to-ceiling window, my gaze instinctively dropping to the garden below.
Natalie was walking slowly with Joseph, one hand supporting her lower back.
Six months pregnant, her body had changed noticeably, but to me, there was something achingly beautiful and fragile about it.
"Video conferences are too inefficient, and some sensitive information isn't appropriate for online discussion.
" Olivia paused, her voice lowering. "Richard, I know you have more important things to focus on right now.
But there are developments at the company you need to handle personally.
We need at least two hours. Uninterrupted. "
Her point was reasonable—the European market did have issues requiring my direct attention.
But I glanced down at Natalie's figure. I didn't want to leave her side, didn't want her out of my sight.
"Next week, Olivia." I gave a vague timeline. "I'll come to the office next Wednesday."
Silence for a few seconds, then her emotionless voice. "Fine. Hopefully, nothing more urgent comes up before then. The final agreement with Atlas Energy—legal has it ready. You know deals at this level require your signature in person."
The Atlas Energy partnership was worth nearly ten billion, and negotiations had taken nearly a year. No room for error.
"Got it." I hung up.
But when Wednesday came and I got to the conference room, I was told the Atlas CEO's schedule was tight—his plane was taking off in forty minutes. Documents had to be signed and submitted before takeoff, or the whole deal would be pushed back three months and require renegotiation.
I didn't think it was a problem until I was nearly done signing when David called.
"Sir, I'm on Route 403. There's been a multi-car pileup ahead, and traffic's completely gridlocked. I have the original authorization documents for Project K with Atlas Energy that you need this afternoon, but I won't get there for at least two hours."
I frowned. The Atlas CEO was taking off in forty minutes. Not even close to enough time.
And Project K was highly classified—couldn't be couriered, couldn't let strangers near it. David was the current holder, but he was stuck on Route 403...
My mind raced through alternatives when my phone screen lit up with a video call request—Olivia.
I answered. "What is it?"
Olivia's face appeared on screen. "David just messaged me about the situation. He's out of options. Isn't there a backup copy at Blackwood Manor? I'm about three miles from the estate right now. I can grab the file—thirty minutes round trip, plenty of time."
I was silent for two seconds. Project K clearance in the entire team was limited to me, David, and Olivia. Of course I knew there was a backup at the manor, but send Olivia there? Given how delicate things were with Natalie right now, it didn't seem wise.
But work-wise, it was the only option.
"Fine. David will give you the safe location and combination," I agreed. "Get the file and head straight to the office."
Someone had to retrieve the file, the person with clearance was nearby, Olivia would be in and out in under ten minutes. Natalie was probably napping right now—they wouldn't even cross paths.
On the line, Olivia's reassuring voice came through.
"Don't worry, I'll grab the file and leave. Won't disturb anyone."