Chapter 20 Chapter 20
Caroline knew she was beautiful—but she also knew that beauty, in Nicholas Wolf's world, was commonplace.
Stunning women surrounded him. Prestigious, influential, educated, powerful women.
Compared to them, what was she?
It didn't make sense.
None at all.
Nicholas leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs elegantly.
His gaze, deep as an abyss, rested on her.
“Do you really want to know?” he asked, his voice low, almost challenging.
She nodded.
“I do.”
His lips curved into a half-smile—not ironic, but laden with something indecipherable. “Maybe it's because you're the only woman who doesn't repulse me.”
Caroline blinked, surprised.
“What...?”
Nicholas rested his chin on his fingers, his gaze serious.
“Apart from you, every woman who gets too close makes me uncomfortable,” he explained bluntly. “Irritated, sometimes even... repulsed.”
He paused briefly, watching her reaction.
“But with you... it's not like that. When you're close, I feel calm. Curious, even.” His voice grew softer. “That's why I thought we could try living together for a while. Maybe then I'll find out why.”
The silence between them stretched on.
Caroline watched him, trying to find any trace of irony or provocation. But his gaze was steady. Honest.
He really meant it.
José had said something similar before—about Nicholas being indifferent to any woman. Caroline hadn't believed it.
But now, hearing it from his own lips... she knew.
It wasn't a lie.
“You... didn't have to marry me,” she finally said with a sigh.
She frowned, confused. “You should look for someone you really like. Even if you haven't found her yet, you will one day.”
Nicholas tilted his head, curious. “Like?” he asked, his eyes half-closed. “And what does that mean, Caroline?”
She faltered.
“It's...” she began, searching for the words. “It's when you miss someone even when you don't see them. When you see them, your heart calms down... and at the same time, it races.”
Nicholas said nothing, just watched her.
Caroline continued, her gaze lost somewhere on the plate.
“When you like someone, you want to be close to them, you want to share everything with them,” she said, almost in a whisper. “When you're happy, you want to tell them. When you're sad, you want their comfort.”
She paused. “And when you see them...” She hesitated, feeling her face flush. “Your heart beats faster, your cheeks turn red, and...”
Suddenly, her voice trailed off.
Silence fell between them.
And then, like a bolt of lightning, the realization of what she was saying hit her.
She looked at him—and saw it. Her heart was beating fast.
Her cheeks were flushed.
Her hands were sweaty.
Her breathing was shaky.
Exactly as she had described.
Wait...
Does that mean...
The blush spread across her entire face.
Did she like Nicholas Wolf?!
How was that possible?!
Caroline quickly looked away, her heart in despair. Meanwhile, Nicholas continued to watch her—and the discreet smile at the corner of his mouth told her that he had understood everything long before she realized it.
Caroline coughed softly and looked up.
Her teary eyes met his—beautiful, cold, and unbelievably close.
Her heart, already beating wildly, raced even faster.
As she remembered what she had just said, a sudden panic gripped her chest.
“I... I was talking blindly!” she stammered, blushing to her ears.
Nicholas Wolf watched her silently, his gaze intense and thoughtful.
After a few seconds, he leaned slightly, resting his chin on his hand. “If two of those conditions you mentioned are true,” he said calmly, “does that still count?”
“Huh?” Caroline blinked, confused.
He pursed his lips and, with a seriousness that made her heart flutter, replied:
"I miss you when I can't see you. When I see you... I want to be close to you.
I want to touch you.
I want to do something intimate with you.
He leaned in, his voice dropping to a hoarse, magnetic tone:
“Caroline, does that mean I like you?”
His words hit her hard.
Caroline froze.
Her entire face caught fire—hot, as if it had been burned from the inside.
“N-Nicholas Wolf, you... don't play with me!” she murmured, her voice trembling.
“It's not a game,” he replied, looking directly at her.
There was something dangerous and true in that look.
Raw, deep desire.
“Caroline,” he murmured, his voice low as a confession, “I want you so much.”
Her heart skipped a beat.
The air seemed to thin.
“You...” she tried to respond, but the words were lost.
His intense, burning gaze held her where she stood.
Caroline felt her legs weaken and, overcome with nervousness, she suddenly stood up.
“I... I'm going to the bathroom!” she said, and practically ran away from the table.
Cold water ran through her fingers.
Caroline splashed it on her face several times, trying to dispel the heat that seemed to come from within.
Only when her skin began to cool did her heart slow down—but not for long.
His words echoed, low and dangerous, inside her head:
Caroline, I want you so much.
The deep sound of that voice seemed to be stuck in her skin.
She covered her face with her hands, feeling the heat return.
“What kind of man says something like that... like that?”
His voice still vibrated in her ears, as if he were there, whispering.
Caroline took a deep breath and was about to leave when she heard a voice behind her:
“Sister? Is that you?”
She froze.
It can't be.
Was bad luck following her there?
She turned slowly, her heart sinking—and yes, it was her.
“It's you!” said Claire Ford, approaching with a critical look. “What are you doing here? Did you make an appointment?”
Caroline sighed, too tired to pretend to be polite.
“What does it have to do with you?” she replied curtly. “Get out of my way.”
Claire narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms.
“Sister, this is the most sophisticated restaurant in São Paulo. You have to make reservations six weeks in advance. And the minimum charge is five figures per person.”
“Given your... circumstances,” she said with a fake smile, “I doubt you can afford dinner here.”
Caroline lifted her chin, her gaze cold as steel.
“Oh, really?” she replied calmly. “So what?”
Claire's expression faltered for a moment. Then she regained her sweet tone—the kind of sweetness that poisons.