THE SIN OF WANTING YOU

Chapter Two: After Midnight

Kensington, London — 12:17 a.m.

Sophia Roses had been home for less than twenty-four hours, and she was already reconsidering her decision to return to London.

Not because she missed New York. Not because her father’s insistence on having a driver available at all times was slowly destroying her independence. And certainly not because the heating in her bedroom seemed to have a personal grudge against her.

No. The problem was Nathan Jordan.

More specifically, the way one brief dinner had managed to occupy far too much space in her thoughts.

Sophia closed her laptop.

A cup of tea, she decided, would help.

She slipped out of her bedroom in an oversized cardigan over her camisole and shorts, intending to be quiet. The house was mostly dark, and the corridor was silent. She made it halfway down the stairs before she noticed a light spilling from the kitchen.

“Planning a midnight escape?”

Sophia closed her eyes briefly. Of course.

Nathan stood by the kitchen island with his jacket draped over a chair and his sleeves rolled to his forearms. A glass of water sat beside him. He looked as though he had been working, not preparing for bed.

She reached for a mug and opened the cupboard, only to find the tea tin on the highest shelf. She stretched for it, fingertips barely brushing the edge.

Nathan moved beside her. “Allow me.”

“I can get it.”

“I can see that.”

“Then you can also see I’m almost there.”

“Almost is a fascinating word.”

Before she could deliver a suitable reply, he reached above her and took the tin down. His sleeve brushed her arm. It was a brief, ordinary touch, but Sophia’s attention fixed on it as if the room had gone silent.

Nathan set the tin on the counter and stepped back.

“There.”

“Thank you,” she said, determined to sound normal.

“You’re welcome.”

She busied herself with the kettle, annoyed that her cheeks felt warm. Nathan returned to his water, giving her enough space that she could pretend she hadn’t noticed the moment at all.

“Did you enjoy being back?” he asked.

Sophia glanced over. “You mean dinner?”

“I mean London.”

“Yes. It’s strange, though. Everything looks familiar, but I don’t feel exactly like the person who left.”

“That’s usually what three years away does.”

“Did you miss me?”

The question escaped before she could stop it.

Nathan looked at her.

Sophia suddenly became fascinated by the tea bag in her hand. “I mean, did you miss having someone around to challenge your opinions? Someone who appreciates your excellent sense of humour?”

“Ah. Your absence was difficult for many reasons.”

She looked up, hopeful despite herself.

“Mostly the peace and quiet,” he added.

Sophia stared at him. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet you asked.”

“I regret it.”

“Good. Regret is an important life skill.”

Sophia poured hot water into her mug and leaned against the counter.

She watched the steam curl upwards. “When I was in New York, I thought coming home would make everything feel settled again.”

“Has it?”

“Not yet. I expected to walk through the door and know what came next.”

“Life rarely respects a schedule.”

“That’s inconvenient, coming from a man who probably schedules his breathing.”

“I leave room for emergencies.”

“Such as a missing tea tin?”

“A crisis of considerable importance.”

She smiled, then grew thoughtful. “I don’t want to make a mistake just because I’m eager to prove I can do this.”

“Then don’t confuse confidence with refusing to ask questions,” he said. “Independent people still need advice. They simply decide what to do with it.”

She absorbed that quietly. “I might take you up on the advice part.”

“You should.”

“Not the controlling part.”

“I’ll try to survive the distinction.”

The humour between them felt easy enough to trust. Sophia wanted to stay in that small pocket of the night, where she could speak honestly and Nathan listened without treating her like a child. She knew she couldn’t ask him to be anything more than he was. Still, being taken seriously by him mattered.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You usually do.”

“Are you seeing anyone?”

The question hung between them.

Nathan’s expression barely changed, but he took a moment before answering. “No.”

“Really?”

“Should I be?”

“No. I just thought you would be. You’re successful, attractive, and apparently incapable of sleeping at a reasonable hour. Surely someone has volunteered to improve your schedule.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Attractive?”

Sophia felt heat climb her neck. “I said successful first.”

“You did. But the other description was rather specific.”

“I was making an objective observation.”

“Of course.”

“Don’t look so pleased with yourself.”

“I’m trying to understand your research.”

“Forget I said anything.”

“I doubt that’s possible.”

She took a sip of tea that was still too hot and immediately regretted it. Nathan’s quiet laughter did nothing to improve her dignity.

“You haven’t answered my question,” she said, once she could speak comfortably.

“I did. I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Why not?”

“Because I haven’t met anyone I want to see.”

It was a simple answer. It should not have made her heart stumble. Sophia lowered her gaze to her mug, unwilling to let him see how much she wanted to ask whether he had ever considered her.

She couldn’t ask that. Not without risking the fragile ease between them.

Nathan was becoming aware of the danger in the conversation. He could see the curiosity in her face, but he didn’t know what she hoped to hear. He would not encourage a question he had no right to answer in the way he wanted.

“So,” he said, redirecting the conversation, “how far have you got with your business plan?”

Sophia blinked at the change of subject, then welcomed it. “I’ve drafted the services and the kind of clients I want to attract. I still need a clear launch strategy, a realistic budget, and a portfolio.”

“Have you researched your competitors?”

“I’m doing that.”

“Good. Don’t try to offer everything from the beginning. Choose a few services you can deliver exceptionally well, and build from there.”

She looked at him, forgetting to protect herself with a joke. “Thank you for taking it seriously.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because everyone else seems to think I’m still figuring out what I want.”

“You are figuring it out. That doesn’t mean you aren’t capable of building something while you learn.”

The words settled somewhere deep in her chest. Nathan hadn’t promised to fund her company or solve her problems. He had offered something she valued more: the respect of being treated as capable.

She smiled. “You can be surprisingly decent when you want to be.”

“Don’t tell anyone. It could damage my reputation.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

“I’m relieved.”

For a few seconds, neither spoke. Sophia felt the quiet differently now, as if the conversation had brought them closer to a place she wasn’t brave enough to enter.

Nathan checked his watch.

“You should get some sleep.”

She frowned. “You’re not my father.”

“No. Your father would have given you a lecture by now.”

“And you think ordering me to bed is better?”

“I’m suggesting you have a busy day tomorrow.”

“You’re suggesting it in a very bossy way.”

“I’ve been told it’s one of my strengths.”

“By whom?”

“People who value efficiency.”

“People who are afraid of you, you mean.”

He smiled. “Goodnight, Sophia.”

She had wanted him to stay. The realisation was so immediate that it frightened her.

“Goodnight, Nathan.”

She carried her mug to the sink, rinsed it, and headed for the door. At the threshold, she turned back.

“I’m glad you think I can do this,” she said, quieter now.

Nathan’s expression softened. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

She held his gaze for a second too long, then escaped upstairs before her face could betray her.

Nathan remained in the kitchen.

He finished his water, switched off the light, and went upstairs to his guest room. He had an early meeting and a full day ahead. He needed sleep, not complications.

Across the hall, Sophia lay awake beneath her duvet, replaying the conversation.

He wasn’t seeing anyone.

He believed she could build her business.

For one foolish moment, she had wondered whether his attention meant something more.

She pressed a pillow over her face.

She was not going to turn a late-night cup of tea into a love story. Nathan was her father’s best friend. More importantly, he had given her no reason to believe he wanted anything beyond friendship.

Downstairs, the house settled into silence.

Two floors apart, Sophia and Nathan stared into the dark, each trying to dismiss the same inconvenient truth: the conversation had felt far too natural, and neither of them wanted to admit how much they had enjoyed it.

For Sophia, the danger was hope.

For Nathan, it was the growing suspicion that keeping his distance would be harder than he had expected..