Chapter 22 Chapter 22
She wasn't the type to start fights.
But if someone started one... she would never back down.
She took a step forward, pushed Claire lightly with her hand, and walked past her without even looking at her.
Claire spun around, furious.
“Caroline Ford!” she shouted, her voice echoing through the bathroom. “You'll come crawling back to beg me! I'll be waiting!”
Caroline didn't even bother to respond.
She walked out with her head held high, her steps firm.
As she left, the first thing she saw was a male figure leaning against the wall.
He was standing there—as if waiting for her.
A tall man, about 6 feet tall, wearing a perfectly tailored black suit.
His long legs crossed casually, one hand in his pocket, the other relaxed at his side.
Nicholas Wolf.
Even standing still, he radiated presence. His head tilted slightly downward, his strong jawline outlined in the light, his nose straight, his lips firm—a touch of discreet red on his full lips, which seemed dangerously seductive.
Even without showing his entire face, the outline was enough to attract everyone's attention.
And, in fact, it did.
Several women passing by slowed their pace.
Some pretended not to notice; others did not.
The curious glances, the stifled giggles, the blushing faces.
One of them, more daring, approached with a shy smile.
“Handsome guy...” she said, her voice trembling. “Can we meet?”
Nicholas looked up. A cold, impersonal, cutting look.
“No.”
The word sounded dry, definitive.
The girl froze, her face red with embarrassment.
Caroline, standing a few feet away, watched the scene with a mixture of embarrassment and... surprise.
It was inevitable.
A man like Nicholas would attract attention anywhere.
He was the kind of presence impossible to ignore—elegant, mysterious, with an air that blended power and danger.
A “walking male hormone,” as they said.
But what really impressed her was the way he rejected her:
bluntly, without forced politeness.
Direct.
Raw.
Even a beautiful woman like that was dismissed with a single word.
Suddenly, Caroline realized the contrast.
He could be cold to the whole world... but never to her.
The woman, humiliated, still tried to insist:
“But... why?”
Caroline, without realizing it, leaned in a little, curious for the answer.
And then, Nicholas raised his head.
His eyes—deep, dark, intense—met hers.
It was as if time had stopped.
Caroline froze in place.
The air seemed to disappear from her lungs.
The corners of his lips curved slightly—a small, dangerous smile, full of meaning.
And in that instant, without saying a single word, Nicholas Wolf answered the woman's question.
Because it was crystal clear:
he wasn't looking at anyone else.
Only Caroline Ford.
The layer of coldness that always surrounded him disappeared in the blink of an eye.
Nicholas Wolf slowly raised his body, the movement controlled, full of natural elegance. He straightened up, uncrossed his long legs, and began to walk—step by step—toward Caroline.
The rhythmic sound of his footsteps echoed down the hallway.
Before she could react, he was already in front of her.
The tall, imposing shadow fell over her, blocking all the light.
Then Nicholas wrapped his arms around her in a firm, natural gesture.
His low, hoarse voice sounded close to her ear:
“Darling, why did you take so long in the bathroom?” he asked, his tone mixing reproach and tenderness. “If you hadn't come out, I would have gone to get you.”
The way he said darling made her heart skip a beat.
Not far away, the woman who was still standing watching the scene understood everything immediately.
The envious and humiliated look she gave Caroline said more than any words could.
Unable to bear the embarrassment, she looked away and hurried off, her heels clicking on the marble.
Caroline followed the woman with her eyes and blinked, confused. “Who is she?” she asked hesitantly. “Do you know her?”
The girl was beautiful—young, elegant, the kind of woman who would naturally attract the attention of any man.
Nicholas followed her gaze and replied casually, his tone impassive:
“I don't know her.”
Caroline stared at him suspiciously. “But... I saw you talking.”
He paused for a moment, then a deep, amused laugh escaped his throat.
“Are you jealous?”
Her face flushed immediately.
“N-no!” she replied too quickly. “I was just asking... out of curiosity. I'm not the type of person who gets jealous over a conversation.”
She had no right to feel that way.
After all, their marriage was nothing more than an agreement.
A name on paper, nothing more.
She knew very well that it wasn't love.
But Nicholas Wolf seemed to think differently.
He leaned in slightly, his gaze sharp as steel.
“Yes, you can,” he murmured, seriously. “You can be petty, you can be jealous.”
Caroline's eyes widened.
“Caroline,” he continued firmly, “we are now husband and wife. You are my wife.
And if you think I'm too close to another woman, you have every right to be angry.”
His voice was calm, but each word carried a possessive weight that made her heart race.
Caroline's eyes met his—dark, intense, dangerous.
And for a moment, she forgot to breathe.
Nicholas chuckled softly and turned her around, guiding her back to the restaurant.
“But you don't need to worry about that woman.” His tone returned to casual. “She just came over to make conversation. I don't really know her, and I'm not interested in that type.”
He paused, his lips curving into a discreet smile.
“As you can see, she's already gone.”
As they walked side by side, he added:
“Now that we're married, it's my responsibility to act like a husband.
You can rest assured—I won't get involved with anyone out there.”
He paused for a moment, glancing at her. “Besides...”
Caroline turned her face, curious.
“Besides what?”
Nicholas looked down at her.
His eyes sparkled with an indecipherable gleam—a mixture of desire and veiled tenderness.
“Besides...” he said slowly, “that woman isn't even a tenth of you.”
His smile widened.
“My standards aren't that low.”
Caroline's heart, which had just calmed down, raced again.
Her breathing became uneven, and her face inevitably flushed again.