Chapter 135

Cassandra froze at the sight of Nathaniel. "What the hell? Why did Nathaniel come out right after that witch Evelyn left? Were they both in there together?"

The realization hit her like a punch to the gut. Her expression twisted with disbelief before settling into sharp suspicion. Nathaniel had been watching Evelyn strangely during tea service earlier. And Evelyn? That little seductress knew exactly how to wrap men around her finger. That spilled tea incident was clearly staged to get his attention.

The thought sent white-hot pain through Cassandra's chest. She needed answers. Forcing a sweet smile, she approached Nathaniel with calculated steps. "Mr. Grayson, my assistant just left that restroom. Isn't it curious you exited right after her? Did you two... share the space?"

"Your assistant?" Nathaniel's glacial gaze swept over her. Three icy words dropped like stones. "Didn't see her."

'Didn't see her?' His dismissive tone sent chills down her spine but stoked her anger. He must have entered while she was confronting Evelyn. Men did take less time in restrooms, after all.

Of course someone of Nathaniel's status wouldn't share facilities with a country nobody like Evelyn. Cassandra mentally kicked herself for the ridiculous assumption.

Her smile returned, practiced and perfect. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear with feigned shyness. "I'm terribly sorry about my assistant burning you earlier. Please, let me make it up to you. Maybe I could take you to dinner? If you'd just give me your number—"

"Unnecessary." Nathaniel strode past without breaking step, his broad shoulders cutting through the space between them.

"Mr. Grayson, wait!" Cassandra hurried after him, heels clicking urgently. "I insist—"

He didn't pause. Didn't glance back. His rejection was absolute.

Recognizing the danger in pushing further, Cassandra stopped dead. She'd find another opportunity. There would be other chances to close this distance.

Rooted in place, she drank in the sight of his retreating form—tall, commanding, every inch the aristocrat. Hunger twisted her features.

Nathaniel Grayson embodied everything a first-tier heir should be. Wealth. Power. Breathtaking looks. Yet what truly captivated her was his restraint—how he'd brushed off the scalding without retaliation. That cold exterior only proved he wasn't some playboy. The woman who cracked that shell would be treasured beyond measure.

Agony lanced through her. Such perfection... already claimed by another. The injustice burned like acid in her veins.

She'd been so close. So damn close to being his wife.