Page 95 of His To Unravel
Instead, I let the moment pass, tucking the questions away for later.
Nathaniel’s eyes meet mine, softening slightly as if relieved by my silence.
“This way,” he says, his voice returning to its usual steadiness as he gestures further down the hall.
As we walk, I can’t help but glance back one last time, the image of Nathaniel and his twin hovering at the forefront of my thoughts.
By the time we reach the dining room, Nathaniel glances at his watch, his thumb brushing absently over the edge of the cufflink on his sleeve.
“They’ll be down soon,” he murmurs.
I inhale quietly, smoothing my hands down the front of my dress as if the simple motion can settle the unease pressing at the edges of my mind.
Nathaniel’s father enters the room without announcement, yet his presence fills the space.
Tall, with broad shoulders and a frame that demands attention, Charles Caldwell carries himself like a man of authority. The resemblance to Nathaniel is chilling—same sharp cheekbones, same aristocratic bearing. Both devastatingly handsome. But where Nathaniel is cool and intense, Charles is cold and immovable.
I haven’t given much thought to Nathaniel’s genetics before, but seeing his parents makes it clear. Between his father’s commanding stature and his mother’s timeless elegance, it’s as though Nathaniel’s refined beauty was crafted with the same meticulousness that seems to shape every corner of this house.
Charles’s eyes flick to me briefly before settling on Nathaniel with a reserved nod. His expression doesn’t soften, but there is familiarity in the way he regards his son, like a man acknowledging a reflection he doesn’t entirely know what to make of.
“Good evening, Father,” Nathaniel says evenly.
Charles inclines his head in return. “Son.”
There is no embrace, no familial affection. Just polite acknowledgment—two figures standing on the same plane but separated by something I can’t quite name.
Nathaniel guides me forward with his hand on my back.
“Father, this is Olivia.”
Charles’s gaze slides to me, and I immediately feel as though I am being studied—not unkindly, but thoroughly, like he is trying to parse out the riddle of how I came to be in his son’s life. His handshake is firm but brief, cool fingers brushing mine before withdrawing.
“Welcome, Olivia. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. It’s not every day Nathaniel changes course, and I was curious to meet the woman responsible.”
I smile politely, though his words leave me wondering what exactly Nathaniel has ‘changed course’ from. Before I can dwell on it, Nathaniel speaks.
“Olivia brought something for you,” he says, cutting in smoothly.
Suddenly aware of the box of truffles in my hand, I step forward, feeling slightly self-conscious under Charles’s unflinching gaze.
“Nathaniel mentioned you have a sweet tooth,” I say, offering the gift. “So I thought… Well, I hope you enjoy them.”
Charles arches a brow, glancing at Nathaniel as if mildly impressed. “Truffles?” He accepts the box, weighing it lightly before handing it to Roger, the butler who stands at attention nearby. “That was very kind of you. We’ll be sure to enjoy them with dessert tonight.”
From the doorway, Renée chimes in. “She brought me the loveliest bouquet of flowers too. Thoughtful, isn’t she?”
Charles’s gaze lingers on me a moment longer. “It seems you’ve made quite the impression.”
Renée gestures toward the table. “Shall we?”
Nathaniel pulls out my chair as we settle at the long dining table, his hand brushing against mine beneath the linen. The unspoken connection soothes me.
The dinner conversation is light at first. Renée leads with anecdotes about family traditions, her warmth filtering into the space like sunlight breaking through clouds.
But it doesn’t last long.
Eventually, Charles turns his attention to Nathaniel, the cutlery soft against porcelain as he slices into his filet.
