Chapter 24 - Nathan
I can't sleep.
Eve is curled against me, her breathing soft and even, one hand resting on my chest. The city lights filter through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting her skin in shades of silver and shadow.
She's beautiful like this. Peaceful. Mine.
But something's wrong.
I slip carefully from the bed, leaving her tangled in the sheets, and make my way to the observation room. The monitors flicker to life at my touch, showing every angle of the penthouse in crisp detail.
I pull up the bedroom feed and watch her sleep.
This used to bring me satisfaction. The cold pleasure of a collector admiring his most prized possession. The quiet certainty that she was exactly where she belonged.
Now, as I watch her shift in sleep, reaching for the space where I'd been, I feel something else entirely.
Terror.
The realization hits me like a physical blow, stealing the breath from my lungs. I grip the edge of the desk, my knuckles white.
I love her.
Not the obsessive need I've been calling love for years. Not the guilt-driven compulsion to protect Alex's sister. Not the satisfaction of claiming what I'd decided was mine.
I love her. Eve. The woman who sketches in the morning light and blushes when I whisper her name. The brilliant mind that sees beauty in chaos. The soft heart she tries to hide beneath layers of strength.
I love her, and that means she has the power to destroy me.
The thought makes my hands shake. I've spent my entire adult life building walls, creating systems of control, ensuring that nothing and no one could ever touch me. I've made myself untouchable, invulnerable.
Until her.
On the screen, she sighs in her sleep, and my chest aches with something I can't name.
This isn't about control anymore. This isn't about atoning for Alex's death or keeping a promise to a ghost. This is real, raw, terrifying emotion that I can't manipulate or manage.
I run a hand through my hair, pacing the small room. What happens when she realizes the depth of what I've done? When she learns the full truth about the accident? When she understands that every moment of our relationship has been built on carefully constructed lies?
She'll leave. The certainty of it makes my stomach turn. She'll look at me with those green eyes and see not her protector, not her lover, but the monster who destroyed her entire world.
And I won't be able to stop her. Because love—real love—means she has power over me now.
The observation room suddenly feels like a prison.
***
Sinclair Designs headquarters buzzes with creative energy as I step through the door. I've been funding the operation from the shadows, ensuring Eve has every resource she needs while maintaining the illusion that she still runs her empire.
I find her in her office, standing at her design table with fabric samples spread before her. Lucy sits nearby, taking notes, but the easy friendship that once existed between them is gone. In its place is a wary professionalism that speaks volumes.
Eve doesn't notice me at first. She's too absorbed in her work, draping silk over a dress form, tilting her head to study the fall of the fabric.
"This collection needs to feel both structured and fluid," she says, her voice confident and clear. "I want the pieces to move like water but hold their shape like architecture."
Lucy makes a note. "I'll contact the fabric suppliers and request samples in the jewel tones you specified."
I lean against the doorframe, watching Eve command the room. This is the woman I fell in love with—not the broken creature I created in my obsession, but the brilliant artist who turns vision into reality.
She's thriving. Not despite my control, but because of it. I've removed all the obstacles, all the business concerns, leaving only her pure creative genius to flourish.
The thought fills me with pride and possession in equal measure.
She looks up then, catching sight of me, and her face transforms. That smile—God, that smile could bring me to my knees.
"Nathan," she says, crossing to me. "I didn't know you were coming by."
I pull her close, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Wanted to see my queen at work."
Lucy's expression tightens, but she says nothing. She knows better now.
***
Dinner at the Elysian Club's private dining room should be perfect. The food is exquisite, the wine perfectly paired, the ambiance designed for intimacy.
But I can't taste any of it.
Eve sits across from me, radiant in emerald silk, talking about her new collection with infectious enthusiasm. Every word she speaks, every gesture she makes, only deepens the terror coiling in my gut.
Because she's happy. Genuinely, completely happy.
And it's all based on lies.
"Nathan?" Her voice pulls me from my thoughts. "Are you listening?"
"Always," I say, reaching across the table to take her hand. "You were talking about your inspiration for the new collection."
She smiles, but there's concern in her eyes. "You seem distracted tonight."
"Just thinking."
"About what?"
About how you'd look at me if you knew the truth. About the boy I was—drunk, reckless, too scared to admit I was driving. About how I've built our entire relationship on the foundation of that lie.
"About how beautiful you are," I say instead.
She blushes, and the sight of it makes my chest ache. She still blushes for me. Still trusts me. Still looks at me like I'm worthy of her love.
What happens when she learns I'm not?
The question haunts me through the rest of the meal. I watch her eat, laugh, reach for my hand across the table, and all I can think is that I'm living on borrowed time.
Every moment with her is stolen. Every smile she gives me is based on a carefully constructed illusion. And when that illusion shatters—not if, but when—I'll lose her.
The thought is a black hole threatening to swallow me whole.
"I love you," I say suddenly, the words pulled from somewhere deep and desperate.
Eve blinks, surprised by the intensity. Then her expression softens, and she squeezes my hand. "I love you too."
But you don't know what you're loving, I think. You don't know the monster hiding behind the protector's mask.
She deserves better than this. Better than me. Better than a life built on manipulation and lies.
But I can't let her go. The thought of losing her is worse than death, worse than any torture I can imagine.
So I smile and kiss her fingers and pretend that everything is perfect. That we're just two people in love, sharing a beautiful dinner in a beautiful life.
I pretend that the foundation beneath us isn't crumbling. That the walls I've built aren't showing cracks. That her love for me isn't based on the biggest lie I've ever told.
And I pray—to a God I stopped believing in years ago—that she never discovers the truth.
Because if she does, I'll lose her.
And losing her would destroy me more completely than anything else ever could.