Chapter 22

"Go?" I repeated in disbelief. He's asking me to leave?

"Or stay with me. Whatever your choice, you can't do it halfway. If you decide to leave, I'll make sure we never meet again. But if you choose to stay..." his voice deepened, "There's no turning back for you. You belong to me."

My heart pounded harder upon hearing his last words. He sounded dead serious as he said it. "What will happen if I stay?" I asked.

"You belong to me," he repeated, his tone slightly cold. "I will hunt down that woman, and I won't stop until I've killed her."

"Kill her?"

"I will eliminate anything that threatens what belongs to me, Eleanor," he replied seriously. "And if you belong to me, I will never let you go, even if you beg me to." He said before walking towards the door, "I'll give you a week."

His words echoed in my head even after he left the room. I understood the reason behind his cold attitude towards me. He didn't want to influence my decision, or more accurately... He didn't want me to regret it later.

Belonging to him. The word kept echoing in my head.

I dropped my head onto the pillow and stared at the dark ceiling of his room. An hour later, the sound of rustling trees in the wind and the rain outside slowly lulled me back to sleep.

***

Bright sunlight peeked through the curtains as I woke up, momentarily forgetting where I was. With a slight grogginess from just waking up, I glanced at the clock on the bedside table, indicating it was 11 in the morning.

How long did I sleep?

I stretched my body before getting out of bed. My throat felt dry; last night, I only managed to drink champagne at Christine's wedding reception.

I opened Nicholas's door and stepped out. I walked to his office, adjacent to mine, and opened the door, but Nicholas wasn't inside. I decided to return to my room, wash my face, and then go down to the kitchen.

It seemed that the electricity in the house was back on. A few steps before reaching the kitchen, I heard a very familiar voice coming from behind the kitchen door, causing me to stop in my tracks.

Lana. She's here? I furrowed my brows to listen more closely, gradually turning my worry from last night into anger. Lana should be back at the hotel by now, or at least trying to contact me. But she's here, chatting with Gregory Shaw as if nothing happened last night.

I clenched my fists and continued walking towards the kitchen, but a hand grabbed my waist, almost making me scream in surprise, while another hand covered my mouth. My back bumped into something hard yet warm; my heart pounded in my chest because I knew who was behind me right now.

"Miss Morrel doesn't know you're here," he whispered in my ear, his hand still over my mouth. Suddenly, he took a deep breath, as if trying to sniff something.

My heart raced even faster, and my face blushed slightly, but this time for a different reason than before. I hadn't showered since yesterday evening. I tried to push his hand away from my waist, but it didn't budge.

Then, in a huskier voice, he whispered again in my ear, "I like your scent, Eleanor."

His voice sounded a bit strange in my ear. Suddenly, he released me quickly, as if he was surprised himself.

I turned around to face him, his eyes, deep blue, staring at me with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. Embarrassment? Nicholas Shaw? Before I could ask if he was okay, Nicholas beat me to it, saying, "I've prepared breakfast for you in the room."

"But—"

"We'll talk in my room," he interrupted before walking towards the nearest staircase. I followed him from behind, feeling puzzled. For a moment, I forgot my anger towards Lana.

I closed the door behind me after we both entered his room. A tray with a bowl of oatmeal and fruit, along with a glass of orange juice, was placed on the table.

"I need to talk to Lana," I said, approaching him. He looked at me with a frown.

"I think if you talk to Miss Morrel in your current outfit, it will make her suspicious," his eyes glanced at my bare feet and then moved upwards slowly.

I realized I was just wearing Nicholas's shirt at the moment.

"You're right. Sorry," I replied with a flushed face. "I... I need to get back to the hotel." I muttered as I grabbed my dress from the chair. He looked back at the tray of breakfast he had prepared for me before looking at me again. I put my dress back down and sat in the chair next to the table, and I looked up at him, "Thank you for—"

"Eat, Eleanor," he cut in with a faint smile.

He turned to grab something from his wardrobe, a white shirt and black trousers, "I'll take you back to the hotel after this," he said before leaving the room, leaving me to finish my breakfast.

Fifteen minutes later, I had changed from Nicholas's shirt into my dress from last night. I tried to reach for the zipper on my dress but failed because it was positioned very low on my back, the way Lana had pulled it down for me last night.

With an annoyed sigh, I looked at my reflection in Nicholas's bathroom mirror. The place was very tidy, even tidier than my bathroom filled with makeup and face creams. Two towels hung neatly in the corner of the room, the shower and bathtub across from me had tempted me a few minutes ago. I really wanted to shower after what Nicholas had said earlier. My face reddened again. I straightened my auburn hair a bit, slightly regretting not bringing any makeup. At least lipstick would be very useful right now.

I took a deep breath before opening the bathroom door slightly, and as I suspected, Nicholas was in the room. He was rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt when he heard the bathroom door open. I had to hold my breath when I saw him; he looked like a Calvin Klein model fresh out of a GQ photoshoot. His messy brown hair partially covered one of his eyes. His sharp jawline and serious face turned into a small smile when he saw me, and his deep blue eyes stared at me gently.

"Are you ready?" he asked, buttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. A strange feeling came over me as I looked at him. We were in his room right now, he had just put on his shirt, and I had just put on my dress in his bathroom. We almost looked like a normal couple, and I really liked this new feeling.

I closed the bathroom door a little wider and stepped out. "I need a little help," I muttered, turning my back to him. "I can't reach the zipper."

For three seconds that felt like forever, there was no response from Nicholas until I heard his footsteps approaching from behind. One of my hands pulled my hair aside to one shoulder so it wouldn't block the zipper.

I heard him take a deep breath from behind me, and my heart beat a little faster as his hand touched my skin slightly. Then, very slowly, Nicholas pulled the zipper of my dress upwards. One of his fingers brushed against my skin as he did so. My heart raced uncontrollably, and I could hear its thumping in my own ears.

He zipped up my dress all the way to the top before stopping. Before I could turn around, Nicholas touched the side of my shoulder that wasn't covered by my hair. Then, I felt his head rest against my shoulder, his breath just millimeters away from my neck, sending shivers down my spine.

My body froze as his hands gripped my waist, his scent of aftershave and cologne enveloping me, causing thousands of butterflies to flutter in my stomach.

"I know I shouldn't have done this before you gave your answer," he murmured very softly, "But this will be my last chance if you..." He didn't finish his sentence. After a few seconds of silence, he spoke again, "Just remember one thing before you decide, Eleanor." His lips were almost touching my skin, and without realizing it, my head tilted slightly to give him wider access.

"If you choose to stay, I won't let you go again. Even if you beg me to," he whispered before swiftly pulling away from me.

***

Lana returned at 1 p.m. Her face looked very guilty as she emerged from behind the door of our hotel room. I had changed into jeans and a blouse after Nicholas dropped me off at the hotel. I glanced at Lana briefly before grabbing my suitcase to start packing. We were going back to San Francisco this evening.

"Ella?" Lana's voice sounded more guilty than her expression.

"Do you know how worried I was last night?" I muttered as I tossed my dress from last night into the suitcase. "You didn't even try to contact me." I added with a flat tone.

"I... I tried to reach you," she replied weakly.

"Before you realized my phone was in your bag along with my wallet and room key?" I asked with a flat tone, folding my arms across my chest.

Lana didn't respond; she just stood in front of the door until I finished packing my suitcase ten minutes later. Lana was still wearing her blue dress, minus the makeup. She bit her lip while looking at me with a worried and guilty expression.

After making her feel guilty enough, I turned to face her. "What happened last night?"

Her cheeks flushed when I mentioned Gregory's name; an uncomfortable feeling started to grow in my stomach. All night, my mind had been preoccupied with Nicholas. It was only now that I realized there was another important matter, one that concerned Lana and Gregory Shaw. And I didn't like that man. Christine had told me he changed partners as quickly as he changed his clothes. "How do you know him, Lana?" I asked seriously.

Her blush became more prominent as she glanced at me, "We met a few years ago at a conference when-"

"Yeah, I remember. You came back crying and stayed at my dorm for a few days." I squinted suspiciously, "What did he do to you?"

A deep blush spread across Lana's cheeks as she hesitated for a moment. "We just... talked. Then he invited me to dinner after the conference. He took me to his hotel afterward, but I refused, so he drove me home."

I wasn't particularly surprised that Greg would invite a woman he just met to his hotel after a few hours, because he was Gregory Shaw. Christine had told me he changed partners quickly. "Then?"

"Then he promised to contact me again..."

"And he didn't," I said because Lana had cried that night.

"Oh, I lied to him a bit... about my name and other things." She bit her lip again. Lana still looked at me with a slightly guilty expression.

"Your name?" I repeated, this time a little confused.

"I gave him the name Patricia and a wrong number."

Patricia was Lana's alias she used when she genuinely liked someone. I never understood why she lied if she liked Gregory.

All of Lana's ex-boyfriends had never made her cry when they broke up. Lana had never seemed regretful at all. Patricia was the alias Lana used when she genuinely liked someone. And Gregory... that jerk was one of the lucky ones.

I frowned, "You shouldn't like him, Lana."

Her big blue eyes widened, then she sighed. "I know," Lana said with a sad voice, making me want to hug her, then she smiled. "Don't worry, El, Greg won't be permanent," she added with a shrug, pretending not to care, then she went into the bathroom. But her face said otherwise.