Page 49 of His To Unravel
“Stay away from her. This is your only warning,” Nathaniel says, the venom in his voice unmistakable.
Landon laughs bitterly. “Enjoy it while it lasts, Caldwell. You’ll be old news by finals.”
Not taking the bait, Nathaniel shakes his head before roughly releasing Landon. He turns back to me, his eyes still burning, but with something softer flickering underneath.
Taking my hand, he leads me outside, where the cool night air instantly chills my flushed skin. The street is quiet, the muffled sounds of the bar fading behind us. I feel the weight of what just happened settle over me, but Nathaniel’s presence, solid and unwavering beside me, stills the whirlwind of emotions.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asks, his voice softened now, the edges of his earlier fury smoothed out.
I nod, unable to find words. He watches me for a moment longer, his hand resting at the small of my back with a touch that is both steadying and possessive.
“Let’s go,” he says, guiding me to his Aston Martin, releasing my hand only long enough to open the passenger door.
As we pull away, we leave the chaos behind us and step into the shadowed stillness of the night.
The glow of passing streetlights flicker across the interior of Nathaniel’s car, casting fleeting patterns over the dashboard and tracing the hard lines of his profile. The silence between us is thick, punctuated only by the rhythmic purr of the engine and the occasional rustle as I shift in my seat.
The chaotic scene plays on a loop in my mind—Landon’s grip, the fear tightening in my chest, the relief of Nathaniel’s presence. Then, the expressions on my friends’ faces, the hush that followed our exit. I can’t help but wonder now what this means for our social circle moving forward…
My pulse has finally begun to slow, the initial adrenaline bleeding away and leaving behind an aching exhaustion. I glance at Nathaniel, the set of his jaw still rigid as he focuses on the road. I lean slightly in his direction, seeking reassurance in the closeness.
“I’m sorry,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. It feels strange to speak, as if breaking a spell.
His eyes flick toward me, blue and intent, before returning to the road. “For what?”
“For putting myself in that situation,” I admit, the guilt prickling at the edges of my mind. It’s irrational, I know—Landon’s actions are his own, not mine—but the feeling persists.
Nathaniel’s grip tightens on the steering wheel, the leather creaking under the pressure. “You have nothing to apologize for,” he says firmly. “He put his hands on you, and I had to correct him. I’ll never let anything happen to you.”
Warmth unfurls in my chest at the certainty in his voice, displacing some of the unease that lingers. His protectiveness, while intense, is a comfort.
I turn toward him slightly, watching the lines of his face in profile—the tension, the control. How easily he snapped into violence, and how calmly he came back from it. A shiver runsthrough me, an unsettling mix of gratitude and something that feels a lot like dependence.
As the cityscape shifts to quieter, more refined streets, I feel a sense of anticipation curl low in my stomach. The events of the night seem to recede slightly, replaced by an awareness of where we are heading—and what might come next. I’ve never been to Nathaniel’s apartment, but he told me once it wasn’t far from campus, tucked away in one of the older, quieter neighborhoods. And now, as he takes a familiar left and my pulse quickens, I just know.
Nathaniel’s hand slips from the wheel and finds mine, giving a reassuring squeeze. We pull up to his apartment building, the tall structure looming against the inky sky. Nathaniel kills the engine and turns to me fully, his gaze searching mine with an intensity that makes my heart stutter. His fingers linger on my hand, thumb brushing over my knuckles in a silent promise.
“Come inside,” he says, the words simple but heavy with unspoken meaning.
I feel the tension in my shoulders release as I step out of the car. The bar, Landon, the chaos—all of it seems to melt away, replaced by the certainty of Nathaniel’s presence as he leads me inside, his hand never leaving mine.
FIFTEEN
nathaniel
The door clicks shutbehind us, the sound reverberating through the silence of my penthouse, final and absolute. I can still hear the hum of the city below—muted car horns, distant laughter, the pulse of life that never ceases. Yet here, in the insulated quiet, the only thing that matters is Olivia.
She stands just inside the doorway, shoulders drawn and arms crossed, her body wound tight like a spring.
Her presence fills the room, even in her subdued state. A tremor runs through her, barely perceptible, but I catch it, of course. I catch everything. The smudge of mascara beneath her eyes, the tension radiating off her.
My fury, still fresh and acrid in my chest, flares anew.
But the rage was just the tail end of it. What came before was craving. That increasingly relentless need to be close to her.
She picked up my call hours ago, all soft laughter and easy charm—but it was the sight of her that stayed with me. That maroon dress, hugging every curve, slit high like a dare—etched itself into my mind and refused to let go.
She hadn’t mentioned where she was going tonight, but I’m sure it just slipped her mind. Or maybe she didn’t think it wasimportant. I don’t blame her for that, at least not out loud. After all, I don’t expect her to tell me everything…at leastnot yet.
