Nicholas's car glided smoothly through the city streets, its sleek black frame cutting through the post-rain haze like a shadow. Ella sat quietly in the passenger seat, her hands folded tightly in her lap, her gaze fixed on the blurred reflections of neon lights dancing across the wet pavement. The inside of the car was quiet, filled only with the hum of the engine and the soft rhythm of the rain still clinging to the windows.
Nicholas glanced sideways at her. "You're quiet," he said, his voice calm, almost coaxing.
"I'm just tired," she replied, not looking at him.
He didn't press, letting the silence settle again, but his eyes lingered on her a second longer than necessary.
As they neared the gates of his estate, the world around them shifted from city grime to manicured luxury. The gates opened automatically, revealing a long driveway lined with trimmed hedges and glowing garden lights. The mansion came into view, a breathtaking sight of glass, stone, and old-world elegance perched against the night sky.
Nicholas brought the car to a gentle stop in the circular driveway, then stepped out. Before Ella could open her door, he was already there, pulling it open with a practiced ease and offering his hand.
"Back home safe and sound," he said with a teasing lilt, eyes twinkling under the overhead lights.
Ella stared at his hand, then raised an eyebrow and got out on her own. "I don't think I'd call this place 'home,' but thanks for the ride," she muttered.
Nicholas chuckled and closed the door behind her. "One day you will. You'll be begging me to stay."
She shot him a look over her shoulder. "In your dreams, Nicholas."
"Every night, sweetheart," he said under his breath as he followed her inside.
The warmth of the mansion embraced them instantly. A butler appeared, his steps silent, taking Ella's coat with a bow. She mumbled a thank-you, still taking in the grandeur of the high ceilings, the intricate moldings, and the soft glow of chandeliers that sparkled like stars.
Nicholas leaned casually against the wall, watching her. "You know, you're making that face again."
"What face?"
"The one that says, 'This is way too much for me, and I'm pretending I don't like it.'"
Ella turned away. "It is too much."
"Good thing I'm all about excess," he replied with a grin.
Before she could snap back, Nicholas's phone buzzed in his pocket. He slipped it out, and the moment he glanced at the caller ID, his expression changed. The softness vanished, replaced by a sharpness that made the air feel colder.
"Excuse me," he said, walking a few steps away as he answered the call.
"Yes?" His voice was low, edged with steel.
"Boss," came the voice on the other end. "We found him. Ryan. Down at the old mechanic's warehouse by the docks. You want us to bring him in?"
A slow smile curled Nicholas's lips, but it wasn't pleasant. It was the kind of smile that made enemies disappear. "No," he said, voice like ice. "I'm coming."
"Understood."
He hung up and slipped the phone back into his pocket, already shifting into another version of himself—cool, calculating, dangerous. When he turned, Ella was watching him from across the room, her arms folded.
"Who was that?" she asked, her voice casual but her eyes sharp.
Nicholas walked past her to grab his keys from the marble counter. "Duty calls."
Ella tilted her head, amused. "Wait… you have a job?"
He raised a brow, grinning. "You sound surprised."
"I mean…" She gestured around them. "You live in a mansion, dress like a Bond villain, and talk like you own the world. You don't exactly scream 'working class.'"
He shrugged into his coat and smirked. "I work hard. Just… not conventionally."
She squinted at him. "So what do you actually do? Run a company? Smuggle diamonds? Spy for the government?"
Nicholas stepped closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I keep people."
She blinked. "Keep people?"
He nodded, serious for a beat. "Keep them alive. Keep them quiet. Keep them from doing something stupid. Depends on the day."
Ella rolled her eyes. "That's not ominous at all."
He leaned a little closer, his voice dropping into something more dangerous. "Sometimes I remove problems."
She gave him a flat stare. "You mean like… mafia hitman vibes?"
Nicholas's lips twitched. "Now that would be telling."
"You're impossible," she said, brushing past him.
"And you married me anyway," he called after her.
"I was drunk."
Nicholas laughed. "Excuses, excuses."
She paused at the stairs and looked back at him. "Will you be long?"
He hesitated, his face softening. "I won't take longer than I have to."
There was something raw in the air between them then—something unspoken. Ella nodded and disappeared up the stairs. Nicholas lingered for a second, staring after her, then exhaled and left.
Outside, he slid into the driver's seat, the cold night air wrapping around him like armor. As he pulled away from the mansion, the man who teased Ella faded into the shadows, replaced by the Nicholas Hart his enemies feared.
Tonight, Ryan would learn what happened when someone touched what was his.