10

Nathan’s POV

The familiar scent of cedar and cool marble greeted me the second I stepped into the penthouse. Everything was pristine,just the way I left it. Except now, Ivy lived here.

I loosened my tie and glanced around, half-expecting her to appear. Nothing.

I cleared my throat, casually. “Theresa.”

She emerged from the hallway with her ever composed smile. “Sir, welcome back.”

I nodded once. “Inform Ivy that I’m home.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, then disappeared down the hallway.

A beat later, she returned.

“She said… okay.”

I paused mid-step. “Okay?”

Theresa’s expression didn’t waver. “Yes, sir.”

I looked away quickly, but not before Desmond who had followed me inside caught the flicker of something in my face.

Amusement danced in his eyes.

“What?” I asked, coolly.

“Nothing,” he said, lips twitching like he was holding back a laugh.

I rolled my eyes, adjusted my cuff, and forced nonchalance back into my voice. “I don’t care if she welcomes me or not.”

“Of course not,” Desmond murmured with mock sincerity.

I shot him a glare and turned back to Theresa. “Where is she?”

“In the kitchen, sir.”

I raised a brow. “Oh. I’m… thirsty. I’ll just grab a glass of water.”

“I can get it for you,” Theresa said quickly, already taking a step.

“No,” I said too fast. Then coughed to cover it. “I… need the walk.”

Desmond turned away to hide his smirk.

I ignored him.

I wasn’t going there because I missed her. Or because I half-expected her to run to the door, like some obedient wife in a drama. This was just about water. Hydration. That’s it.

Right.

I padded toward the kitchen, composing myself with every step.

Just water.

But the moment I reached the doorway… I forgot what thirst even was.

Ivy stood by the counter, her back to me, barefoot and completely at ease like she’d been living here forever. But what made me pause...

She was wearing my shirt.

One of the crisp white ones from my closet, the kind I usually wore to board meetings and power lunches. But on her?

It looked… soft.

Comfortable.

The first two buttons were undone, revealing a teasing glimpse of her collarbone and just a hint more. The shirt was oversized, almost swallowing her whole, but somehow that made it worse. Her hair was up in a messy twist, a few strands falling down her neck.

She wasn’t even trying. And still…

I forgot why I’d come here.

I stood there longer than I should’ve, eyes trailing from her bare legs to the way her fingers tapped lightly on the counter, like she was humming to herself.

I cleared my throat.

Her head turned slightly, just enough for me to see her profile.

“Welcome,” she said calmly, like I’d just come in from the garden. Not from a different country.

She turned to leave.

But I wasn’t done.

I stepped forward subtly, smoothly and somehow ended up standing right in front of her.

She didn’t notice in time.

Her feet tangled with mine, and the next thing I knew, she stumbled right into me.

I caught her.

Of course I did.

Her hands landed on my chest to steady herself, and her eyes wide, startled met mine.

Time stilled.

I could smell the faint scent of vanilla on her skin.

Her lips parted like she was about to speak, but no words came out.

I was still holding her.

I didn’t move.

Neither did she.

My hand was still around her waist, her palm still pressed to my chest. She looked up at me like she couldn’t decide whether to breathe or bolt. I couldn’t decide either.

Her lips parted again. Maybe she was going to say my name. Maybe she wasn’t.

Then....

Knock knock.

“Sir?” Desmond’s voice sliced through the moment like a cold knife. “Amy’s on the phone. She says it’s urgent.”

Ivy pulled back like I’d electrocuted her. The warmth between us disappeared so fast, it felt like a slap.

I stepped back, jaw tightening.

Of course.

Amy.

I turned just enough to call back, “Tell her I’ll call back.”

A pause.

“She said it’s about the foundation gala report and the Paris team’s revisions. She insists it can’t wait.”

Ivy had already slipped past me, brushing against my arm like I didn’t exist, heading toward the hallway without another word.

My hands curled into fists.

Desmond, still behind the door, said nothing. But I could practically hear his smirk through the wood.

“Put her through,” I muttered.

“Yes, sir,” Desmond replied, and walked off.

I looked down at the empty space in front of me, where Ivy had just stood.

For one insane second, I thought about following her.

But instead?

I turned away and walked toward my study.

Back to work.

Back to Amy.

Back to pretending none of this was getting under my skin.

Ivy's pov

I practically flew out of the kitchen, the soles of my feet nearly slipping on the tile floor.

What Was That?

One second I was reaching for the fridge, the next Nathan Blake,my billionaire, contract husband—was pressing me up against the counter like we were the next steamy plot twist in a N*****x series.

And the worst part?

I didn’t hate it.

In fact, my heart was still pounding like a bass drum under my borrowed shirt,his shirt, by the way,and I was pretty sure my brain had short-circuited.

What was I thinking?

No, scratch that,why was I thinking anything?

This was a contract. An arrangement. An agreement bound by terms and conditions. Not feelings. Not chemistry. Not the kind of tension that made you want to tug someone closer just to feel the truth in their silence.

I leaned against the wall outside the kitchen, pressing the heel of my hand to my chest like it could force my heartbeat back to normal.

Then I heard it.

Desmond’s voice.

Amy’s name.

My fingers curled into the fabric of the shirt. His shirt. The same man who, not 48 hours ago, had another woman melting into his lap like he was home and heaven all at once.

And I… I was just a clause in a deal. A placeholder.

I pushed off the wall and walked straight to my room,not our room, thank you very much slamming the door gently behind me before the storm inside exploded.

Fine. Let him take Amy’s call.

Let him go back to pretending I was invisible.

Because the moment I forgot that, I’d start hoping for more.

And the last thing a girl like me should do… is fall for a man like Nathan Blake.