Chapter 106

Evelyn closed her eyes briefly, exhaustion etching stern lines across her usually soft features.

She sighed. "Mister Grayson, I wish we could trust each other more. You don’t need to be so guarded, as if I’d betray you the moment you look away. Just give me some breathing room! I already promised I wouldn’t break our agreement before the three months are up. Can’t you take my word for it?"

Nathaniel stared at her, unblinking. "You think I’m worried about you?"

Evelyn lifted her chin, tilting her head as her wide eyes met his. "Then what else? You wouldn’t have shown up at a party you clearly despised, barged into my room, and humiliated my classmate if you weren’t keeping tabs on me!"

His voice was cool. "Miss Whitmore, remember our arrangement. For these three months, your safety is partially my responsibility. It’s not you I distrust—it’s the men around you. Can’t you see they have ulterior motives?"

She scoffed. "I’m not an idiot. Of course I see it. But I can handle myself. They won’t get anywhere with me."

Nathaniel arched a brow. "Oh? Then why were you raising that glass, ready to drink when they cheered?"

"It was just a cocktail!" Evelyn frowned, annoyed he was making such a big deal out of it.

She knew her limits. One sip wouldn’t hurt.

"Just a cocktail?" His tone sharpened. "How do you know they didn’t slip something in it? At parties like that, you never accept drinks from strangers. Appearances deceive. Do I really need to explain this to you?"

Evelyn blinked, momentarily speechless. Since when did Mister Grayson take his guardian role this seriously?

She’d only ever heard lectures like this in cheesy dramas. After her mother died, no one had cared enough to scold her. Her father barely acknowledged her existence unless she embarrassed the family.

This was… strange.

Regaining her composure, she smirked. "What about the drinks you give me? Should I refuse those too?"

Nathaniel went still for a beat before narrowing his eyes. "Am I the same as them?"

Her smirk turned mocking. "Oh, you’re very different. You don’t look like the type to chase after women—let alone someone like me. So, no, you wouldn’t bother drugging me. Right?"

A slow, humorless smile curved his lips. "You’re sharper than I thought, Miss Whitmore."

"You’re ridiculous." She rolled her eyes. "First, you tease me about no one ever marrying me. Now, you’re paranoid someone will spike my drink."

He leaned back, watching her with sardonic amusement. "The world’s full of surprises. Some people have… unconventional tastes."

Evelyn’s lips twitched. "Well, thanks for your concern, Mister Grayson. I’ll be sure to thank your ancestors too."

Her voice trailed off as drowsiness overtook her. Moments later, her head dropped onto his shoulder, her breathing steady.

Nathaniel glanced down at the woman who’d just claimed his shoulder as her pillow.

No one had ever dared.

His expression darkened, but he didn’t push her away.

When Evelyn woke, she was in her bed at the Grayson estate, the sky still dark outside.

How had she gotten home?

She rubbed her temples, but the memory of leaving the train station was a blur.