Chapter 95
:
After lunch, while Eliza and June are out in the pavilion, I go looking for Nathan.
It feels like a futile quest since I have no idea where he spends the day, and I dare not go up to the west wing in broad daylight.
I’m about to give up and go back outside before someone finds me wandering around the mansion, and my long rap sheet grows even longer when I bump into Isaac coming out of the kitchen.
“April!” He gives me a friendly smile.
I return his smile. “Hi, Isaac. How’s it going?”
He shrugs, shouldering his laptop bag. “Can’t complain. Do you need something?”
I nod. “Actually, yes. I’m looking for Nathan.”
Isaac raises a brow but doesn’t ask whatever question he might have.
“He should be in the library,” he answers. “You remember where it is, right?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Isaac hesitates as if he wants to add something but thinks better of it and walks away with a slight wave.
With a new spring in my step, I head towards the back of the mansion.
As Easton showed us on the first day here, the library is connected to the house by a wide, long corridor. On its walls hang portraits of people I assume are Ashford ancestors who look down on me as I pass, superiority shining down even from a painting.
And just like that first day, the library takes my breath away.
Because it’s built away from the main house, the tall building isn’t divided into floors. There are only three rows of mezzanines, connected by twisting pillars grooved with stairs and wrapped with fake vines.
Each row holds more books than anyone can ever read in their lifetime, and the sheer awe of it stuns me.
The ceiling is made of glass, allowing natural light to shine down in shifting patterns.
One ray shines on the boy who holds my heart in his hands as he looks up at my entrance.
“April?”
He’s seated in the clearing in the middle of the library. There are rows of desks and chairs, but Nathan is lounging on a large beanbag chair. A laptop is perched on his legs, which are propped on what looks like the Guinness World Records book.
“Hi,” I exhale, moving to him like metal filings to a magnet.
He rises in time to catch me in his arms.
1/4
15:14 Mon, Oct 6 …
Chapter 95
“I can’t believe you’re still here,” he murmurs into my hair, his chest rising and falling against mine as he pe
I press my face into his shoulder, inhaling his scent. “Neither can L.”
I pull back to look at him. “We almost drove out of the gates. I was so scared Peter’s plan didn’t work. I thought I wouldn’t see you again.”
Nathan’s brows knot as he cups my face gently. “You do realize that this Estate and the outside world aren’t Be different dimensie right?”
A short laugh escapes me. “Can you blame me if it feels that way sometimes?”
Nathan chuckles. “No, I guess not.”
I reach up and wrap a hand around his wrist, my thumb idly brushing his skin. “Did…did your parents say anything about it?”
A shadow passes across his face, and I feel him stiffen against me. It lasts for a split second before he relaxes.
“Nothing they haven’t said before,” he says nonchalantly. Too nonchalantly.
“Nathan…” Now that I know what his family is like, I can’t help but worry. I can’t help but read extra deeply into his actions and expressions, wondering what he’s hiding.
“Don’t worry about it,” he says, offering me a smile that causes my heart to do a backflip in my chest.
His hands move from my face, and he grips my hand, gently pulling me down with him onto the beanbag chair.
A small squeak slips out of my mouth when he perches me on his lap, wrapping an arm around my waist. His lips twitch “Is this o
I slap my hand over his mouth. “I swear to God, Nathan, stop asking me that question.”
I feel his lips spread against my palm, and when I remove my hand, he says, “You do realize you’re giving me permission to do whatever É want to you,“–his hand slips underneath my top, and his fingers lightly stroke my skin, sending electricity coursing through me-“right”
I bite my bottom lip hard–to stop myself from screaming at Nathan Ashford to do whatever the fuck he wants to me.
Darting my eyes around the room to distract myself from the sudden heat in his eyes–and pooling in my belly–his laptop catches may attention.
I tip my chin toward it. “What were you doing?”
Nathan smirks knowingly, but lets me change the topic. He reaches for his laptop with his other hand and places it between us.
“Homework,” he answers with a sigh..
I raise a brow, and he chuckles in surprise. “What, you think you’re the only one who goes to school?”
I shrug, a little incredulous. “I guess it never really occurred to me. I’m going to school, so why wouldn’t you?”
214
15:14 Mon, Oct 6
Chapter 95
“Yeah, Fre getting my MBA at Marved?
My ears widen. ‘Holy shit. That is not the the thing
lie sighs again. “Yeah”
I frown slightly as I study him. “You don’t see too happy about tut
Nathan shrugs. “It’s whatever”
“Hey.” 1 cup his cheek and smile when he instantly leans into my towk. “You can talk to me about anything you user
He closes his eyes briefly but says nothing. I wait patiently, offering my presence as a stand comfor
“I hate it,” Nathan says after a while.
“How come?” I ask softly.
He opens his eyes and fixes his gaze on me, stealing my breath. “It’s a chore, April I don’t give a shit about business and management and all that crap. But it’s my duty as an Ashford heir to bag that degree so I can take my place in the empire That last wint is filled with potent disgust and loathing.
I let my thumb trail across his cheekbone in what I hope is a soothing gesture.
“What would you rather do?”
Nathan lets out a sharp bark of mirthless laughter. “Football*
We simultaneously glance at his bad knee, and sadness ripples through me.
I lean forward and press my forehead against his. “I’m so sorry.”
His hand under my top grips my waist tightly, and a shudder runs through me. His hair brushes my forehead as he shakes his bead.
“There are people who would give anything to go to Harvard and have the opportunities I have. Yet, here I am, playing the world’s smallest violin.”
I shake my head. “You need to stop saying things like that.” I pull back to look at him. Just because you’re rich doesn’t mean your problems don’t matter.”
He scoffs. *If they can even be called problems. Oh boohoo, I’m studying a prestigious course I don’t like. My trust fund can buy tem private islands, but I mope around because my father doesn’t love me. And don’t even get me started on the women Eterally competing for my hand in m—”
I cut his self–deprecating rant off by pressing my lips to his.
