Chapter 171
A lazy, arrogant voice came through the phone. "You finally decided to let me meet your sister?"
Sawyer didn't answer. He simply hung up.
The next morning, when Elizabeth saw Sawyer in the dining room, he looked no different than usual.
His suit was perfectly pressed, his hair combed back without a strand out of place, and he even had the presence of mind to pull out her chair and pour her a glass of milk.
Still, Elizabeth couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. His smile was too perfect, perfect like a mask. His tone was too gentle, like the calm before a storm.
"We're having a guest today." Sawyer spoke casually as he cut into the fried egg on his plate.
Elizabeth looked up. "What guest?"
Sawyer smiled. "The one I mentioned to you last time. Nathan Turner."
Elizabeth's hand paused midair. She set down her knife and fork and looked at Sawyer, her voice quiet but ice-cold, "I told you, I'm not meeting him."
Sawyer didn't look at her. He went on cutting his egg, his tone still mild. "Elizabeth, I'm not asking."
Elizabeth's breath hitched for a split second. She looked at Sawyer, at that faint curve of his lips, and suddenly she understood. This wasn't a discussion; it was a notice. Whether she agreed or not, that man was coming. She could refuse to see him, she could lose her temper, she could slam the door and walk out. But if she did, Sawyer would make sure she understood that he was not someone you defied without consequences.
She drew in a long breath, forcing every surge of emotion back down. "What time?"
Sawyer raised his head, met her eyes, and smiled gently. "Three in the afternoon. Wear the blue dress. You look good in blue."
Elizabeth said nothing. She lowered her gaze and went back to her breakfast, but she couldn't taste a single thing on the plate.
At three o'clock in the afternoon sharp, Nathan appeared at the castle gates.
He was younger than Elizabeth had imagined, looking just past thirty, tall and broad-shouldered, with a striking face. His dark brown hair was slicked back neatly, and he wore a perfectly tailored navy suit. His cuff links were white gold set with diamonds, catching and scattering the sunlight with every movement.
His smile was polite and well measured, but his eyes were laced with arrogance, his chin tipped up just slightly whenever he looked at someone, as if he were assessing an item with a price tag.
Sawyer came to the door himself to greet him. The two men shook hands and exchanged pleasantries, giving the impression of an easy familiarity.
Nathan's gaze slid past Sawyer's shoulder and landed on Elizabeth, who was standing on the steps.
He looked her over from head to toe, his eyes lingering on her face longer than was necessary, and then the corner of his mouth lifted in a satisfied smile.
"Sawyer, your sister really lives up to her reputation." His voice wasn't loud, but it was pitched just right for Elizabeth to hear.
Elizabeth stood there in the blue gown Sawyer had specified, her hair swept up into an elegant chignon, a sapphire necklace—also a gift from Sawyer—resting against her collarbone.
She looked like a carefully wrapped present, waiting for someone to tear the wrapping off.
She hated that feeling.
Sawyer led Nathan toward her and stepped slightly aside to make the introduction. "Elizabeth, this is Nathan. The Turner family is one of the oldest families in Italy. Nathan is their eldest son and the future heir."
Nathan extended his hand to her, his smile gentle. "Ms. Windsor, I've heard so much about you."
Elizabeth looked at that hand, hesitating for a moment before finally lifting her own to give it a brief, light shake, then letting go at once. "Mr. Turner."
Nathan's fingertips traced lightly across her palm, a touch that carried a faint, deliberate hint of intimacy.
Elizabeth's brows drew together, almost imperceptibly, but she didn't react.
Sawyer watched from the side, the smile on his lips deepening. "Let's go inside and talk. The tea's already prepared."
The three of them went into the living room and took their seats.
The staff brought in refreshments. Fine cups were filled with black tea, steam curling up in pale ribbons. Sawyer and Nathan fell into a discussion about business, while Elizabeth sat to the side, sipping her tea in silence, not in the mood to say a single word.
Nathan, however, clearly had no intention of leaving her alone. After they had chatted for a while, he suddenly turned toward Elizabeth, a hint of amusement playing in his smile. "Ms. Windsor, I heard you've recently taken over most of the Scott family's assets in Italy?"
Elizabeth set down her cup and said calmly, "Sawyer gave them to me."
"Mr. Scott is generous." Nathan lifted his own cup and took a small sip. "But Ms. Windsor is still young, and doesn't have much experience. Managing that many assets can't be easy, can it?"
Elizabeth looked at him. "Do you have any advice, Mr. Turner?"
Nathan smiled. "I wouldn't call it advice. I just think a beautiful woman like you shouldn't be wasting her time on those boring ledgers and reports. Women are better off finding a good home, you know? Settling down, raising kids, living a peaceful life."
Elizabeth's fingers tightened around the fabric of her skirt for a second, but her face remained composed. "Is Mr. Turner worrying about me now?"
Nathan's smile broadened. "Mr. Scott mentioned to me that he wanted to find you a suitable match." He paused, letting his gaze roam over her face—"I think we're a very good match."
Elizabeth looked at him and said nothing.
Nathan went on, his tone carrying a natural, unshakable sense of entitlement. "Ms. Windsor, you know perfectly well what your situation is. You have no foundation in Italy—no network, no real power. Mr. Scott isn't in good health. If, one day—and I do mean if—something happens to him, how are you, on your own, supposed to hold up such a huge fortune?"
He set his cup down and leaned forward, his eyes fixed intently on her. "You need a husband. A husband with status, with standing, with the ability to protect you. And I need a wife. A wife who's pretty, young, and can give me children."
His gaze dropped to Elizabeth's lower abdomen, and his lips curved in a meaningful smile. "If we get married, your assets will still be yours. I won't touch them. As for that son of yours, I don't mind him. I'll put food on the table for him and raise him to adulthood. That's more than generous. As for the future..." He chuckled softly and left the sentence hanging.
Elizabeth's fingers clenched tighter around her skirt. She could feel a wave of fury surge up from deep inside her, hot enough to make her whole body tremble.
She took a deep breath and was just about to speak when Jack's voice suddenly rang out from the doorway. "Mom!"
Elizabeth turned and saw Jack standing there, dressed in a tiny suit, a drawing clutched in his hand, his eyes curved into happy crescents as he grinned. "Mom, look! Jack drew this! It's you and Uncle Sawyer and Jack!"
He ran in and threw himself into Elizabeth's arms, holding the drawing up for her to see. On the paper, three stick figures with wobbly lines were standing hand in hand in front of a castle, all of them smiling brightly.
Holding him, Elizabeth felt the blaze of anger in her chest suddenly smothered by a sharp, aching tenderness. She lowered her head and kissed his hair. "Jack, that's really good."
Nathan watched the scene, his brows pulling together slightly, though his smile quickly returned.
He bent down to look at Jack, his tone carrying that same patronizing, superior sort of kindness. "You must be Jack? You really do look like your mom."
Jack shrank back into Elizabeth's arms, peeking at him nervously and saying nothing.
Nathan didn't seem to mind. Straightening up, he looked at Elizabeth and said, "He's still little. He doesn't know any better. When he grows up, I'll make sure to teach him well."