Chapter 13
Isabel
I feel nervous.
It creeps up my spine like a cold shiver I wasn’t expecting.
I’m never nervous around Nate—he’s always been my safe place, even when he wasn’t trying to be.
But now… now everything has shifted. There’s a weight pressing on my chest, not heavy with dread, but full with something I’ve tried to ignore.
My heart is screaming at me.
It’s not just attraction, not just the comfort of having someone to lean on. I’m falling for Nate. And that’s terrifying.
This was supposed to be fake. A temporary solution, an escape, a plan that made sense on paper. But now, every look he gives me feels like a spark I can’t put out, every touch lingers too long, every kiss curls into my soul and stays there.
I lean back against the kitchen counter and inhale deeply, trying to force logic back into the equation. What am I supposed to do?
Dinner’s ready. The kitchen smells like home—roasted herbs, warm bread, something sweet and vanilla-laced cooling on the island behind me. I’ve already set the table, lit a single candle just because it made the room feel less… big. Less empty.
I take off the apron and fold it neatly over the back of the chair, but my feet don’t move toward the table. Instead, they drag me upstairs. Like I don’t have a choice. Like I need to see him.
The sound of water running grows louder as I reach the bedroom. The ensuite door is slightly ajar, steam slipping out in curls like a secret being whispered. Then I hear it—Nate humming. A song I don’t recognize, soft and low and unguarded.
It makes me smile.
It’s this side of him that wrecks me—the one no one else gets to see.
The boy beneath the man. The man who doesn’t always have to be the heir, the athlete, the one who holds everything together.
When he’s alone, he lets go. He’s real. And that realness?
It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever known.
I walk to the edge of the bed, fingers trembling slightly as they reach for the buttons of his shirt I’m still wearing. My heart pounds in my chest, like it knows something I haven’t yet said out loud.
What would our life look like if we gave this a real chance?
The shirt slips from my shoulders as I wonder—what if I stop pretending? What if I let myself love him? Could he love me back? Could we turn this illusion into something that lasts?
I step toward the bathroom door, the cool air brushing my skin. I hear him still singing, completely unaware of the storm building in my chest.
I want to walk in and wrap my arms around him, press my cheek to his back and tell him he’s not alone. That I see him. All of him. That I don’t want this to be a deal anymore. I want to be his—his person, his heart, his future.
I close my eyes and whisper to the empty space between us.
Please, tell me he feels the same.
The bathroom is cloaked in steam, the heat clinging to my skin like a second layer. The scent of his soap—warm, earthy, familiar—fills my lungs as I quietly open the glass door of the shower.
He doesn’t hear me at first. Water cascades over his back, down his strong shoulders, his head tilted slightly under the stream. I watch him for a moment, heart pounding in my chest. How is it possible to feel so drawn to someone I’m supposed to be pretending with?
My fingers reach out, trembling slightly, and trace the curve of his spine. He stiffens for the briefest second before relaxing into my touch.
My lips brush against his back. Just a featherlight kiss. A silent I’m here.
“Hey, baby,” he says, voice low and rough like gravel wrapped in velvet.
He turns to face me, eyes dark and intense as they meet mine. His gaze drops for a second, slowly drinking me in, before returning to my face with a crooked smile that steals the air from my lungs.
“I was hoping you’d join me,” he murmurs, hands already reaching for my waist, pulling me in.
“Oh really?” I tease softly, my voice a whisper against the shower’s lull. “Why?”
His lips hover inches from mine. “Because I fucking missed you so much.”
His words curl around me like a rope, binding me tighter to him than I ever meant to be. I shouldn’t need that sentence to mean more. But I do.
“I missed you too,” I reply, a little breathless, my hands gliding up his chest, damp and warm beneath my touch.
His mouth crashes into mine then, raw and hungry, like he’s been waiting all day to kiss me.
And maybe he has. Maybe we both have. I pour everything into it—every moment I’ve spent pretending, every secret glance, every heartbeat that’s whispered his name when I wasn’t brave enough to say it out loud.
I rise onto my toes, deepening the kiss, pushing closer until there's no space left between us. His hands roam over my back, anchoring me in a world that feels suddenly real, not staged or strategic.
The water pelts down around us, but I barely feel it anymore.
When we finally part, just enough to breathe, his forehead rests against mine, our eyes still locked.
His voice is softer now, almost hesitant. “Is this okay?”
I nod slowly, lips brushing his again. “It’s more than okay.”
But I don’t say what’s clawing at my throat, threatening to escape.
I don’t tell him that this isn’t just desire. That every time he touches me, every time he sees me, I fall a little harder.
Because I’m afraid.
Afraid that if I say the words too soon, he won’t say them back. Afraid that what we’ve built, even if it started as pretend, might crumble under the weight of something as fragile as the truth.
So, I kiss him again instead. Slow. Deep. Unspoken.
* * *
The tension in the air is thick as Nathan moves around the kitchen, and uncorks a bottle of wine, his eyes never leaving me as he watches my every movement.
His gaze is a slow burn, like he’s waiting for something—anything—to break between us.
The way he looks at me sends a tremor through my body, stirring something deep within that I can’t quite shake.
Then my phone rings, jolting me out of the moment. I freeze when I see Dad’s name flash on the screen. My heart stutters in my chest. I swallow, feeling a weight settle on my shoulders as I step away from him, taking the call in the living room.
I massage my temple, trying to ease the sudden tension in my muscles as my father’s voice fills the room.
His words are sharp, calculated—full of expectations.
When the call ends, I’m frozen, my mind replaying every word, every tone.
Something about his words doesn’t sit right.
I can feel the pull, the pressure he’s trying to place on me, but I’m not sure what game he’s playing yet.
Nathan’s arms wrap around my waist from behind, pulling me close against his chest, and the heat of his body offers a fleeting comfort I don’t know if I deserve.
“Babe, is everything okay?” His voice is soft, but there’s an edge to it—something raw and protective that makes me feel like I’m his to protect.
I sigh, leaning back into his chest, closing my eyes for a moment. “Dad has something in mind... I’m not sure what yet, but I have the feeling that he’s trying to lead my way into politics.”
His arms tighten around me, a quiet growl vibrating through his chest. “I thought my dad was a piece of shit. No offense,” he says with a humorless chuckle, dragging me back toward the kitchen.
I giggle, shaking my head at him, but his touch keeps me tethered to the moment, and I’m not sure I want to escape it.
My heart is still racing, but when his hand rests on my waist, I can’t help but lean into him.
I feel a strange comfort in his presence, something that keeps me from falling apart under the weight of my father’s demands.
“Let’s focus on the here and now,” I murmur, taking out the veggies and carefully plating them. His eyes never leave me, his gaze warm and appreciative, and I feel like I’m the only thing that matters to him at this moment.
“You’d have my vote,” he says, a teasing glint in his eyes as he steals a piece of roast beef off the cutting board.
“Hey!” I swat at his hand, and he grins, leaning in to kiss my cheek as if he’s getting away with some great victory. But he can’t stop there, taking another piece of meat before I can react.
“Nate!” I scold, laughing despite myself, but his infectious joy makes it impossible to stay serious.
“Nate,” he mocks me in a playful sing-song voice before bursting into laughter. “You’re bringing out my childish side.”
My heart skips a beat. His laugh—so raw, so free—sends a rush of heat straight to my core.
“I missed that part of you, Nathan.” The words slip from my lips before I can stop them, and when I see the way his smile falters, I realize how true they are.
Something about him… it pulls at me in ways I can’t ignore.
His hand reaches for me, guiding me closer. I point the knife at him, trying to maintain some semblance of control. “Don’t push your luck, my captain,” I warn, my voice low and teasing, but my breath catches when he leans in closer.
He raises his hands in surrender, but his eyes are dark with something I can’t place. “You can’t blame me, babe. It’s delicious,” he says, a mischievous smile pulling at the corners of his lips.
I shake my head at him, fighting the urge to give in to whatever this is between us.
“If that’s what Lucas wants, what are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.” I sigh loudly.
“Whatever you choose to do, you’ll always have my support.”
I meet his eyes, unable to hide the raw emotion swirling inside of me. “Thank you,” I whisper, grateful for his steadiness, for the way he’s always there, no matter what.
He pulls out the chair for me, his hand pressing against my back as I sit down.
I watch him pour wine into my glass, the sound of it filling the silence between us.
His movements are slow, deliberate, but there’s a hunger there too.
It’s the same hunger I feel every time he’s near, like something we can’t ignore.
“I got the wedding rings before coming home,” he says with a wicked glint in his eyes.
I pause, the glass halfway to my lips, and my heart stutters. “I want to see them,” I almost plead, but he shakes his head with that same devilish smirk.
“Mmm, no, you can’t,” he teases, his voice low and sexy, just the way it sends shivers down my spine. He raises his glass for a toast, his eyes burning into mine as he says, “To us.”
I swallow hard, my heart pounding in my chest. “You’re such a bastard,” I say, the words coming out breathlessly.
“Yeah,” he chuckles, leaning in closer. “Your birthday’s just around the corner. Do you have any wishes that I can fulfill?”
More than one. More than I can say. I want to reach for him, kiss him, claim him as mine. But I don’t.
“No,” I say, forcing a smile as I look away from him, afraid he’ll see the longing in my eyes. “I already have everything I need.”
He squeezes my hand. “Are you sure?”
I nod, but my body betrays me. His eyes are so intense, so searching, like he can see right through me. I look away again, my pulse quickening, afraid that if I look too long, he’ll see everything I’m afraid to admit.
I want him. More than I’ve ever wanted anyone. But I can’t let him know.