Chapter 3 - The Sanctuary of the East Wing
The master suite on the top floor of the Callaway mansion had been off-limits to estate staff for ten years. It was a vast, quiet sanctuary of mahogany wood, soft cream rugs, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the misty hills of Oyster Bay.
Nathaniel walked into the suite carrying Lily, who had cried herself to sleep against his broad shoulder. Her tiny thumb was tucked into her mouth, her soot-stained yellow dress looking impossibly small against his dark tailored suit.
Grace walked nervously behind them, her hands trembling as she wiped her red eyes. She felt entirely out of place in this private, sacred space of the mansion.
Nathaniel gently laid Lily down on the center of his massive king-sized bed, pulling a soft cashmere throw blanket over her shoulders. He lingered for a moment, brushing a stray dark curl away from her forehead with unbelievable tenderness.
He turned to Grace. “Sit down, Grace.”
Grace remained standing by the mahogany wardrobe. “Mr. Callaway... I don't know what to say. The gala... your engagement... Marsh Capital... you destroyed everything tonight because of us. The press tomorrow is going to be terrible.”
Nathaniel walked over to a small mahogany bar, poured two fingers of amber whiskey into a crystal glass, and handed it to her.
“Drink this,” he commanded gently. “You’re shaking.”
Grace took the glass with both hands, taking a tiny sip. The liquid burned down her throat, bringing a faint wave of warmth back to her icy chest.
“Vivien Marsh didn't ruin my engagement tonight, Grace,” Nathaniel said, leaning against the edge of his mahogany desk, looking at her with steady, intense eyes. “She simply revealed what she was before I made the biggest mistake of my life.”
“She was your fiancée,” Grace whispered. “Her family is powerful.”
“And she is hollow,” Nathaniel said flatly. “For two years, my advisors told me a marriage with Vivien was 'logically sound.' They told me it would consolidate freight routes and appease the board of directors. I listened to them because I believed my personal life didn't matter anymore. Not since my parents died.”
He took a step closer to Grace. His posture was no longer that of a distant, unreachable boss. He looked like a man who had suddenly woken up from a long, cold sleep.
“I watched a three-year-old child draw a lion for me four months ago,” Nathaniel said softly. “And for the first time in ten years, I felt like someone saw me as a person, not a bank account.”
Grace looked down at her hands, her heart pounding against her ribs with a dangerous, terrifying rhythm. “Lily doesn't know any better, Mr. Callaway. She’s just a little girl.”
“She knows more than most of the adults who were sitting in that ballroom tonight,” Nathaniel replied. He reached out, his thumb gently catching a stray tear on Grace’s cheek. His skin was warm and rough, his touch making her breath catch in her throat. “And so do you.”
Grace looked up into his dark, piercing eyes.
“Mr. Callaway—”
“Nathaniel,” he corrected softly. “When we are in this room, my name is Nathaniel.”
“Nathaniel,” Grace whispered, the name tasting strange and sweet on her lips. “What happens now? Vivien’s father won't take this lying down. Marsh Capital has lawyers, political contacts... they will try to destroy your reputation.”
Nathaniel let out a low, cold laugh—a sound filled with supreme confidence.
“Arthur Marsh is a bully who built his empire on debt and political favors,” Nathaniel said. “He thinks he can intimidate me because he’s twenty years older than me. He doesn't realize that Callaway Freight controls every major distribution artery on the Eastern Seaboard. If he wants a war, I will give him one that strips him of every penny he owns.”
He looked back toward the bed where Lily slept peacefully.
“Starting tomorrow,” Nathaniel continued, “you and Lily are moving out of the staff cottage.”
Grace blinked. “Moving? Where?”
“Into the main house,” Nathaniel said firmly. “The guest suite in the east wing. It has a private garden, central heating, and triple-pane reinforced glass windows.”
“Nathaniel, no,” Grace protested, panic flaring in her voice. “The other staff members... the press... they’ll say terrible things! They’ll think I’m... that I used my daughter to get close to you!”
May you like
Nathaniel stepped closer, his body blocking out the rest of the room, trapping her in the warm, secure orbit of his presence.
“Let them say whatever they want, Grace,” he whispered, his gaze dropping to her soft lips before rising back to her eyes. “Because after tonight, anyone who speaks a word against you or Lily in this city will answer directly to me.”
