Chapter Thirty-Nine Abby

I'd spent the day doing something I never expected: getting to know this man.

And was there an easier way than going through his belongings?

I moved quietly through Nathan's apartment, a silent observer in a world that wasn't mine. The sunlight poured in through floor-to-ceiling windows, catching on the lush leaves of countless plants and throwing dappled shadows across the sleek marble floors. It was a jungle in here, an oasis of green thriving amid the stark modernity.

I traced my fingers over the spines of books lining his shelves, half-expecting to find some secret switch or hidden compartment. But all I found were titles that spoke of a man who craved knowledge, from philosophy to botany. It was so strange. I wonder when he had time to read.

Slipping into his bedroom, I felt dwarfed by the sheer luxury of it. His clothes hung meticulously organized in the walk-in closet—an array of designer brands that whispered wealth and power. Loro Piana, Tom Ford...names I knew, but then there were others, stitched with elegance I couldn't pronounce. I plucked at the fabric of a cashmere sweater; the price tag alone could cover my rent for a year.

I couldn't help but scoff softly. The man ran a flower shop, yet he lived like this? That was a dumb cover, and Nathan didn't strike me as dumb. So there had to be something to that.

His watches gleamed under the soft lighting, rows upon rows of meticulous craftsmanship. Shoes lined the floor below, leather polished to perfection.

Wrapped in the comfort of my own sweater, I caught a whiff of something musky, something intimately Nathan, and I froze. How could I still be carrying the scent of our last encounter when I had so many reasons to scrub him off me? Shaking my head, I pushed away the thought and focused on the task at hand.

A deep breath steadied my nerves as I began my real mission: surveillance. The cameras were subtle, hidden within the intricate design of the apartment. I made mental notes of their positions, mapping out blind spots and calculating angles. But when I stumbled upon another room–I didn't know what it was–the door was secured with a keypad and my heart sank. Another barrier between me and freedom.

"Damn it," I muttered under my breath, pressing my ear against the cool metal, as if I could hear the secrets locked within. I was an FBI agent, trained to find a way out of any situation. But Nathan had built a fortress, not just around his home, but around his heart—and I was trapped inside both.

I pushed the unease aside and retreated back to the ostentatious closet, where rows upon rows of clothes hung with militant precision. Nathan had bought me activewear—tight leggings and a breathable top that felt too expensive for sweat. With a grimace, I slipped into them, my skin still crawling from his unwanted generosity.

I found my way to his home gym and ran, letting the rhythm of my footsteps drown out the chaos in my head. I opened the windows so I could feel the air in the room. I thought it might make me feel better, but it was just a bitter reminder that freedom was just an illusion.

I needed a moment, just one moment of solace. The bathroom beckoned like a sanctuary. I let the water run, steam clouding the mirror as I sank into the bath. The warm bubbles embraced me, a tender touch that soothed the now-fading bruises he'd left on my body while I was in that empty apartment building.

Now I was here–in a gorgeous apartment with everything I could ever need. This…it was getting too comfortable. I had been waiting so long to make a move, languishing in my job at the café–and now, I was here in Nathan's house, and I had to admit that I liked it. I toyed with the pendant at my neck, sliding the chain around to look at the clasp. Or…not a clasp–a lock.

It wasn't a necklace; it was a collar.

My core clenched at the realization, the reminder of how fully I belonged to him. My fingers trailed down my torso, between my legs–

"Abby?" Nathan's voice cut through the calm, reverberating against the tiled walls.

"Up here!" I called out, my voice steady despite the tremors of anxiety that threatened to break through.

Nathan's heavy footsteps approached, each thud in sync with the beating of my heart. I watched the door, the glass of it fogging with humidity, distorting his form as he paused on the threshold.

"Hey," I said, feigning nonchalance. "How was your day?"

"Awful," he admitted, his silhouette leaning against the door frame. "I'm in deep shit with my father."

For a moment, I saw vulnerability flash in his eyes before they darkened, not with regret, but with something more primal. His gaze fixed on me, lingering on the curves the soapy water couldn't hide.

"Oh, no. Do you want to–"

His eyes flickered back to my body, as clear as interruption as if he'd said it out loud. "Touch yourself," he commanded, his voice rough, betraying no sign of joining me.

My fingers hesitated above the water, my mind racing.

So much for talking.

"Is that what you want?" I asked, fighting to keep my voice level.

"Yes." There was a cold resolve in his answer, a distance that told me he wasn't really here with me. He just wanted to watch.

My fingers curled tightly around the porcelain edge of the tub, the chill seeping into my bones. I forced a smile, convincing myself that this was just another trial to endure, another layer of Nathan Zhou to unravel. But…I wanted this, too. As soon as I had seen him standing there, my body had tingled with anticipation.

"Then watch."

I slid my hand down my breasts, tracing the curve of my waist, teasing him with every languid movement. His dark eyes followed, intense and unblinking. A part of me reveled in this strange power, the ability to hold his attention hostage with just a touch.

With each passing second, the water seemed to grow hotter, steam rising in thick clouds that did nothing to hide me from his gaze. Heat bloomed under his unwavering scrutiny, spreading from my chest to the tips of my fingers and toes.

My fingers were on my clit and I was humming softly before I realized what I was doing. Nathan just watched, his gaze dark and hungry. A rush of power surged through me, the control intoxicating, almost more so than the self-inflicted pleasure. I was so wet, so close to coming already, even though I had just started, and Nathan was transfixed. I knew he wanted me, could practically feel the desire radiating off him.

"Keep going," he said.

I pressed a finger inside myself. "Okay," I said. "Is this why your day was bad? ‘Cause you wanted to rush and come back here?"

"No," he breathed softly. His dark eyes never left my body, drinking me in as I continued to touch myself. "My day was bad because of other things. But seeing you...it's the only good thing about it."

I bit back a smile, my heart hammering wildly against my ribs. The water sloshed gently around me as I moved, making soft sounds that echoed in the steam-filled silence. His eyes were hot on my skin, they felt like they were setting me on fire.

"You're sure you don't want to get in with me?" I whispered.

He hesitated before shaking his head ever so slightly. He was still fully clothed whereas I was bared for him completely. "No...I want to watch you."

"You sure? Because I think this bath has room for two."

He smiled, softly, sadly even. "Watching you come...it's my favorite thing in the world," Nathan said, his voice a low rumble that seemed out of place in the quiet room. He walked over, sitting on the closed toilet, running his hand through his dark hair. "My day was bad because I talked to my dad. He's under a lot of stress and...I don't know. My father—his expectations are clear," he began, his eyes never leaving mine. "He'd have preferred I killed you."

The words hit me harder than any physical blow could. My hand stilled. My heart raced, not with desire, but with a sudden, chilling fear. "Do you think he'll send someone after me?" I asked, trying to sound braver than I felt.

"Did I tell you you could stop?"

"No," I murmured, forcing my hand back into motion. My fingers brushed against my clit, sending a jolt of pleasure spiraling through me. I tried to focus on that, the comforting rhythm that kept me grounded and distracted from the terrifying reality Nathan had just dumped in my lap.

He watched as I resumed, his gaze intense, his lips curled in a ghost of a smile. "You're beautiful when you're scared," he said, his voice dangerously low. It was a haunting statement, one that sent a shudder down my spine.

I gasped, partly because of the escalating pleasure and partly from the rawness of his words. My free hand gripped the edge of the tub to steady myself as I quickened my pace.

But the fear lingered, gnawing at the edges of my mind. I forced it back, refusing to let it take over. "Nathan," I whispered breathlessly. "Will your father kill me?"

Nathan shook his head slowly, his black eyes intense. "No. You're back in play now. Killing you would just put a bullseye on our backs. You're safe, Abby. I swear on my life, no one will touch you."

His assurance should have comforted me, but instead, it left me feeling more rattled. My fingers stilled in the water, and I watched him warily. He was a man capable of unspeakable violence, yet here he was, vowing to protect me.

It made my head spin.

And it scared me–because, to my surprise, I was afraid of him getting hurt. I didn't want to lose him.

"Thank you," I managed to whisper, not trusting myself to say more. Nathan's presence enveloped me, as potent and inescapable as the dark world we both inhabited. And despite the danger, I couldn't deny the pull I felt towards him—a pull as reckless as it was irresistible.

"But you have to be careful," he continued gravely.

A soft moan escaped me as another wave of pleasure pulsed through me. He watched intently, his gaze darkening further.

"You can come now," he said.

"You're giving me permission?" I asked, a note of challenge in my voice. My fingers didn't let up on their relentless pace, the pressure building within me teetering on the edge of release. His dark eyes flickered with amusement, but he didn't break his intense gaze from mine.

"I don't give you permission," he said, his voice thrumming with authority. But there was a smile on his face, and I was pretty sure this was his version of…playful. It was strange, but it was working for me. "I'm ordering you."

The command, coupled with the sheer intensity of his gaze, was enough to send me over the edge. I cried out, clutching the edge of the tub for support as pleasure rippled through me. My vision blurred as I rode out the waves of my climax, my heart pounding in my chest.

As I came down from the high, panting heavily and trying to steady my racing heart, Nathan's intense gaze never left me. The corners of his mouth were turned up in a small smile, an odd mix of satisfaction and something I couldn't quite place.

"You're such a good girl," he murmured, his voice carefully casual. He leaned forward, tucked a strand of wet hair behind my ear.

"Can you help?" I asked, my voice barely above a hush. It was a gamble, reaching out like this, but it was one I needed to take.

"Help?" he asked. "Isn't telling you to come enough help? Because it seems like it is."

I laughed. "Your father, you idiot. Can you help your father?"

Fuck, I'd fucked up. I insulted him, I had overplayed my hand, I was going to pay for it…

But he relaxed, laughing, throwing his head back. "Honestly, I don't know."

I kept staring at him as he brushed another wet strand behind my ear, and another, and another, as if he was smoothing paper out, his fingertips tracing delicate lines across my skin.

"Maybe you can help. If he's less stressed, he won't take it out on you."

He paused, his brow furrowing as if he were sifting through a sea of dangerous secrets. The silence stretched, and I could almost hear the cogs turning in his head. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and steady. "We've got trouble. There's a rat in the organization, hitting our money-laundering operations."

I kept my expression neutral, though inside, the gears of my own mission clicked into place. "Maybe I can help you figure it out," I suggested, as casually as I could muster.

"What do you know about money laundering?"

"I watched Money Heist like eight times," I answered quickly—too quickly. "After dinner?"

He laughed again. "Dinner?" He raised an eyebrow, the tension in his jaw easing slightly. "Oh, right. Shit, your dad. Where are we going?"

I pulled away from him, feeling the weight of my next words. "There's this little spot in the Tenderloin, the Copper Spoon. My dad and I go there all the time when he's in town." It sounded so mundane, so normal.

Nathan's face twisted with distaste. "I'm not much for diners," he admitted, his lips curling into a half-smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Remember, we're playing it casual. We can't go to a Michelin star restaurant yet, though I expect you'll take me there, what, next weekend?"

He laughed again. Fuck, I loved making him laugh…but I loved staying alive more, I reminded myself.

"Casual means dinners with my dad," I reminded him, standing my ground. "And right now, Nathan, it looks like you're going to have to play by my rules."

"Your rules, huh?" His smirk blossomed into a grin, surprisingly genuine. "Alright, Abby. Lead the way."

And then he grinned, and I felt a little guilty.

But I needed to come out of this alive. And he…he deserved this. He deserved me playing him anyway.

Right?