All Chapters of Contracted Husband : Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

It’s good to be back. I sigh as I stare at three months’ worth of mail waiting on my desk. Even the thought of going through all those bills isn’t enough to bring down my mood. I’ve missed New Jersey, missed my home, and, even more so, the gallery. Don’t get me wrong, our trip around Europe was fantastic. Meeting new artists in hopes of bringing them to the States, visiting my most-loved piece at The Louvre,Orphan Girlby Eugène Delacroix, and getting to finally step into the National Gallery in England. Scotland was my favorite stop. It’s where my ancestors are from, after all. Not that I ever met any of my relatives. Or know anything more about them beyond the few names I forced from Dad. But it was amazing to see nonetheless. I wanted to stay longer. To continue with our new American culture traveling gallery and become more intimate with every art museum and showcase we participated in. But I was also homesick. Every time I touched a canvas or inhaled the smell of paint, I thou

However, Nathan barely touches his food. His brow furrows as he pushes a sweet potato fry across his plate. “Did you enjoy your trip abroad?”I nod and drink some more water to wash down my food. “It was very nice. Have you ever been to Europe?”“Italy,” he says. “I have a house in Brera.”Impressed, I raise my brows. Not that I know where that is. “It must be nice to have a place to stay while you travel.”“I rarely go. Work keeps me too busy here.”And here’s my chance to ask what I’ve been so curious about. “What type of work do you do?”“I’m a consultant.”I laugh. “That’s the response you give someone when you don’t want to tell them what you do.”“Maybe I don’t want to say.”Cocking my head, I chew my lower lip and study him. “Can I guess?”“I’d love to hear what you think I do. It will be sort of judging a book by its cover, though.” He grins devilishly, as if he can’t wait for me to trip up and say something insulting.“Well”—I tap my finger against my chin—“based on looks, I’

“It’s on me.”“I’m the only one who ate.” I point at my plate. “You lied to me, Nathan . You weren’t even hungry, were you?”“Iamhungry, Natalia . But not for food.” His intense stare leaves no question about his meaning.“Oh,” I whisper, my mouth gone instantly dry.As he works on calculating the tip for our meal, I stare at him. At his handsome features. He must be in his early thirties; however, very few lines mar his face.I recall my mother saying lines on your skin are like a map that tells you where someone had been. Crinkles around the eyes and mouth say a person has known joy. But if they’re on other parts of the face, parts that don’t normally pull when a person smiles, that means they’ve been through hell.Nathan doesn’t have lines around his eyes or mouth. His are between his brows and one long indent that forms on the side of his cheek when he’s deep in thought. Like now.“Nathan ,” I say.He signs the receipt and places his credit card back into his black leather wallet,

“Yes.” I lean against the table and peer down at them. “Eyes are windows. Everything you need to know about someone, you can find it there. The rest of the face is just… Extra.”“Who do they belong to? Are they all the same person?”“Not all.” I pull one from a stack and show him. “These are my father’s eyes. Kind. Proud. And these eyes”—I show him another—“belong to my college professor, Miss Crane. She was a bitch and hers were cold as ice.”“And these?” He circles his hand above the majority. “They’re all the same person.”I nod. “They are.”“These are amazing, Natalia . It’s like…” As if he can’t find the words, it takes him a while to continue. “It’s like I’m staring into someone’s soul.”“Thank you.”“For a second, I thought it was you. But I’m not so sure now.”“They’re my mother’s eyes,” I whisper. “How I remember them, anyway.”Turning to me, his brow furrowed, he asks, “Did she pass?”I smile sadly. “No. She left.”A dark flicker crosses his expression for a split second. Bu

I blink in confusion. “Why?”“Because, Natalia , the answer to my question is that shadows drown out the light. Inevitably, it goes out under the weight of darkness.” He places a kiss on my lobe. “You were right. Iamdangerous. I’m going to hurt you if you don’t tell me to leave.” He pulls away slightly, far enough that he’s able to glare at me with an intensity that startles me. “Say it!”I take him in, his lips, his chiseled jaw. His achingly beautiful gaze.He wants me to say the words that will send him away while he’s pressed so intimately against me that I can barely remember my own name? If he doesn’t have the will to pull away, how can he expect it of me?“Why were you here that night after the exhibition?” I demand. “I saw you down there watching me from the street.”“I’ll answer that if you answer this. Did you like it? Did you like me looking at you?”“Yes,” I admit.“Were you going to undress for me?” Trailing his fingertips over my bare arm, he wraps one of the shoulder st