Chapter 4 Powerful Figure

"Roselyn." Nathan looked down at her, his tone cold and distant, his eyes carrying an unmistakable air of superiority.

Roselyn recalled the night before-how he'd held her, how he'd promised to repay her if she helped him. But when the memory of his people tracking her down that morning, demanding the bank card back and accusing her of theft surfaced, her frustration finally boiled over.

"Here, take it back." Roselyn yanked the solid gold card from her pocket and flung it at Nathan.

The card smacked him directly in the face, leaving a vivid red mark on his otherwise flawless features.

The bodyguards, the butler, and the maids all gasped, a cold shiver creeping over them as they watched Roselyn cross a line she clearly didn't see.

Nathan's jaw tightened, his deep-set eyes clouded with rage. A frigid, crushing pressure seemed to roll off him.

Sebastian moved first, gesturing briskly to the bodyguards nearby.

Before Roselyn could react, the bodyguards grabbed her and forced her in front of Nathan.

"How dare you! Who gave you the nerve?" Sebastian scolded in a low voice, glaring sharply as he approached her. But when Nathan's icy gaze shifted toward him, he instantly lowered his head. "Sir..."

Nathan's brow creased slightly, and he signaled the bodyguards to let her go. His sheer presence was so commanding that no one dared breathe.

Once freed, Roselyn appeared slightly indignant. She bit her lip, and though her starry eyes shimmered with unshed tears, they burned with unwavering defiance. "Keep your false kindness," she shot back. "I've returned the card. Next time, don't let your people call me a thief."

Sebastian's fists clenched at his sides. If Nathan hadn't forbidden them from touching her, he would've made sure this defiant woman paid for her insolence.

Nathan glared at Roselyn with an intensity that made her heart race. His eyes never wavered, piercing through her with unrelenting focus. The bitterness and frustration of the morning lingered, but under his unflinching stare, she dared not let them show.

She had already returned the card. She told herself to dismiss the label of "thief" as a cruel joke, as it deserved no more than a brief, frustrated thought.

"Sebastian, take her to the living room." The command shattered whatever resolve Roselyn had left to retreat.

His voice, deep and magnetic, sent a tremor through Roselyn. With purposeful strides, he moved forward, his long legs encased in tailored suit pants as he entered the estate, while the bodyguards forcefully pulled her along behind him.

They arrived in the living room, where she saw him standing tall by the expansive window. The servants had quietly slipped away, leaving just the two of them in the room's stillness.

Nathan stood with his back straight, one hand casually tucked into his pocket. The space between them may have been more than a meter, but the pressure he exuded was suffocating-his presence absolute, his authority unmistakable. The quiet, oppressive solitude of being alone with him stole her breath away.

Roselyn swallowed, the courage she had earlier mustered now slipping through her fingers. She could hardly speak.

Nathan's lips barely parted, his voice steady and cold, his gaze never wavering. "Tell me who told you to return the card and accused you of theft?"

His question brought all the resentment she had worked to hold in check flooding to the surface-especially the memory of his people threatening her using her grandfather. In that moment, her frustration boiled over. She sprang forward, her small frame rushing to headbutt his chin.

A large hand gripped her neck, halting her mid-air. Nathan's hold was firm, the sheer strength in his fingers making her feel as small and helpless as a child. He squeezed, and a sharp gasp escaped her lips.

"It hurts! Let go!" she cried, flailing her arms. But the difference in their strength was too vast; she couldn't budge him at all.

The more Roselyn dwelled on it, the sharper her anger became. She swung her leg at Nathan in a forceful kick.

Nathan's frown deepened, and with quick reflexes, he sidestepped her attack. Her foot narrowly missed his groin.

His eyes, piercing and unyielding, remained on her. The chill in his eyes intensified with every passing moment. Roselyn, unfazed by the danger, pressed on, testing his boundaries.

"Roselyn, know when to quit while you're ahead." Nathan's voice was low, dark eyes locking onto hers with an unmistakable warning.

The pain in Roselyn's neck flared, and she fought to hold it back, her vision blurring as tears threatened to spill. She scoffed, bitterness lacing her words. "That's rich coming from you. You're the one full of lies. Just last night, you solicited my assistance and willingly handed me that bank card. If you think this is your idea of a joke, then please know when to quit while you're ahead."

Her chest tightened with the weight of the injustice. She had given him her first time-and now his people were treating her like a criminal.

She had let out too much too quickly, and the emotional toll left her momentarily drained. After a deep breath, she straightened, forcing the strength back into her voice. "Sir, I've returned your bank card. Now, can you tell your people I'm not a thief?"

Her grandfather's words echoed in her mind-one could be poor, but not immoral.

She hadn't done anything wrong, not this time.

"Someone come here," Nathan called sharply.

Sebastian stepped into the doorway, standing with a respectful demeanor. "Mr. President, how may I assist you?"

"Mr. President?" Roselyn's mind went utterly blank, her thoughts stumbling over each other. She had to have misheard him.

Oh God. What kind of powerful figure had she just set off?