The Jilted Heiress' Return to the High Life - Chapter 39

Chapter 39:

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Corrine studied Nate with a subtle, probing curiosity. Who was this man really?

Nate reclined with a calculated ease, his shirt collar rebelliously undone, exposing the faint curve of his collarbone—an act that felt both deliberate and careless. There was a palpable shift in his aura, a touch of rawness creeping into his typically composed demeanor, like a flame momentarily unguarded by the wind.

The warm light spilled over him like molten gold, tempering his otherwise imposing presence with an almost tender glow. His eyelids were half-closed, the corners of his mouth curling into a subtle, enigmatic smile as he moved through the coffee-making ritual with the precision of a watchmaker.

When he finally slid a cup toward Corrine, his voice, low and resonant, wrapped around the words like velvet.

“When are you getting discharged?”

Corrine cradled the cup, savoring the first sip. The rich aroma filled her senses. When its sweetness dissipated on her tongue, she replied, her tone calm, “Tomorrow.”

“I’ll take you home then.” His words dropped into the space between them, steady and unyielding, laced with an authority that left little room for negotiation.

Corrine gave a small shake of her head, a polite but firm refusal.

“Your concern is noted, Mr. Hopkins, but it’s unnecessary.”

Nate’s gaze rose to meet hers, his dark eyes locking onto her like a predator sizing up its prey. And then, as though the tension weren’t enough, a faint smirk tugged at his lips, his voice dipping into something dangerously smooth.

Lᴀtеst chαptєrs 𝑖n g𝓪lнovєls.со𝓂

“You’re afraid of me.”

Corrine’s grip tightened around the cup, but her expression remained stoic, her eyes meeting his with a calm resolve.

“Afraid? That’s an interesting assumption.”

His dark eyes were bottomless pools of inscrutability, radiating an invisible pressure that threatened to consume her. He was far more complex than she had initially presumed. While she couldn’t risk provoking him, she was equally determined to maintain her distance.

Nate studied her, his expression unreadable, though a faint glimmer danced in his gaze, like starlight on a restless sea.

“I won’t twist your arm or demand anything from you,” he said softly, though his words carried an edge sharp enough to cut.

“But your outright rejection? That stings a bit, doesn’t it?”

It was impossible to deny Nate’s allure—his face alone was a masterpiece, sculpted to enchant and disarm. Beauty like his had a gravitational pull, and Corrine wasn’t immune. Yet her heart, fractured by Bruce’s betrayal, was a fortress with walls too high to climb, too cold to breach. Not even Nate’s charm could thaw its icy battlements.

“Confidence looks good on you, Mr. Hopkins,” she said with a faint, sardonic smile, her words steeped in irony.

Nate leaned back, his movements unhurried, and traced the rim of his coffee cup with long, elegant fingers.

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