Chapter 170 A Predator Lying In Wait
As Nate’s words settled, an eerie silence took over the table–so quiet that the faintest
movement could be heard.
All eyes shifted toward Corrine, their gazes laced with intrigue.
Everyone seated with Quentin had close ties to the Seymour family, making them well -acquainted with Nate.
The fact that the usually detached Nate had personally extended an invitation only
heightened their curiosity.
Under their scrutiny, Corrine’s lips curved into a composed yet enigmatic smile as she
approached the chair he had pulled out for her with effortless grace.
“Corrine!” Carl’s voice suddenly rang out–firm, not quite reprimanding, but his displeasure was unmistakable.
She turned toward him, her expression calm.
At first, she had merely suspected that her grandfather harbored some kind of grievance against Nate, but now she was certain. He clearly didn’t approve of her getting too close to him.
Could it be that he knew Nate was her boyfriend?
Her instincts, however, told her the situation was more complicated than that.
Carl met her questioning gaze, immediately realizing his reaction had been too abrupt.
Recomposing himself, he softened his tone and said smoothly, “That’s not your seat, my dear. Come sit by me instead.”
“No need for that,” Nate interjected, his voice steady. “Miss Holland and I seem to have a lot in common. I’d consider it a privilege to have her by my side.”
With no room to argue, Carl was forced to let it go.
As Corrine lowered herself into the seat, Nate’s crisp, woody cologne wrapped around her, its cool undertones distinctly masculine.
Instinctively, she stole a glance at the man beside her.
He had just begun rolling up his sleeves, unfastening his diamond cuff links with practiced ease. His forearm, corded with prominent veins, radiated quiet strength–like a predator lying in wait, exuding an undeniable authority.
“Miss Holland, do you have something to say to me?”
Nate’s voice was smooth, yet the weight of his words commanded attention. Every pair
of eyes at the table turned toward them–including Carl’s.
Corrine, ever observant, caught the subtle flicker of unease in her grandfather’s expression. Suspicion stirred in her mind.
Was there something between him and Nate that they were keeping from her? Now
wasn’t the time to press for answers,
Composing herself, she offered Nate a poised smile. “I appreciate your kindness, Mr.
Hopkins.”
Behind her, Matias nearly fumbled the water jug, his wrist shaking mid–pour..
His gaze darted to Corrine, a mix of surprise and uncertainty flashing in his eyes. What
exactly was she playing at?
Nate lifted his gaze at her words, his dark eyes settling on her with quiet intensity. After a moment of scrutiny, the smirk at the corner of his lips deepened. “You’re
welcome.”
His presence cast a certain tension over the table, making even casual conversation
feel restrained.
It wasn’t until Fatima, draped in a gown, arrived with the groom that the mood finally
shifted.
The younger guests all stood, raising their glasses–everyone except Nate.
Yet, not a single person dared to question it.
He wasn’t someone they could afford to offend.
Fatima hesitated for just a moment when her gaze landed on him, and then a knowing
smile curled her lips. “Mr. Hopkins, here alone tonight? Where’s Moses?”
“Fatima, mind your manners,” Quentin chided, his tone edged with quiet authority.
But Fatima remained unfazed.
As the only daughter in her generation of the Seymour family, she was treated like royalty.
It was no secret that part of Quentin’s family’s standing in Lyhaton stemmed from the affection the Seymour family’s main branch had for Fatima.
Having grown up alongside Moses, she had always been surrounded by powerful men
-Nate included.
