Chapter 7: He Remembered

"So... am I really supposed to live here... with you?" I asked hesitantly as we stepped into the modest house. It was decent enough, but I couldn’t hide my surprise. For someone from the Montague family, I expected something much grander.

"Do you have a problem with that?" Nathaniel asked, raising an eyebrow.

I rolled my eyes in frustration. Living under the same roof with a man I barely knew was unsettling. Sure, he was legally my husband, but he still felt like a complete stranger. And then there were the rumors—the countless things I’d heard about him.

"Yes, of course I have a problem," I muttered, barely loud enough for him to hear. "I don’t even know you. And I’ve heard... things about you."

Nathaniel smirked, letting out a soft chuckle. "I figured. People do love their gossip. Just don’t believe everything you hear," he said as he sank into the medium-sized sofa. He rested his head on the back of it, closing his eyes as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

I sighed and reluctantly dragged my luggage inside. "Where’s my room?" I asked after a pause.

"This house has three rooms. Pick whichever one you want," he replied, still lounging on the sofa with his eyes closed.

I exhaled sharply, clearly unimpressed by his laid-back attitude. Without another word, I made my way upstairs and began exploring. The corner room on the second floor caught my attention. It wasn’t too big or too small, just enough for me. Judging by the wide door of the master bedroom, I figured that one belonged to him.

I stepped into my chosen room and took a moment to take it all in. It was clean and simple—nothing like the lavish room I had back at the Evans mansion. But maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. For once, I might actually find some peace here.

---

Midnight came, and I still couldn’t sleep. My mind was restless, caught in the whirlwind of how fast my life had changed. No matter how many times I shifted positions or adjusted the pillows, sleep just wouldn’t come. Everything about this place felt foreign.

Finally, I gave up and decided to get a glass of water. My throat felt unbearably dry. I tiptoed downstairs and into the kitchen. As I opened the refrigerator door, the pale light spilled out, and I nearly screamed when I saw a figure standing beside me.

"Son of a—! What the hell, Nate! You scared the crap out of me!" I hissed, clutching my chest.

He didn’t flinch. "Can’t sleep?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Y-yeah," I stammered, suddenly aware of how vulnerable I felt, standing barefoot in my pajamas.

"Homesick? Or is it the fact that, in just a snap, you're now living with the same man you had sex with a few days ago?" he said casually, his words slicing through the silence like a blade.

My breath hitched. My throat, already dry, felt even worse. He *knew*. He’d known all along. My face turned crimson as panic set in.

"Dang it. You remembered?" I managed to whisper. "Look, that was a mistake—a huge mistake. It was just a part of the game—"

"What we did in the car wasn’t part of any game, Paige," he interrupted, his tone steady but firm.

He stepped closer, and instinctively, I moved back until my hips hit the hard edge of the counter behind me. My pulse quickened as he leaned in slightly, his eyes locking onto mine.

“S-stop right there!” I managed to stammer between heavy breaths. Why is it suddenly so hot in here? Is the air conditioning off?

“You know damn well it was no longer part of the game,” Nate said, his voice low and confident as he leaned closer, our noses almost touching. “But you enjoyed it.”

“No. You’re mistaken. I was just drunk,” I muttered, doing my best to avoid his piercing gaze.

“You didn’t look drunk enough,” he countered, smirking. “And I hate that you rejected my invitation to my condo. Am I that ugly? Or is mine just that small and didn’t satisfy you?”

“Will you shut up! I’m going to bed!” I snapped, my voice rising as I pushed him away with all the strength I could muster. I needed to get out of his space before I completely lost control.

“Now you’re in denial,” he chuckled, his tone dripping with arrogance. “Let’s see how long you can keep that up.”

I ignored him, storming back to my room as fast as I could. Slamming the door behind me, I leaned against it, panting heavily. Damn it. What does he want from me? Why is he doing this?

I threw myself onto the bed, closing my eyes tightly. Thankfully, after a few minutes of calming my frazzled nerves, I finally fell asleep.

---

The next morning, I woke to the sound of persistent knocking on my door. Groggily, I washed my face and opened it, only to find Nate standing outside in his pajamas, arms crossed impatiently.

“What took you so long?” he asked, his eyebrows knitting together in annoyance.

“I just woke up. What do you want?” I mumbled, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

“Get ready. We have a yacht party to attend. You’ll be my muse,” he stated flatly before turning on his heel and walking away.

I stood there, stunned. That’s it? No mention of last night? He acted as if nothing had happened, and for some reason, it annoyed me even more.

I stood there for a few moments, trying to process his words, then reluctantly decided to start preparing. While I was getting ready, my mind buzzed with questions.

What kind of event is this? Will I fit in with the elites? What’s going to happen there?

And, most importantly:

How’s Mom?

I hadn’t visited her in days. I needed to know if Victoria had kept her promise and paid the bills. The hospital charges were piling up every day, and the follow-up surgery was looming. We had to settle everything before the final operation could even begin.

Please , Victoria. Don’t let me down.