Chapter 12

Nicholas Shaw stood behind me, his body tense, both of his hands still clenched tightly at his sides.

"Don't. Ever. Touch. Her. Again." he repeated towards Oliver, who was still sprawled on the sidewalk.

I couldn't see his expression right now because he had his back to me, but his voice alone was enough to represent his current mood. Suddenly, he turned to me. I thought I would see his black eyes and fangs like last night, but no. He hadn't changed since last night; it's just that his old blue eyes seemed darker now.

His gaze focused on my right wrist, slightly bruised. He closed his eyes, furrowing his brow, and took a deep breath before opening them again.

Then I realized he was trying to control his anger. His black suit looked a bit disheveled, as if he had just run, and so did his brown hair.

"What—what are you doing here?" I asked, my voice sounding weak. I was still surprised by his sudden appearance. People slowed down to watch as they passed us.

"Give me 10 seconds," he muttered with a still angry tone, then took a deep breath again while his old blue eyes stared intently at my face.

My heart was pounding hard in my chest. Not because I was afraid, but because he was here, looking disheveled and incredibly handsome despite the clear anger on his face.

I must be crazy.

"So, this is the guy, Ells?" Oliver mumbled as he tried to stand, straightening his jacket briefly, then glared at me angrily. Blood was flowing from his nose and the corner of his mouth.

"So, this is the man who made you leave me, huh? I didn't think you'd be so easily replaced." he continued.

I looked at Oliver in disbelief, did he hit his head when he fell?

Nicholas moved to approach him again, but I pulled his arm to stop him. I walked quickly towards Oliver, and a moment later, my clenched right hand landed on his nose. He cursed loudly, holding his nose with both hands. I had never hit anyone in my life before, so I didn't know that hitting someone could also hurt. At least for my hand.

I still stared at Oliver, who was hunched over while holding his nose, when suddenly Eric appeared by my side.

"Eric, please take Mr. Wright back to his office, or to the hospital. Wherever he wants." Mr. Shaw murmured, touching my shoulder to divert my attention from Oliver.

"We need to talk." he said to me.

I looked at him, shaking my head, "There's nothing we need to talk about, Mr. Shaw. I have to get back to the office." I replied as I walked away. But just one step and his hand moved to grab my arm, making me turn back to him.

"Oh, there's a lot we need to talk about, Miss Heather." he said, squeezing my wrist carefully because it was bruised.

Then he leaned in, whispering in my ear, "Of course, we need to talk about it. You know what I want, Eleanor."

I swallowed my saliva when I heard his whisper in my ear. His voice was full of certainty, as if he knew he would definitely get what he wanted.

The scent of his aftershave filled my senses, making it hard for me to think for a few seconds. Of course, I still remembered very clearly what he wanted.

"I— I have to get back to the office. Good afternoon, Mr. Shaw." I mumbled, pulling myself away from him, and this time he didn't stop me.

I walked quite far before curiosity made me turn back. And he was still standing there, still staring at me with his brilliant blue eyes.

Awkwardly, I continued my steps back to the office.

***

When I returned to the office, Oliver was not at his desk. In fact, he didn't show up until the end of the workday. For a moment, I thought something bad had happened to him, but I overheard Mr. Newman talking to him on the phone before I left. I heard the words 'accident' and 'hospital' in their phone conversation.

Well, at least he's still alive.

The elevator I took descended from the 5th floor of our office to the lobby. My stomach felt a bit sore since this afternoon because I hadn't eaten anything since last night.

Lana had already gone home when I returned to our apartment. I heard her talking to someone when I entered our apartment.

"Lana?" I called while walking towards the kitchen, the smell of pasta sauce filling our apartment. Lana had never cooked during all this time.

"Ella, I almost thought you were going to work overtime again." She appeared from the kitchen door, smiling broadly. "Well, we have a guest."

"Oh? Who?" I asked as I walked towards my room to put my bag down, but my steps stopped when one corner of my eye caught someone standing in our kitchen.

"Mr. Shaw?" I asked in surprise. For a moment, my surprise turned into anger. "What is he doing here?"

"I accidentally met him on the street. So we planned to have dinner, but I couldn't find the restaurant I wanted, so he offered to cook. Do you know Nicholas Shaw can cook?" she whispered, winking at me.

She looked at my face for a moment, and then her smile vanished, "Ella, what's wrong?"

I stared at Mr. Shaw, who was cutting something. He was wearing an apron and stood with his back to us, his shirt sleeves folded up to his elbows. It seemed like he didn't realize my presence, or he pretended not to.

"Nothing, of course not." I mumbled, throwing my bag onto the nearest sofa and entering the kitchen.

Finally, he turned to look at me, a small smile appearing on his face. "Miss Heather, I hope you don't mind me using your kitchen?"

I crossed my arms over my chest. Lana stood next to me, still smiling widely.

"No, of course not." I muttered while looking at him with a what-are-you-doing-here expression. He just responded by raising one eyebrow slightly before returning to his work, seemingly unfazed.

"Mr. Shaw, I always thought you were a very busy person..." Lana said as she poured a glass of white wine for me, hers already halfway finished. Her cheeks were slightly flushed as she spoke.

"Actually, this is my last day in San Francisco; tomorrow, I have to go back to Manhattan. My vacation is over." He glanced at Lana briefly as he spoke. He looked different from the Nicholas Shaw I met while working in Manhattan. In front of Lana, he looked relaxed. There was no cold and stiff expression that he usually showed to people.

How many personalities does he have?

"Holiday? In San Francisco? But there's nothing interesting here, Mr. Shaw." Lana replied with a small laugh. She took her wine glass and sipped a bit. I didn't know which glass this was for her; she already seemed a bit flushed.

"Oh, there are plenty of interesting things in San Francisco, Miss Morrel." His voice changed to a deeper tone, and I felt my face heating up. But Lana didn't notice the changed atmosphere between us; she continued with her questions, "So where did you two go last night? Ella didn't tell me."

I almost choked on the wine I was sipping. Nicholas remained silent for a moment before answering, "I took Miss Heather to my friend's house for dinner."

"But Ella came home too early, around 9 last night. I thought your dinner might have been a disaster." Lana laughed again. "I even thought your dinner last night was a mess."

Oh, Lana.

"Actually, your guess is correct, Miss Morrel. Last night's dinner was a complete mess. Miss Heather didn't even have a chance to eat at all." He answered casually.

I froze in my place, and Lana stopped sipping her wine. She looked at both of us alternately, "What?"

"Miss Heather came home before we had a chance to have dinner." Mr. Shaw stopped what he was doing and turned to face us, leaning against the kitchen counter. "Lana, I need you to focus on me." He looked directly into Lana's eyes. "I want you to go back to your room and leave when I'm gone. And you'll forget all our conversation tonight."

Lana stared at him with empty eyes. She placed her wine glass down and walked out of the kitchen without a single protest. No words, no eye contact with me.

"What—?" I started to say.

"Eleanor," he interrupted, leaning back in his chair. I felt a strange sensation in my stomach when he called my name.

"I didn't hurt her." he said, his expression becoming serious.

"What did you do to her?" I took a few steps back from my previous position.

"I just made her forget a little." He murmured, leaning his hands on the counter. He didn't attempt to get closer to me, perhaps knowing I would run if he moved even a little.

"Why?"

"Lana?" I called a bit louder, hoping she would come back.

Mr. Shaw pulled the corners of his lips down, "I didn't hurt her, Eleanor."

"What did you do to her?" I repeated, taking a few more steps back.

"I just made her forget a little." He mumbled, sliding his hands into his pants pockets. "I didn't hurt her, Eleanor."

"Why?" My voice started to sound a bit hysterical.

He took a deep breath before speaking, "Because we need to talk, Eleanor. I tried to do it the normal way this afternoon, but you refused. And I really have to go back to Manhattan tomorrow."

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out.

He observed my expression, his brow slightly furrowed. "I always get what I want... Eleanor." Suddenly, he took a plate and filled it with freshly cooked spaghetti, pouring Bolognese sauce and cheddar cheese on top.

"But first, you need to eat. You look a bit pale since this afternoon." He placed the plate of spaghetti on the dining table and sat across from it.

I looked at him hesitantly. Nicholas hadn't diverted his attention from me while I was eating.

"When was the last time you ate?" He asked, slightly furrowing his brow. I took a fork without answering his question and started eating. The soft Bolognese with tomatoes and minced meat kept me busy for a few minutes. He could really cook. Nicholas still didn't divert his attention while I was eating.

"Um, aren't you eating?" I asked.

He shook his head, "Miss Morrel and I already had dinner last night."

"But—"

"I erased her memory a bit. We had dinner together. I needed a reason to meet you, so I made her invite me to your apartment." He replied, shrugging as if what he just said was not a big deal.

I placed my fork down and drank the remaining wine in my glass until it was empty. "If I give you what you want, will you stop doing things like this?" I asked, my heart pounding in my chest.

Nicholas looked at me and raised one eyebrow slightly, "Of course. I would do anything for that, Eleanor." His two blue eyes stared at me with an intensity that made the hairs on my back stand.

I swallowed my saliva to moisten my dry throat, then nodded slightly without looking away from him. "You... want to do it now?"

The small smile disappeared quickly, replaced by a confused expression. "What are you talking about?"

"You want—You want my blood... right?" I tried to show the bravest face I could muster, even though my heart was pounding loudly in my chest.

He just stared at me without expression for a few seconds.

"But you have to promise me that after this, you won't bother me again. Or Lana." I added quickly.

He blinked his eyes slowly, as if trying to digest what he had just heard. His hands moved to unbutton the top button of his blue shirt, and he didn't look away from me while doing so. Then his hands rubbed his jaw. For a moment, just a fraction of a second, my hands almost moved by themselves to follow what he was doing.

"Do you think I would—?" He stopped his sentence to laugh, but it wasn't the pleasant kind of laughter. "This is all because of Greg. That bastard." He muttered. One of his hands ran through his hair with frustration.

"Mr. Shaw—"

"Eleanor." He cut me off, leaning against the back of the chair. My stomach felt strange when he called my name.

"I don't want your blood. I want you."

I opened my mouth to reply, but he raised his hand slightly to stop me. "I want to be the first person you meet when you need something. I just want... you." He said slowly, observing the expression on my face.

"Eleanor, I like you."

We locked eyes for a long time before I finally broke the silence, "What?"