Page 67 of His To Unravel
I force myself to hold back. A direct confrontation would only create more resistance, and I can’t allow that.
No, this will require a more methodical dismantling. If her family is pulling at her… I’ll sever that thread, delicately, before she even realizes it’s missing.
“You know,” I say slowly, letting my words sink in, “you don’t have to carry all those burdens on your own.”
She offers me a small smile, but it lacks itsusual warmth. “I know. Thank you,” she replies softly, although it’s obvious that she’s only saying that to placate me.
I lean in. “Olivia, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.” The words hold an edge, a promise of something deeper, more binding. “You only need to ask.”
She nods, but I can see that her walls are still up. I clench my jaw against the impulse to push harder.
Not yet. But Iwilltear down those walls, brick by brick.
Until there’s nothing standing between us.
Back at the penthouse,I stand by the windows, looking out over the Boston skyline, though my mind is miles away.
It’s still trapped in that cramped library room—trapped with the memory of Olivia’s guarded gaze, her tense shoulders, the way she so carefully, so deliberately withheld herself from me.
The image sears through me, igniting a slow, relentless frustration that refuses to burn out.
I can no longer deny it. I crave her submission in a way that’s almost visceral. The thought of her yielding to me, fully and without resistance, stirs something dark and unrelenting beneath my skin.
But another part—a small, infuriatingly vulnerable part—is terrified of her slipping beyond my grasp entirely.
It’s a maddening paradox: I want to possess her completely, yet I fear that my grip might stifle her, drive her away.
But is that fear even justified?
Olivia needs someone to anchor her. She might resist now, but deep down, I know she craves stability—stability only I can provide. She’s seen it in glimpses, experienced it in flashes of our time together, but it’s time for herto accept it fully.
I let out a slow breath, the air thick with the weight of my decision. If she can’t let herself lean into our relationship—intome—then it’s time for a push.
My mind begins to spin, piecing together the possibilities, the ways I can guide her, steer her into a deeper reliance on me. A quiet, potent thrill surges within, imagining her surrendering each part of herself to me.
She will choose me freely, or her will shall be bent until complete surrender is her only remaining option.
The line between gentle persuasion and absolute control is one I’m willing to walk, if only to ensure she remains mine.
TWENTY
olivia
I tightenthe scarf around my neck as I step out of my dorm, still rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
I’m greeted by the sight of Nathaniel standing on the sidewalk, holding two coffee cups in one hand and a paper bag in the other. His smile is radiant enough to rival the warmth of the day. My heart stutters at the sight.
His sharp jawline and striking blue eyes give him the kind of allure that could leave anyone breathless, but it isn’t just his appearance that steals the air from my lungs. He’s wearing a charcoal suit, the tailored lines impossibly sharp against the muted backdrop of late November. A dark overcoat is slung open, framing the crisp shirt beneath. It’s the first time I’ve seen him dressed like this—polished and devastating—and it does something to me.
He looks both powerful and elegant. Completely untouchable. And yet, the moment our gazes meet, his expression softens—like I’m the exception to whatever armor he puts on for the rest of the world.
“Good morning, Olivia,” he says as I approach, his voice warm with a tenderness that sinks straight through my defenses.
I smile up at him. “Good morning, Nate.”
He tilts his head, his grin turning playful. “Come here and give me a hug, will you? My hands are full.”
I chuckle softly, stepping into his outstretched arms without hesitation. The paper bag crinkles against my back as he holds me close, his chin resting on top of my head.
