Chapter 103 Chapter 103
What Caroline didn't know was that Nicholas hadn't pulled away out of disgust. He had pulled away out of guilt. He couldn't face her knowing that he was the nightmare she hated so much.
Nicholas lay silently for a long moment, his chest rising and falling heavily. The atmosphere in the room, once electric with desire, was now charged with suffocating tension.
Slowly, he sat up on the edge of the bed, running his hands over his face as if trying to clear the confusion from his mind.
“I remembered I have some urgent documents to review,” he said, his voice hoarse, without looking at her. “I'll need to spend some time at the office.”
He stood up and began buttoning his shirt with mechanical movements, listing distractions as if trying to fill the void between them:
"There's a computer on the desk, the password is 5555. You can use it at your leisure. If you get bored, there's a private cinema on the first floor; let Enrico know and he'll set everything up for you. If you want some fresh air, ask one of the maids to accompany you to the winter garden.
He paused, finally turning to face her.
“Also... I asked them to prepare a complete wardrobe for you. Designer clothes, shoes, handbags... all from the new season. If you don't like something, throw it away and ask for new ones.”
“I'll be home late tonight. Don't wait up for me. Go to sleep if you're tired.”
Caroline remained lying motionless. Her fingers clutched the silk sheet so tightly that her knuckles were white.
She felt an icy chill spread where his body heat had been.
She took a deep breath, fighting the lump in her throat, and forced the corners of her mouth into a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
“Um, I understand.” Her voice came out small but controlled.
Nicholas frowned when he saw that fragile smile. He sensed the pain hidden there and felt a sharp pang of guilt in his chest.
“Caroline.”
He leaned in, pulling her into a strong but chaste embrace. He kissed her forehead lingeringly, a gesture of respect and apology, not passion.
“Don't let your imagination run wild,” he whispered against her skin. “I'm telling you the truth.”
I don't care about your past. It's just... critical issues have arisen at the company that can't wait.
“I know,” Caroline interrupted him softly. She didn't want to hear any more excuses. It would hurt less if he left soon. “I won't think nonsense. You can go to work, I understand perfectly.”
Nicholas moved back a little to look into her eyes, searching for the truth.
“You're really not upset?”
He knew it was hard for her to believe. Stopping at the height of intimacy, right after such a vulnerable confession, seemed like the definition of rejection.
But he couldn't continue. Not now.
Knowing that she hated the man from that night—knowing that she hated him without knowing it was him—took all his spirit away. He felt like a criminal touching his victim. He needed time to process this guilt.
“Really!” Caroline kept up her mask of the understanding wife. “You explained your reasons. Work is work.”
“My dear...” Nicholas held her face with both hands, his gaze intense. “Listen carefully: you are the most important person in my life. The place you occupy in my heart hasn't changed one bit. I'm not going to divorce you because of this. Never think that word again.”
He paused, making sure she absorbed the next promise.
“And as for Sara, don't worry. I am a man of my word. Tomorrow I will arrange everything for her surgery. Nothing has changed.”
“Hmm.” Caroline nodded obediently. “I understand.”
“Do you believe me?” he insisted.
“I do.”
“You won't keep coming up with theories in your head?”
“I won't.”
“You're not lying to me to make me happy?”
“I'm not!” She almost laughed in despair. Please leave before I break down.
“Very well.”
Nicholas let out a sigh of relief. He gave her one last affectionate pat on the head and kissed her cheek.
“So... I'm going to the office.”
“Hmm.”
At the door, he stopped and turned around, as if he needed to offer further proof of his commitment.
“Isn't Sara being discharged tomorrow?” he asked. “I canceled my morning meetings. I'll be free. Let's go pick her up together.”
Caroline's eyes sparkled slightly with surprise. “The doctor said she can leave tomorrow, yes.”
“Great.” Nicholas smiled that charming smile that made her weak in the knees. “When she gets out, let's throw her a welcome home party. What do you think?”
“Sure. That would be great.”
Nicholas watched her for another second, reluctant to leave her alone but unable to stay. Finally, he left, closing the door softly behind him.
Click.
The moment the lock clicked, Caroline's smile vanished like smoke.
The room, once filled with tension and promise, now seemed vast and cold.
She sat on the bed, pulling her knees to her chest and hugging her legs. She sat there, motionless, staring into the void for a long time.
As she suspected... he despised her.
He could shower her with gold, designer clothes, and sweet words, but his actions spoke louder.
He comforted her, yes. He was kind, yes. But he stopped.
A man with the desire he displayed would not stop in the middle of the act for “work” unless the desire had died. Unless her confession had been a bucket of cold water.
He thought she was dirty.
It was all within expectations. It was logical. It was rational.
She was no longer pure. She had been touched by a stranger. It was natural that a man like Nicholas Wolf, the prince of the city, would feel uncomfortable touching what another had already used.
She should be relieved. The contract was still in place, her sister's surgery was guaranteed, and she didn't have to “pay” with her body.
It was the perfect scenario.
So... why was there a sharp, throbbing pain in her chest?
Caroline touched her face and realized her cheeks were wet.
She was crying.
She thought she didn't care. She thought her heart was armored.
But as she felt the loneliness of that huge bed, the cruel truth hit her:
She was sad because, deep down... she wanted him to stay.
She was sad because she was falling in love with him.
Nicholas stood motionless in front of the floor-to-ceiling panoramic windows. The reflection of his tall, imposing silhouette blended with the night sky of São Paulo and the cold glow of the moonlight.
He frowned, swirling the glass of red wine in his hand, watching the scarlet liquid dance. Guilt gnawed at him, but his possessive nature fought against it.