Chapter 26

"Mr. Blackwood, I can't go on!" Oliver gasped as they ascended the marble staircase.

The Monarch Grand Hotel boasted extravagant high ceilings, making each flight longer than standard buildings. By the eighth floor, Oliver's breathing had become ragged. His legs shook violently, threatening to collapse beneath him.

"A real man doesn't quit when the finish line's in sight. Just two more floors." Nathan's voice remained steady as he climbed effortlessly.

At thirty-two, Nathan stood two years older than Oliver. His military background with the peacekeeping forces had forged an ironclad physique. Even after leaving service, he maintained rigorous martial arts training that put ordinary men to shame.

He could easily conquer twenty additional floors without breaking sweat. Army night runs had conditioned him for thirty-mile sprints carrying full gear.

When they finally reached the fortieth floor, Oliver collapsed onto the steps, chest heaving. Nathan regarded him with icy disapproval before shaking his head.

"Mr. Blackwood, what a pleasure."

Nathan turned toward the smooth voice. A sharply dressed man approached with practiced politeness. His boyish features - what society called a puppy-dog face - made his age impossible to determine.

"I'm Ms. Carter's executive assistant, Theodore Winslow. She's been expecting you." His smile didn't reach his eyes. "If you'll follow me."

Nathan's jaw tightened. Was that subtle dig about their tardiness? "My apologies. Human legs move slower than elevators. Do convey my regrets to Ms. Carter."

Theodore offered no response, simply pivoting on his polished Oxfords. Oliver, having caught his breath, bristled at the dismissal.

"Who does that pretty boy think he-" Oliver began, but Nathan silenced him with a raised hand.

"Wait here."

Nathan followed Theodore to the imposing double doors of the executive suite. For reasons he couldn't explain, his pulse quickened. Normally unflappable, the prospect of finally confronting the elusive Evelyn Carter unsettled him.

After Theodore's crisp knock, a feminine voice called, "Enter!"

The door swung open, revealing an office that stole Nathan's breath. Sunlight streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating a grand piano in the corner. A rare marble coffee table and vintage leather furnishings spoke of quiet luxury.

But his gaze snagged on the calligraphy hanging behind the desk:

"Hide your strength and bide your time."

"Exquisite craftsmanship," Nathan murmured before he could stop himself.

In the adjacent monitoring room, Evelyn froze mid-bite of her dark chocolate. The compliment, so casually given, sent an unexpected tremor through her. Three years of marriage had yielded zero praise from this man. Now, when it no longer mattered...

She schooled her features, watching through the screens as her proxy greeted him.

The woman at the desk possessed understated elegance - flawless complexion, tasteful designer dress, cascading hair. Everything a proper society woman should be.

Not at all the vindictive heiress Nathan had imagined. This polished version lacked the fire, the razor-sharp edges of the real Evelyn.

"Mr. Blackwood, you must be exhausted. Please, sit." The words came through the proxy's lips, though Evelyn's Bluetooth headset controlled the conversation.

Nathan settled onto the sofa, taking in the office's details. His attention kept returning to that framed calligraphy.

"Do you like it?" Evelyn asked through her proxy, forcing pleasantness into the question.

"It's... refined. Artistic." Nathan's praise came sparingly, as always.

"Then take it as a welcome gift."

"No need. Such art belongs with its owner." His refusal carried the same indifference she remembered so well.

Evelyn's fingers tightened around her chocolate. How typical. Even when offering something precious, he'd reject it. Just like he'd rejected her.

The game was just beginning.