Chapter 44: The invite
The steady rhythm of tapping keyboards and muffled voices barely registered as Nicholas Carter sat in his corner office, high above the city skyline. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the distant horizon, but his attention wasn’t on the view or the reports stacked neatly on his desk. He stared at his monitor, a blank document open, the cursor blinking impatiently—mocking him.
He hadn’t typed a single word.
His jaw clenched, fingers tightening around the sleek armrests of his chair. His mind kept circling back to her. Ella.
This morning, her scent had lingered on his shirt—faintly floral with a touch of vanilla. He’d held her all night, thinking for a fleeting moment that the wall between them had cracked, even if just slightly. That maybe, just maybe, she was starting to let him in.
But then morning came—and everything shattered.
The way she pulled away from him like his touch burned. The way her eyes went guarded again, her voice cold and distant. It was like waking up with a stranger in his arms. One moment he was her anchor; the next, he was the storm she was running from.
He exhaled through his nose, dragging a hand down his face.
Idiot.
He should’ve known better than to hope. Ella wasn’t like other women—she wasn’t someone who gave her trust freely, and certainly not someone who felt safe when things got intimate. If anything, she seemed to retreat the moment things became too real. Too honest.
Still, he couldn’t pretend it didn’t cut him.
He wasn’t used to that feeling—the sting of rejection. Nicholas didn’t get pushed away. He was the one who made people bend, who decided when to close the door. But with her, none of that seemed to matter.