His Reluctant Desire

Chapter 9:Unspoken Jealousy

Chapter 9:Shadows of the Night

The soft hum of the car engine echoed in Kristy's ears as she reclined slightly in the backseat of Nathan's black luxury SUV. Her head throbbed mildly from last night's indulgence at Pluto Club, and her lips curled into a sly smile as she stared out the window. The memories of the night flashed in fragments—Nathan's warm breath on her neck, their drunken laughter, the way their clothes disappeared in seconds the moment they stepped into his mansion.

It felt just like the old times—wild, unplanned, irresistible.

Now, as the driver pulled up in front of her apartment complex, Kristy adjusted her sunglasses and glanced at her reflection in her phone's screen.

"Ma'am, we're here," the driver said politely.

Kristy pushed the door open, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Tell Nathan I'll be at the office shortly. And, um, don't mention anything to anyone."

The driver nodded wordlessly. Of course, he knew better than to gossip about the affairs of the Maxwells.

Inside her apartment, Kristy leaned against the door and exhaled. That night had meant something to her. No matter how much Nathan wanted to deny it or call it a mistake—she had felt something again.

Back at Maxwell Enterprise, Nathan sat in his office, eyes fixed on the large screen before him but his mind elsewhere.

Kristy. Again.

He ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated.

"Why did I let that happen again?" he muttered.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in," he said, quickly composing himself.

Brain stepped in, sir. Mrs Bennett is yet to resume. I tried calling her; she is not taking her calls. Xtie Global Oil sent an email requesting our proposal.

Send the email to me, Kristy is coming late today. Nathan said

Right away sir, Brian said and left the office.

Later that morning, Kristy arrived, all freshened up, confidently strutting into the office as though nothing had happened. Heads turned—mostly male—as she walked past in her cream-colored pencil skirt and fitted blouse. Her heels clicked with authority.

She stepped into Nathan's office without knocking, a smirk playing on her lips.

"I see someone's still trying to focus on work after such an unforgettable night," she teased.

Nathan glanced up. "Kristy, we're at work. Keep it professional." We have a proposal to send to Xtie Global Oil.

She rolled her eyes and walked closer. "Relax, I'm not here to jump on your desk. But come on, Nathan. Don't pretend. Last night—"

"—Was a mistake," Nathan interrupted firmly. "We were drunk, out of our minds. It shouldn't have happened."

Kristy blinked, wounded but masking it with a sarcastic laugh. "A mistake? Nathan, that night was special to me. You can't say you felt nothing."

Nathan sighed. "You know what hurts? You keep bringing up that night like it means something. But I was vulnerable. I had just visited my dad at the office. You invited me over, offered me wine, and the next thing I knew, we—"

"Made love like two hungry birds," Kristy finished, her voice soft.

Nathan stood from his desk. "Exactly. That night was never supposed to happen. And neither was last night. Kristy, you're talented at your job, you've grown with this company, and honestly, you're part of this legacy. But please, don't make me question my father's dying wish."

Her smile faded. "So you're only keeping me here because of your father?"

"I'm keeping you here because you're capable," Nathan said, walking over and adjusting the blinds. "But I won't let our past or your fantasies cloud what we're trying to build here."

There was silence for a beat.

Nathan shot her a warning look. "Kristy, get back to work. I want that proposal finalized before noon. We have targets to meet."

She opened the door, pausing before stepping out. "You can push me away all you want, Nathan. But deep down, you know there's still something here."

The door clicked shut behind her.

She was nobody. Just a maid. But… she wasn't blind to the way her heart fluttered when Nathan smiled at her. Or how her chest warmed each time he asked if she'd eaten or offered her a rare compliment. Maybe she was foolish, but a part of her had hoped…

---

At the office, Nathan was unusually quiet. His employees noticed the shift, but no one dared to speak. He sat behind his massive desk, flipping through reports, but his mind wasn't on the quarterly numbers. It was on last night.

He remembered the way Kristy looked at him, the way she whispered, "You haven't changed, Max," while they lay tangled in his bed. But as the alcohol wore off and morning came, regret started to trickle in.

Not because he didn't enjoy it — Kristy was wild, familiar, and seductive — but because it didn't feel right anymore. Something in him had shifted.

And worst of all, when he thought of home, it wasn't Kristy's perfume he wanted to smell. It was the scent of vanilla soap that always lingered around Emily.

But she was the maid.

She wasn't flashy, didn't flirt, didn't chase him like the rest. Yet she stayed in his head. And he didn't know why.

---

By evening, Nathan returned home early — a rare move. He needed the silence, the comfort of his space.

As he entered the mansion, he loosened his tie, and the scent of warm soup greeted him. He walked toward the living room and found Emily bent slightly, arranging throw pillows. She looked up in surprise, not expecting him until much later.

"Good evening, sir," she said quietly, avoiding his gaze.

Nathan nodded, dropping onto the couch with a heavy sigh. "I didn't expect you to still be working. It's almost dinner time."

"I was just tidying up," she replied, standing upright and brushing invisible dust off her apron.

The room grew quiet.

Emily didn't ask about his day. She didn't ask if he was hungry — she didn't trust her voice not to betray her pain. Nathan watched her for a moment. Her face was distant. Something about her was... off.

He cleared his throat. "Did you eat today?"

She nodded. "Yes, sir."

Another pause.

"You're angry," he said bluntly.

She flinched slightly, then frowned. "Why would I be?"

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "I'm not a fool, Emily."

She met his eyes for the first time — a storm of emotion swirled in hers, but she blinked it away. "Neither am I, sir."

Nathan stared at her a little longer, but she bowed her head again and moved toward the kitchen. "I'll serve your dinner."

As she walked away, he rubbed his temple.

Why did her silence feel heavier than Kristy's laughter?

---

Later that night, Nathan lay in bed staring at the ceiling. The house was quiet, but his mind was loud. Emily's avoidance stirred something unsettling in him. She had always been respectful, gentle… even sweet. Now she was cold, professional, and withdrawn.

And somehow, that hurt more than he cared to admit.