Chapter 32
For the first time in a long time, I've woken up to rays of sunlight warming up the window glass. Usually, the maximum amount of sleep I'd get was around a few hours, and even then, I would always find myself awake in the middle of the night.
As it turns out, I had slept through what was left of the night and most of the afternoon. And it felt fantastic.
I also hadn't been alone.
Nathan's warm, firm chest felt so supple against my cheek. The steady beating of his heart sounded like music, lulling my eyes closed again. His breathing was deep and even, with his soft exhale gently tickling my forehead. His arms were solid around me, and just as I was about to melt into deeper contentment, he wordlessly pulled me tighter against him. That chocolate and cinnamon aftershave engulfed me.
I sighed.
No longer did I feel numb and cold – Nathan's heat and energy had chased it all away. Our clothes had been shed and discarded all along the floor, telling the story of what had occurred last night.
A pair of shoes had somehow been left along the hallway – one down the flight of stairs, and the other at the room's entrance. My bra was clinging to the door handle by the strap, near where Nate had pinned me against the wall. Disheveling me, peeling me apart slowly, worshipping my soft, puckered skin with his mouth. Kneeling down, hastily removing whatever article of clothing stood in his way. And God, the ungodly noises that poured out of me...
I clamped a hand over my mouth, alarmed at the thought of waking our sleeping neighbors. Nathan stopped. His lips and tongue moved away from where I wanted them most, maneuvering himself upwards – removing my hand. "I love hearing you." He was smirking, and looked positively wicked against the silvery light. "And I love you. I need to hear you."
Strewn across his desk chair were his jeans – with the belt still looped and intact. I had been in such a rush to consume him; to finish what I'd started in that car. I'd thrown Nathan onto that chair and climbed onto his lap, wrapping myself around him and succumbing to that building urgency. Igniting my bones, making me feel heady and bold. Eagerly undoing his pants – and those eyes watching me, ravenous, amazed at such boldness. His husky laughter when my eagerness got the better of me – a laughter cut very short once my hands had slithered downwards, quickly replaced by his panting. Those moans.
I could've died right then.
"Jesus," he grunted. He was a vision – shirt open, chest heaving. Skin glistening. "If we don't make it to that bed right now, so help me I'll never forgive myself."
The trail of clothes ended by the bed. His shirt and my skirt were a messy puddle spilled along the floor. We did end up making it to the bed, after all. And it was everything I'd imagined.
Nathan had delivered on his promise – it had been real, and perfect, and special.
Both the first and second round.
I stretched out my sore limbs languorously, feeling my mouth with surprise. I laughed to myself – my lips were tender from so much kissing. The sheets that surrounded me were exactly how I remembered them at the night of Nathan's party – crisp and soft against my bare legs. Somewhere in the back of my half-asleep mind, I knew my mother would be having a heart attack upon the realization that I hadn't been in my bedroom, getting ready for school. But I couldn't yet bring myself to care. Not in that moment.
Let it wait for another lifetime. Nothing else mattered beyond this.
I loved him. And he loved me back.
I lifted my head to gaze down at Nate's sleeping figure. He seemed so peaceful when asleep – his long lashes occasionally fluttered, and a sigh would leave his mouth here and there. But he always pulled me closer, almost subconsciously bringing me right against him. It felt like my heart was continually on the verge of bursting out from my chest. I wondered when in my life I had ever been so happy.
I knew the answer to that.
Never.
Despite all the horrible circumstances that the investigation had forced upon me, I was absolutely grateful for one thing – Nathan. Back when things were still normal, back when I thought I had the whole world figured out, I figured that what I had felt for Robbie was love. His lukewarm affection had been the closest thing I could find. Turns out I hadn't even known the meaning of the word.
Up until now.
I now understood how Robbie and Jenny's love hadn't been real. They had used one another, taking only what they each needed as a means to their separate ends. Robbie needed Jenny to tuck himself away, to hide from the truth. Jenny needed Robbie to further her aspirations. As a result, both of them were forced to conceal the parts of themselves that the other could not accept. And in the end, their accumulated feelings of bitterness and resentment had been their demise.
But what I had with Nathan – this deep, unwavering connection, our steady acceptance of one another, the sense of mutual purpose in which we both shared... That was love. So was I willing to give up the one thing that made me who I was, all for the sake of keeping it?
Yes, I decided, watching Nate's eyes flutter open. A thousand times yes.
He groaned and shifted slightly, throwing an arm over his eyes. "Go back to sleep, angel. It's too early," he slurred. I could feel the vibration of his voice run against my skin.
I chuckled. "Actually, it's past two in the afternoon," I teased him, softly. "Class is about to finish up. We totally slept through everything."
He froze underneath me, then moved his arm away to look me in the eye. "Serious?" he asked drowsily.
"Mm-hm." I grinned. "My mom's going to kill me once I get home." After some thought, my mouth tugged into a frown. "And so will Peter and Angelica, while we're at it."
"I'd like to be at it," he grinned, stroking my hip. I slapped his hand away.
"Quit it." I laughed. "Were both rounds not enough for you?"
"Not with you looking at me like that – no," was his suggestive answer. He planted a soft, slow kiss on my lips. "Never enough." Then another. And then another.
His kisses were deepening, getting heated. I wrapped myself around him instinctively, leaning into his kiss, taking more and more of him. Tuning into his warmth, his strength as he gathered me tightly to him and rolled us over.
Gearing up for yet another round.
That was when I heard the muted voices echoing down the hallway. Seeing as Nate's house was absolutely massive, it was a wonder I could barely hear it. I wrapped my fingers around locks of his hair, almost leisurely, as his lips broke apart from mine and made their way down my neck. "Is someone downstairs?" I asked absent-mindedly.
"Most likely, yeah." Nathan sounded very much distracted, his fingers trailing up and down my thighs. Grabbing hold of them, wrapping them around himself. He tilted his head up slightly to place a light kiss on my jaw. "Relax. It's probably just Mom arguing with one of the housekeepers."
"You sure?" It sounded a lot more like yelling to me. The voices were growing louder and louder – a dark masculine voice shouted something menacing.
Nathan froze.
"Shit," he hissed angrily, before disentangling himself, abruptly pulling away from me. He slid out of bed and yanked a nearby shirt over his head, scrambling to find the rest of his clothes.
"What? Who is it?" I panicked; scurrying out of those inviting covers to do the same. Without thinking, he walked over to his closet and tossed a checkered polo at my direction, probably to cover up the only sad, thin camisole I had to wear.
Where had my coat gone?
I got dressed as quick as I could, before hurrying over to Nathan and placing a hand on his chest. "Nate?" I whispered. "Look at me."
Slowly, his eyes found mine again, and a familiar sense of dread washed over me. We had been here, in this same position, not too long ago. The blue spark in his eyes had flattened and turned dull.
I could sense him folding into himself. I've only ever seen that look once.
His mouth flattened into a thin line. "Daddy's home."
"—how dare you just barge in here and demand we do everything you want?" A voice with a French tilt spat out. Vera. I winced and held even tighter onto Nate's arm. His arm had gone completely rigid. We both were hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, watching the scene as it unfolded in front of us.
I have to admit – as much as I'd heard about Mr. Ericson, I had never seen him before.
It was strange to think that despite being the billion-dollar big shot husband to Nathan's mother, and father to all of her children, there wasn't a single photograph of him anywhere. Not even in his own house.
Seeing him now, in that moment, left no seed of doubt in my mind. This man was intimidating. And on a whole different league of scary.
His hair was a startling silver, cropped and shaved very close to his head. A gray trimmed stubble covered most of his cheek and sideburns, pointing towards a short beard. The black suit he wore had been tailored to perfection. He was a tall, cold, imposing figure – dominating over Vera even while she held her own. Sinister.
"This is my house," he seethed. The tone and inflection of his voice made the hair on my arms stand up. Something about it was just... wrong. "My great-grandfather built it with his bare hands. I am allowed to come home to it whenever it damn well suits me!"
His eyes were blue. I realized with a start – those were Nathan's eyes. Yet something about the way his eyes were probing at Vera, almost seeing through her, made me shudder. It felt too much like she had been stripped naked and put under a microscope.
"You always come and go and do whatever you please, don't you?" Vera fired back, stabbing a finger to his chest. I winced. They still hadn't noticed our presence. "Because everything you touch you think is some God-given fucking birthright. Where are your lawyers hiding, huh? And why haven't you signed the divorce papers? For the past few months, you might as well have just disappeared off the face of the earth! I haven't heard a word from you – and now James has had to piece together all of your bullshit while you've been gone—"
"Don't you play the victim when you know exactly what it is I've been doing!" he barked. His voice was so powerful, so harsh, that it carried and resounded across the large open space. I nearly jumped out of my skin. Alfred almost crackled with tension – his hands, which had been twitching erratically, were now clenched into a fist. Wanting and needing to give in to some dark and violent urge.
Part of me wanted to get as far away as possible. Nathan's grip on my hand started to become painful. Alfred continued. "I won't tell you again. I'm doing everything I can to restore our family name, to bring back what was once ours."
"What was once ours? Nobody's taken anything from us except you! Why is it that you can't see? All the money is gone because you've drunk and snorted and squandered every cent!" Vera's face was so pained and frustrated that her voice was verging on near-hysterical. Her wounded brown eyes told me everything I could know – that she had been teetering at her wits end for a very long time. "This is your fault, Alfred! Not ours. Yet we suffer for all the sins you commit, and you walk away scot-free. Pretending it's everybody else's fault, while you're fucking everything out there with a hole between its legs."
"After everything I've done for you – for you and those brats – you have no right at all to speak to me like that, Vera—"
"Get out."
It was neither of them who had spoken. Nathan had opened his mouth. His tone was cold and deadly – a mirror of his father's. "Get out of this house."
It was then that they registered our presence, and our appearance. Alfred's mood suddenly and completely changed – he now regarded his son with fond surprise, like that for an old friend. "Nathaniel – there he is! My son. It's been simply too long."
I blinked. His change in temperament and tone had been so instant that my mind was left reeling. How did he do that? My palms were sweating.
That's when he turned to me.
And there it was – that sinking feeling of dread. Like I'd been finally caught. Fight or flight. It took every fiber of self-control I possessed in my body not to run.
No. This is bad.
His eyes pierced and cut through me, right through my blood and flesh and bones and into my very soul. I'd never been superstitious, but in that moment I knew something was very wrong. I wasn't supposed to be there. My insides were screaming that something, and that this someone, was a force of evil.
His lips curled into a tight smile. A false display of friendliness. "Well, well. I've known quiet a lot about you for some time, dear Jesabel." His voice was an icy disaster waiting to happen. "It's a pleasure for us to finally meet."
He knows who I am.
"Get away from her, you fuck," Nathan hissed between his teeth. He moved as if to block me from his father's path of destruction. "You sick fucking bastard. If you ever lay a hand on her—"
Alfred laughed, and it was anything but sincere. "Vera's tongue spins its tales from far and wide. You really do think the worst of me – don't you, son? That I'd want to lay a hand on this young lady?"
"I wouldn't put it past you," Nathan spat. My blood ran cold.
What?
"Stop it, Alfred. You're terrifying her," Vera snapped. His attention was lifted from me, and I sagged against Nathan in relief. Cold sweat trickled down my spine, seeping through my clothes.
Vera pointed one perfectly manicured finger to the large wooden doors. I could see her body quivering with rage. "That's quite enough. Nathan's right – I want you out of here. Right now." Her seething look was harder than steel. "And until you've signed those papers, don't even think about coming back."
Vera's cutting words had not affected him in the slightest. He seemed almost cheerful in his self-satisfaction, like some cryptic unfinished business had been done. His eyes snaked towards me once again, only momentarily. And then to the floor beside me – where my jacket had been tossed and discarded. From the night before. Nathan's whole body became rigid, aching for a fight.
"Don't worry, Vera darling," he smiled, looking as carefree as any man could. There was that mood swing again – sharp and unexpected. "I've found what I came here to find."
Without another word, he turned sharply in his black Italian shoes, and headed straight for the door. "Give James my regards," he called as the doors shut. I involuntarily slid down onto the floor, unable to hold my legs up any longer.
What had he come here to find? Or rather – whom?