Trouble in Paradise (Arianna and Nicholas)

"Is that so? If you're having trouble, Mr. Hawk, feel free to have a chat with my assistant. Given our past, I won't just ignore you."

I understood Nicholas's sarcastic tone perfectly. I lowered my voice and added, "Even if it's a 30-year case, I'm confident I can handle it."

He chuckled coldly and fell silent. I truly didn't hope for anything good for him.

A 30-year lawsuit would mean countless deaths tied to his name, assuming he had been killing continuously for three decades.

But Nicholas knew full well that I could do it. Everything I had now had nothing to do with him, and he couldn't accept that fact and just let it go.

He couldn't bring himself to wish me well, especially after how ugly their parting had been. My decisiveness had been brutal. Even now, I hadn't uttered a single "sorry" since we met again.

His heart felt as though two invisible hands were tearing it apart, pulling him in opposite directions-half agony, half relief. It twisted his face in the dark.

"You should leave now."

In the silence, I had no idea what Nicholas was thinking, nor did I care to know. The only thing I needed to understand was that he didn't belong here.

I picked up the glass I had set down for Nicholas, pouring out the water, hoping he'd get the hint not to linger.

But the moment I touched the glass, he moved. His large hand covered mine, gripping it tightly. The next second, my body was pulled uncontrollably into his chest.

I braced one hand against the couch, but my posture was anything but graceful. When I lifted my head to glare at him, I found myself staring into a pair of cold, merciless eyes.

The summer heat seemed to vanish in an instant as if we had fallen into an icy pit. The chill crept up from where he held my wrist, freezing me like a hard stone. I didn't know how I should react. Nicholas said, "Tomorrow at 9:00 a.m., meet me at my office."

Before I could refuse, he pulled out a worn agreement from his jacket. "Take a good look at this."

He let go of me after he finished. The thin papers fluttered to the ground, landing near his spotless shoes.

"Nicholas!" The polite smile I had been forcing nearly shattered. Why did every encounter with him have to be laced with humiliation? "I'm not looking at it!"

He didn't listen to a word I said. His

polished shoe nudged the corner of the document, leaving a dull mark on the paper. He stood up and walked toward the door, kicking the papers under the couch as he passed.

As he passed by, he stopped abruptly and wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me close. He looked down at me with a smile, his thumb deliberately brushing against my waist.

A shiver ran down my spine, spreading from where he touched me. I raised my hand to slap him, but he caught my wrist and pressed it against the wine cabinet. "Why are you so worked up?"

"Don't touch me!"

Nicholas raised an eyebrow and stepped back, raising both hands as if in surrender.

"You don't actually think I'm still interested in you, do you? Don't get the wrong idea. I only came by to compliment you. You've done a decent job running my Jones Corporation these past three years."

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He turned and strode out with an air of indifference, but a sense of foreboding rose inside me.

I rushed to block his path. "Nicholas, explain yourself! What do you mean by your 'Jones Corporation'?"

Nicholas's face was expressionless, but for some reason, I felt like he was laughing wildly inside. His tone wasn't harsh. In fact, it was soft and almost pleasant. "Tomorrow, I'll be waiting for you in my office."