Page 80 of His To Unravel
“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice shaky. “I was so nervous.”
“You didn’t have to be,” he murmurs, his hands gently running along my back. “You’re brilliant. They’d be fools not to see it.”
His faith in me is overwhelming, like standing too close to the sun. But before I can let myself fully bask in the glow of his reassurance, he says, “Castor & Wyatt’s headquarters is in Manhattan, isn’t it?”
The question lands with precision, like he’s been waiting to ask it. His tone is easy—too easy—but there’s something beneath it. Hunger. Possession dressed as possibility.
“This could be perfect,” he continues, his thumb stroking along my jaw. “You’d be incredible there. And…we’d be together.”
His eyes search mine, full of that unrelenting intensity that I’m still learning to navigate. The idea clearly delights him—it’s written all over his face. Like he’s already decided how the pieces should fall, and all that’s left is for me to sayyes.
And in that moment, I wish I could mirror his confidence, let his certainty sweep me away.
Instead, a pang of hesitation tugs at me, sharp and unexpected. I force a small smile, nodding as I try to steady my voice. “It’s an incredible opportunity,” I say instead, letting the words hang there without offering more.
What I don’t tell him—what I can’t bring myself to admit—is that the placement I applied for isn’t at their headquarters. It’s overseas, in one of Castor & Wyatt’s international offices. London. Singapore. Dubai. Places far from here, far from Halford, and far from this life I’m building with Nathaniel.
I’m not sure why I don’t tell him.
Maybe it’s self-preservation, a quiet assertion of the independence I’m still clinging to, even as I feel myself falling deeper into him. Or maybe it’s fear—fear of disappointing him, of breaking the fragile balance we’ve found.
Nathaniel is still beaming at me, and I feel a fresh wave of guilt. Here he is, framing this as a dream for both of us—a way to merge our futures. And yet I’m holding onto a piece of myself I’m not ready to give him.
I rest my head on his shoulder, letting the familiar steadiness of him ease the knot in my chest.
“Thank you,” I repeat, my voice quieter this time. “For believing in me.”
“Always,” he replies without hesitation, his arm tightening around me. “You deserve this, Olivia. You deserve everything.”
His words, so full of conviction, settle over me like a blanket, and for a moment, I let myself imagine it—Castor & Wyatt in Manhattan, with Nathaniel at my side. A life where I don’t have to choose, where everything fits perfectly together.
But deep down, I know it isn’t that simple. There’s still a small, stubborn part of me that needs to prove I can stand on my own.That I can carve out a path for myself, even if it means stepping away from the safety of what Nathaniel offers.
For now, though, I choose to let myself stay in this moment—in his arms, in his belief, in the promise of everything he wants for us.
The future can wait just a little longer.
Space Cowboy isalive with post-finals energy—clinking glasses, low golden light, and the pulse of music vibrating through the floorboards. Laughter ripples through our group as Carolyn recounts one of her exam blunders, grinning as she lifts her drink in a mock toast to academic mediocrity while Sophie pretends to be scandalized.
I smile, leaning into Nathaniel’s side. His arm drapes casually around the back of my chair, his fingers occasionally brushing against my shoulder in a way that sends pleasant shivers down my spine. I feel light tonight. After the whirlwind of finals and the emotional intensity of the past few weeks, it’s refreshing to just…exist in the moment.
Carolyn had insisted that Nathaniel join us. “We want to get to know the man who’s been keeping you so busy,” Carolyn had teased earlier, winking. Nathaniel agreed with a relaxed smile and that infuriating ease of his, unfazed at the prospect of being further scrutinized by my friends.
Landon’s presence, however, shadows the evening. He stands at the far end of the bar, talking to a couple of our mutual friends, but his gaze keeps straying to me—furtive, cautious—like he’s assessing how far he can push before incurring Nathaniel’s wrath.
My stomach knots at the sight. He’s been keeping his distance since that night, and I’ve let him. Whatever we were before, I’m not sure we are anymore.
Beside me, Nathaniel’s fingers tighten around mine possessively. I glance at him and catch the way his eyes narrow, how his knuckles flex like he’s already imagined dragging Landon out by the throat. His control isn’t calm. It’s coiled.
And yet, with Nathaniel by my side, I don’t feel the gnawing anxiety I might have otherwise. His presence is settling.
“Dance with me,” Nathaniel murmurs, his lips brushing my ear.
I glance at him, my heart skipping at the tenderness in his expression. “You didn’t strike me as much of a dancer,” I tease.
“For you, I’ll learn.”
He pulls me up before I can argue, guiding me onto the dance floor. The music shifts—slow, sultry, full of heat. His hand finds my waist, drawing me closer until there’s barely a sliver of space between us.
