Chapter 1522:
Corrine quietly hoped she would heed today’s veiled warning. Otherwise, Irene was blindly digging her own downfall.
“But she made you unhappy?” Nate observed.
He had sensed the shadow across Corrine’s spirit, which had prompted this gentle interrogation.
He’d hoped she might unburden her true feelings, yet she kept them locked away. Perhaps other worries plagued her mind, or possibly she truly remained untouched by the matter—he couldn’t decipher which truth lay beneath her composed exterior.
Corrine studied Nate’s face in measured silence before slowly reclaiming her upright position. “It isn’t her who dims my mood.”
“Not her?” Confusion etched itself across Nate’s brow as he searched Corrine’s expression, his certainty crumbling before her unexpected denial. Corrine fixed him with an unwavering gaze and declared, “It’s you.”
She leaned forward, pressing Nate back against the sofa cushions. “That face of yours attracts far too many unwelcome admirers. Perhaps I should master the art of discouraging these women before they even dare to approach?” First came Rosalie, followed by Elva, and now Irene. This relentless parade of admirers had become an exhausting burden to shoulder.
At her words, the severity melted from Nate’s features, replaced by a gentle smile as warmth flooded his eyes.
His fingers reached out to thread through her silken hair, his palm cradling the nape of her neck. “But my attention has never wavered elsewhere. You are the only woman I’ve ever tried to charm.”
As his calloused fingertips grazed the tender hollow behind her ear, Corrine’s fingers involuntarily curled into her palm. She cleared her throat to quiet the ripples of pleasure coursing through her heart, her eyes dancing with mischievous light. “Are you confessing to using those devastating looks of yours to ensnare me?”
gⲁ𝗅𝓝𝗈ν𝖊𝗅𝘀.𝗰0𝗺; 𝓜𝒐𝒓𝑒 novels
Nate’s lips curved into a half-smile that only heightened his magnetic allure. “And if I did, has my strategy proven successful?”
“Hopelessly and eternally captivated by your charm,” Corrine whispered, brushing her lips against his in a feather-light caress.
At her admission, the warmth of Nate’s smile radiated from his lips to illuminate his entire expression.
His fingertips traced the delicate architecture of her face. “I’ll have Jerome arrange for Irene’s immediate departure.”
Since Irene’s presence had cast even the faintest shadow over Corrine’s contentment, there was no justification for allowing her to remain and sow further discord.
Corrine acknowledged his declaration with nothing more than a simple nod.
She shifted to lie alongside Nate, her arm claiming his waist in a possessive embrace, her head finding its natural place against the steady rhythm of his chest.
She didn’t ask why, as that would make her seem foolish.
Nor did she intercede on Irene’s behalf—she was, after all, a woman with normal instincts and pride.
Why would she plead mercy for someone who coveted what was hers and had the audacity to issue a challenge?
Unlike those soft-hearted women with their endless compassion, Corrine believed in the sacred balance of retribution.
“Tuesday is an auspicious day,” Nate murmured, his palm tracing idle patterns along the curve of her waist, occasionally stealing a kiss.
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