Chapter 2 Forbidden Whispers

**Chapter 2 — Forbidden Whispers**

I avoided being alone with Nathaniel for the next three days, busying myself with decorating the mansion and getting to know the staff. The house felt enormous and empty despite the people in it—or perhaps because of them. Henry was constantly on calls, managing his empire, while Nathaniel seemed to lurk in every shadow, his eyes following me whenever we were in the same room.

On the fourth morning, I decided to explore the grounds. The rain had finally stopped, and weak sunlight filtered through the clouds. I followed a stone path that wound through manicured gardens toward a small greenhouse at the edge of the property.

The greenhouse door was unlocked. Inside, the air was warm and heavy with the scent of soil and flowers. I wandered between rows of exotic plants, trailing my fingers over glossy leaves.

"Martha tends these herself," a voice said from behind me. "She has quite the green thumb."

I turned to find Nathaniel leaning against the doorframe, blocking the only exit. He wore running clothes, his dark hair damp with sweat.

"I was just leaving," I said, moving toward the door.

He didn't budge. "Running from me again, Liv? You've been doing that since the moment you saw me."

"I'm not running. I'm trying to be respectful of the situation."

"The situation." He chuckled. "Such a diplomatic way to describe this mess."

I crossed my arms. "What do you want, Nathaniel?"

"A conversation. That's all." He moved inside, letting the door close behind him. "We can't avoid each other forever."

"We have nothing to talk about."

"We have everything to talk about." His voice softened. "Six years of everything."

I looked away, focusing on a cluster of orchids. "The past is the past."

"Is it?" He moved closer. "Then why do you still flinch when I say your name? Why do your eyes still dilate when I get too close?"

"Stop it." I backed away, bumping into a potting table.

"I never stopped thinking about you," he said, his voice low. "Even when I was supposed to hate you for what you did."

"What I did?" My voice rose despite my efforts to stay calm. "You disappeared! You left me alone and pregnant with no explanation, no goodbye, nothing!"

"I didn't disappear by choice, Olivia." His eyes darkened. "My father sent me to our London office overnight. Told me it was an emergency assignment. By the time I realized what was happening, my apartment had been cleared out, my number changed, and I was informed that my position would be permanent."

I stared at him in disbelief. "Henry... knew about us?"

"He knew I was seeing someone he didn't approve of. Someone without the right family connections, the right background." Nathaniel's jaw tightened. "He didn't know it was serious. I never told him about the baby."

"I don't believe you," I whispered, but doubt had already crept in. "You could have found a way to contact me if you'd wanted to."

"I tried." His voice was raw with emotion I hadn't expected. "When I finally managed to track you down three months later, your roommate told me you'd moved. Said you'd lost the baby and wanted nothing to do with me."

My head spun. Rachel had never mentioned Nathaniel coming to look for me. "That's not possible."

"Isn't it?" He stepped closer, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. "I mourned that child, Olivia. Our child. I still do."

Tears burned behind my eyes. "You have no right to make me feel guilty. You have no idea what I went through."

"Then tell me." His hand reached up, fingers brushing a strand of hair from my face. "Tell me everything."

The greenhouse door opened, and we jumped apart. Martha stood in the doorway, a watering can in hand. She looked between us, her expression unreadable.

"Mrs. Wilson, Mr. Wilson is looking for you. He's in his study."

"Thank you, Martha," I said, grateful for the interruption. I hurried past Nathaniel without another word.

Henry was on the phone when I entered his study but motioned for me to come in. I sat in one of the leather chairs, trying to compose myself.

"Yes, we'll discuss it at the board meeting next week," he said, winking at me. "Thank you, George."

He hung up and came around the desk to kiss me. "There's my beautiful wife. Where have you been hiding all morning?"

"Exploring the grounds," I said, forcing a smile. "Your greenhouse is amazing."

"Martha's pride and joy." He sat on the edge of his desk. "I've been thinking—we should host a dinner party next weekend. Introduce you properly to our social circle."

"That sounds lovely," I said automatically.

"Good. I've already asked Rachel to help you plan it. I know you two have been friends for years."

My stomach dropped. "Rachel's coming here?"

"She just texted to say she's on her way. Didn't she tell you?"

Before I could respond, the study door opened and Rachel walked in, elegant as always in designer jeans and a cashmere sweater.

"Henry! So good to see you again." She air-kissed his cheeks before turning to me with a brilliant smile. "Liv, darling! The married life clearly agrees with you."

I rose to embrace her, whispering in her ear, "We need to talk."

Her smile never faltered, but she squeezed my arm in acknowledgment.

Henry excused himself for another call, and Rachel linked her arm through mine. "Show me this fabulous mansion I've been hearing about."

As soon as we were alone in the west wing sitting room, I closed the door. "Nathaniel is here."

Rachel's perfectly arched eyebrows rose. "Nathaniel? Your Nathaniel?"

"Henry's son Nathaniel," I clarified, my voice tight.

"Holy shit." She sank onto a sofa. "Does Henry know about your history?"

"No. And he can't find out." I paced the room. "Rachel, Nathaniel told me something strange. He said he came looking for me after he left, and that you told him I'd lost the baby and wanted nothing to do with him."

Rachel's face drained of color. "Liv—"

"It's not true, is it? You would have told me if he'd come looking for me."

She looked away. "It was three months after he vanished. You were just starting to function again after the... procedure. When he showed up at our apartment, you were at therapy. He looked terrible, demanding to know where you were."

My knees weakened. "You lied to him?"

"I was protecting you!" Rachel stood, grabbing my hands. "You were finally healing. I couldn't let him walk back in and destroy you all over again."

I pulled away, tears streaming down my face. "That wasn't your decision to make!"

"Maybe not. But I'd make it again to protect you." Her voice softened. "What does it matter now? You're married to Henry. You have a new life."

"It matters because—" I stopped myself.

"Because what?" Rachel studied my face. "Olivia, please tell me you're not still in love with him."

Before I could answer, the door opened, and Nathaniel walked in. His eyes took in the scene—my tears, Rachel's defensive posture.

"Well, isn't this a reunion," he said, his gaze fixed on Rachel. "Hello, Rachel. Still meddling in other people's lives, I see."

Rachel lifted her chin. "Still showing up where you're not wanted, Nathaniel?"

The tension in the room was suffocating. Nathaniel's eyes found mine. "I think we've all been operating under misunderstandings for too long. Perhaps it's time for some honesty."

"This isn't the time or place," I said quietly.

"When is, then?" His voice was challenging. "Tonight? My room is the third door on the right in the east wing. Father sleeps like the dead after he takes his medication."

Rachel gasped. "Are you seriously propositioning your father's wife right in front of me?"

"I'm proposing a conversation," Nathaniel said smoothly. "Unless Olivia wants more."

"Get out," I whispered, trembling with anger and something else I didn't want to name.

He smiled, a predatory curve of his lips. "As you wish." But as he passed me, he leaned in close enough that only I could hear his next words: "I still remember how you taste."

After he left, Rachel grabbed my shoulders. "Liv, whatever you're thinking, stop it right now. He's dangerous."

"I know," I said, but my mind was already racing ahead to nightfall, to the third door on the right.

That evening, Henry's company hosted a small gathering for potential investors. The house filled with Seattle's elite, and I played the perfect hostess, smiling until my cheeks hurt. Throughout the night, I caught glimpses of Nathaniel charming the guests, but his eyes always returned to me.

During dessert, I excused myself to check on the kitchen staff. As I passed through a dimly lit hallway, a hand shot out from an alcove, pulling me into the shadows. Before I could scream, Nathaniel's lips crashed against mine, hungry and insistent. For one dangerous moment, I responded, my body remembering what my mind wanted to forget.

He pulled back just enough to whisper against my lips. "Tell me you don't feel it too."

"We can't," I breathed, even as my hands clutched the front of his shirt.

"We already are." His fingers traced my collarbone, sending shivers down my spine. "Tonight. My room."

Footsteps approached, and he released me, stepping smoothly out of the alcove as if nothing had happened. I remained hidden, heart pounding, as he greeted a passing guest with perfect composure.

"Ah, Mr. Johnson! I was just admiring this painting. My father has exquisite taste, doesn't he?"

I pressed a hand to my mouth, tasting him still on my lips, knowing I was standing at the edge of a precipice. And despite everything—my marriage, Henry's kindness, the years of pain—I wasn't sure I had the strength to step back from it.