Page 58 of His To Unravel
He’s silent for a moment, his gaze unwavering, as if he’s searching for something deeper in my response. “What was it, then?” he presses gently. “With them…what were you looking for?”
I take a breath, letting my fingers trail down to his chest, my mind drifting to memories that feel distant, faded with time. “Recognition, I guess. Validation,” I admit, the words quiet, almost ashamed. “I think I just wanted someone to…see me. To understand me.”
Nathaniel’s fingers curl around mine. “And did they?” There’s an edge to his tone, his jaw tight, as if the thought alone stirs something dark and simmering within him.
“No,” I reply, my voice soft but certain. “They never made me feel…like I was enough. Not like you do.” I meet his gaze, hoping he sees the sincerity there, that he feels the truth of my words.
His face softens, a glimmer of relief mingling with a trace of uncertainty. “I don’t want to be one of them,” he decides, his hand tightening around mine. “I want to be…unforgettable to you.”
My heart aches at the vulnerability in his words, an almost desperate need to not only be wanted, butneededin return. I never thought I’d see this side of him—the part that’s driven not by dominance but by something more fragile, something almost tender.
“You already are,” I whisper, reaching up to brush the hair from his forehead. “Nathaniel… No one else has ever come close to making me feel the way you do. You’re everything I didn’t know I needed.”
He sighs in relief and leans into my touch, his eyes darkening with that familiar, unyielding intensity. But there’s a softness there too, a rare vulnerability that makes me feel like I’m gaining access to a part of him he doesn’t often reveal. It’s strange—seeing him this way only makes me fall harder, makes me want to reassure him even more, despite the warnings that whisper in the back of my mind.
“I don’t ever want to lose you, Olivia,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, as if the words are meant for him as much as for me.
“I’m right here,” I assure him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I’m not going anywhere.”
His arms tighten around me, pulling me closer, and for a moment, I’m drowning in him, lost in the intensity of his hold. There’s strength in his embrace, a possessive warmth that makes me feel safe, cherished, as if nothing in the world could ever touch me as long as he’s here.
As we lie there, his hand stroking my back in soothing circles, I realize that I’ve crossed a line, taken steps I can’t retrace even if I tried. Whatever boundaries once existed between us have dissolved, and part of me doesn’t even want them back.
There’s a dangerous exhilaration in the way he makes me feel, the way he sees me, as if I’m the only thing that matters in his world.
And despite the warnings tucked in the shadows, I close my eyes and surrender anyway, allowing myself to fall deeper into the unknown.
SEVENTEEN
nathaniel
The penthouse is drapedin a haunting quiet, a stillness that magnifies every little sound, every shifting shadow. Moonlight filters through the window, casting silver bars across the bed where Olivia sleeps, her form soft and vulnerable in the darkness.
She rests peacefully—blissfully unaware of the storm churning within me, of the deliberate steps I’m taking to ensure she remains mine.
I move silently, slipping her phone from the edge of the bedside table, my fingers steady as I cradle the device. With the same care a surgeon might wield, I unlock and connect it to a discreet tool I procured for moments such as this, where desperate measures are required.
Within minutes, the cloning process begins.
Specialized software embeds itself into her phone’s system, granting me real-time access to every message, every call, every trace of her digital footprint. The process is seamless, invisible—a hidden tether ensuring I remain a step ahead.
It’s necessary, I remind myself, eyes shifting briefly to the delicate diamond at her throat, glinting softlyin the dark.
That necklace was my first safeguard, a promise and a silent marker of my presence at all times. But it’s no longer enough.
The memory of her breezy laughter echoes in my mind, the way she dismissed the idea of moving in with me like it was an absurd notion. A small slight, yes, but the rejection stings, creating a hairline fracture in the illusion of security I’ve been carefully constructing.
My eyes drift to her, tracing the soft rise and fall of her breathing, the way her lashes cast faint shadows across her cheeks. She looks ethereal like this, as if no one else has ever had her, not like this. As though she’s always belonged here, in this space I’ve created for her.
But I know better.
I know the past lovers she thoughtlessly dismisses, the fragmented memories of them she likely carries in some dusty corner of her mind. And that knowledge unsettles me.
It’s not enough to simply have her. I need to erase any lingering imprint, any ghost of anyone else. She deserves better—andIwill be the only one she remembers.
As the data syncs, my mind wanders, consumed by a single question:How many layers of assurance will it take before I can close my eyes without worrying that she’ll slip through my fingers?
It’s irrational, this gnawing hunger for control, and I hate myself for the weakness it reveals. But even in acknowledging it, I know I’d make the same choice again. Again and again, for as long as it takes to quell the fear thrumming like a relentless undercurrent beneath my skin.
