Bound by Desire

Chapter 1

Inside the Presidential Suite of The Bernard Inn—

Several meticulously configured cameras were strategically placed around the room, capturing every angle, their lenses focused on a luxurious bed surrounded by eight heavily made-up women. All eyes were riveted on a singular captive—Nathaniel Hawthorne.

Nathaniel Hawthorne, a business legend in Brentwood, was the president of Empire Holdings—a man who embodied wealth, fame, power, and charm—a real diamond among men. He was the type of man that socialites and aspiring influencers coveted, yet he had always remained resolutely aloof regarding women.

On the very first day back in the country, Evelyn Rivers made it her mission to get close to him—to become his wife, no matter the cost.

The surreal atmosphere was thick with desire, yet it didn't faze the orchestrator of this bizarre encounter. Evelyn was perched on the edge of an elegant sofa, her long, seaweed-like hair cascading down her chest. With her red lips pursed in focus, she was intently applying nail polish as if it were a delicate art form, her demeanor utterly calm.

Only after finishing her last nail and admiring her handiwork did a smirk play across her lips. The color? A blood-red she adored.

Feeling satisfied with her "creation," Evelyn tucked her nail polish away and casually swept her hair back. She stood up, sauntering over to where Nathaniel lay bound in rough ropes at the center of the suite, his impeccably tailored attire now rumpled and creased. His dark, piercing eyes shone with a cold fury as he regarded her approach.

Stopping beside Nathaniel, Evelyn locked eyes with him for a moment before slowly crouching down beside him. Her red-tipped fingers glided over his handsome features with a touch both possessive and seductive. “Nathaniel Hawthorne, if you want to marry me, you’ll have to choose: her bed or our wedding.”

Her seemingly innocent expression belied an undeniable ownership.

Familiarity washed over her as she glanced at the man who had first awakened her heart only to throw her into a pit of despair. Nathaniel turned his face away from her touch, his anger barely restrained behind a facade of indifference. “Evelyn Rivers, after six years, this is all you’ve learned to do?”

Evelyn didn’t flinch at his avoidance. Retracting her hand, she chuckled softly with a hint of arrogance. “I may not have your skills, but I did capture your heart, and here you are, powerless. So who really is lacking skill?”

If looks could kill, Nathaniel would have launched a thousand daggers at her.

He shifted his gaze towards the women around the bed, a blanket of contempt settling across his features. “And what if I choose neither?”

The room's atmosphere grew tense, the weight of his words making the air even thicker.

Evelyn’s smile faded as she stepped back, calmly pouring herself a glass of water. “Choose? A night with eight women or a night being shared with eight women. Which headline do you prefer?”

Six years ago, he claimed he would not settle.

Now, six years later, she was determined to force him to do just that.

Known for his aversion to female company and his rigid dating principles, Nathaniel had no ground to stand on.

Upon hearing her challenge, Nathaniel furrowed his brow, the muscles at the corner of his mouth twitching in frustration.

“Take a minute to think it over; the choice is yours,” Evelyn continued, swigging from her glass. “Of course, if you’re simply not willing to marry me, there’s always a second option. I won’t mind. I doubt they will either.”

As she gestured toward the women, their eyes sparkled with glee.

“Oh yes, we wouldn’t mind at all…”

“Not at all!”

The eager chorus from the women made Nathaniel feel trapped beneath the weight of expectation. He felt the pressure of their tantalizing presence, each moment spent with them now a test of his endurance. There was no way he could continue with this charade much longer.

The perfume thickened in the air, assaulting his senses.

At that moment, every fiber of his being urged him to escape this nightmare.

He believed she was capable of the unthinkable, which was made evident by his current bound state—utterly powerless to fight back against the reality she had created.

Chapter 2

“Excellent,” Evelyn Rivers said, satisfied with Nathaniel Hawthorne's compliance. She casually grabbed a folder from a nearby table, pulling out a contract she had prepared.

She returned to Nathaniel's side, kneeling down to place the contract beside his right hand, then handed him a pen. “Since you’ve agreed to marry me, it’s time to sign.”

The marriage contract.

As Nathaniel’s eyes glanced over the words, a smile crept across his face.

“What’s so funny?” Evelyn asked, intrigued.

“Evelyn Rivers, you really have some guts,” Nathaniel shot back, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Evelyn chuckled, her beautiful eyes sparkling with a blend of mischief and innocence. “Thank you for the compliment; it’s truly an honor.”

Had she disappointed him? Yet, in truth, she had prepared thoroughly for such a moment. Nathaniel Hawthorne was a master manipulator in the empire, a cunning fox hiding deep in the shadows. If she hadn’t come equipped with a full arsenal of tools, how could she have dared to confront him so boldly?

Before he could rally any resistance, she was calling the shots. Once he regained that power, how could she assert her authority? She recognized her own position perfectly.

Seizing the moment of his vulnerability, she was daring enough to make a play, but that was her strongest card now.

As Nathaniel spoke, he shot a piercing glance at Evelyn, showing no emotion as he accepted the pen from her hand. With a firm stroke, he signed his name, tearing through the pristine paper as he completed it.

“Now that you’ve signed, you can let them go,” he said coldly.

“Of course,” Evelyn replied, glancing at the women waiting at the side. A glimmer of satisfaction flickered in her eyes as she turned back to them, “You can leave. Your payment has been credited to your accounts. Enough for a comfortable life abroad.”

Hearing that their payment was confirmed, the women’s faces lit up with excitement. With a few lingering glances back at Nathaniel, they quietly made their exit.

“Looks like you thought this through,” Nathaniel scoffed.

Evelyn instantly caught his meaning and flashed him a playful smile. “You know what they say, ‘If you walk by the river often, you can’t avoid getting your shoes wet.’ With someone like you, Nathaniel Hawthorne, now that they are out the door, there’s a good chance you’ll seek revenge on them tonight. I couldn’t bear the thought of my key ally suffering your wrath.”

Collecting the contract, she strolled to the window, slipped her bag over her shoulder, and tucked the contract inside.

“Twenty minutes from now, someone will come to escort you home. I’ll take my leave first.” With that, Evelyn flashed him a bewitching smile, ignoring the intensity of Nathaniel's gaze, and turned toward the door. As she walked out, she called over her shoulder, “By the way, I’ll be moving into Hawthorne Manor as Mrs. Hawthorne.”

“Bang….”

Once out of the room, shutting the door behind her felt like shedding a weight. Evelyn let out a deep breath, feeling an overwhelming sense of release.

Adjusting her outfit, she put on her sunglasses and stepped out in dazzling high heels, striding gracefully away.

Nathaniel Hawthorne—six years of preparation, all for this beginning with you—

Staring at the closed door, Nathaniel’s lips pressed together, deep in thought. He knew of her recent return, but not in such an unexpected way, especially with this elaborate “reunion surprise.”

Later that night, at Hawthorne Estate.

Nathaniel sat with crossed legs on the Brentwood sofa, a cigarette dangling from his fingers as he stared into the haze of smoke at the photograph on the table. A chilling aura surrounded him.

Finally, his gaze landed on a picture of a heavily made-up woman flirting with a blonde man. The woman in the photograph was none other than the one who had orchestrated this all earlier that day—Evelyn Rivers.

—

The next morning.

When Evelyn Rivers entered the grand foyer of Hawthorne Estate, carrying a suitcase, Nathaniel was already seated at the dining table, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, casually scanning the newspaper.

Ignoring the curious, scrutinizing glances from the household staff, Evelyn removed her sunglasses and walked straight to the dining table.

Sitting down across from him, her relaxed demeanor projected confidence. Despite Nathaniel’s unwavering focus on the paper, it didn't faze her.

With an overly polite and radiant smile, she addressed the butler, “Could you please take my suitcase to the master bedroom? Thank you.”

Her tone was casual, as if she were making a simple request, but it felt more like a bombshell hitting the room, leaving Stewart Percy—who stood by bewildered—reeling.

Chapter 3

**The Master Bedroom**

If Percy wasn’t mistaken, that was Nathaniel Hawthorne’s room.

He stole a glance at Nathaniel, who was still absorbed in his newspaper, and then at Evelyn Rivers, who was giving off fierce enemy vibes. Percy felt trapped, caught between an uncomfortable situation, unsure of what to do next.

“What’s wrong? Can you hear me?” Evelyn raised an eyebrow, her expression challenging.

“Sir.” According to the usual protocol, a strange woman shouldn’t stay in their home. He should’ve kicked her out, just like they’d always done.

But this woman bore a familiarity with Nathaniel that seemed undeniable. She wanted him to carry her suitcase into the master bedroom. Logic screamed for him to leave this hot mess for Nathaniel to figure out. If he intervened and messed it up… well, his life would get a whole lot more complicated.

Nathaniel set his newspaper down and glanced at Percy.

Though it was just a non-expressive look, Percy felt the air grow heavy with tension.

Nathaniel turned to Evelyn, his gaze icy. “I agreed to marry you, but I didn’t agree to share a room.”

He had allowed Vivian to enter, but sharing a bedroom with Evelyn? That was another thing entirely. This was the biggest concession he could make, and he hoped she wouldn’t push any further.

In that moment, Percy felt a wave of relief; that was a close call. In those five minutes, he had imagined countless scenarios about Evelyn and Nathaniel's relationship, yet this was an outcome he never expected.

Evelyn, taken aback, tried to provoke him with a smirk, “What’s the matter? Not confident enough? Or are you afraid I might discover something?”

So clever that she only accepted marriage to stop her from sneaking into his bed. Why go through all this trouble to marry him if she just wanted to occupy his home?

Now, with a single statement about the bedroom arrangement, he was supposed to send her packing without so much as consulting her? What did she have to say about it?

Percy knew he was beet red, too intimidated to say a word.

Much to Evelyn's surprise, Nathaniel remained unfazed. He picked up his coffee, took a slow sip, and then said to Percy, “Take her suitcase to the guest room.”

That was it. Other decisions about who stays where were not up to her.

“Sure,” Percy responded, relief flooding through him. He dashed to the living room, grabbed Evelyn’s bag, then rushed upstairs.

Evelyn watched her suitcase being carried away as if she had just thrown a punch into cotton candy.

But then, she had an idea.

If she could get into Nathaniel Hawthorne’s home so openly, she could just try another approach. If it came down to it, she was confident she could find her way onto his bed.

---

That night, in the guest room of the Hawthorne Estate, by the grand European-style windows, stood Evelyn Rivers.

Her wavy, flaxen hair cascaded over her shoulders, reaching down to her waist. She wore a form-fitting strapless dress that hugged her curves, and held a delicate wine glass filled with crimson liquid. Her porcelain skin gleamed, accentuated by an elegant ambiance.

She was fixated on the main entrance of the Hawthorne Estate, her eyes never wavering.

Since dinner, she had been standing there unmoving, until a glimmer in the darkness drew her attention. Her lips curled into a knowing smile.

---

In the master bedroom, on the soft white sheets, Evelyn rested on her side, her head propped on one hand, sipping from her wine glass while her gaze followed the sound of running water in the bathroom.

Her luscious red lips, reminiscent of blooming roses, savored the wine as she discreetly placed her glass on the nightstand, her empty hand draping casually across her flawless legs, her smile one of mischief.

At that moment, she looked like a siren who thrived in the depths of night.

Nathaniel emerged from the bathroom, rubbing his damp hair with a towel, and paused as he caught sight of Evelyn lounging in bed, frozen in his tracks.

She sprawled temptingly, issuing an unspoken invitation that made his chest tighten. Yet, as alluring as she looked, a flicker of distrust shadowed Nathaniel’s face. He recalled the playful moments he'd seen in photographs of her with a golden-haired, blue-eyed rival, a storm gathering behind his eyes.

“Are you leaving willingly, or do I need to have somebody escort you out?” His voice, cool and smooth, bore an edge that could slice through ice.

Chapter 4

The pain in Nathaniel Hawthorne's lower lip froze him in place, his eyes burning with intensity. Both adversaries were locked in a tense moment, lips nearly touching.

Evelyn Rivers, mischief dancing in her eyes, taunted him by brushing her tongue lightly across his lips, a calculated challenge. Feeling the spark of her teasing, Nathaniel reached out, his hand landing firmly on her curved hip as he playfully squeezed, a mild form of punishment.

Watching Evelyn furrow her brow in response to the gentle pain, Nathaniel couldn’t help but grow bolder; his hand slipped beneath her skirt, igniting a jolt of surprise that made her body tense involuntarily.

Pleased with her reaction, he pulled back, a smug grin spreading across his face as he beheld her flushed cheeks. He squeezed her flesh with a little more force, teasingly saying, “Evelyn Rivers, if you want to be in my bed, you’re going to need to up your game.”

The sharp ache in her thighs sparked a mix of indignation and realization. Did he think she was going to just give up now? They had come this far, so why would she back down? If she was climbing into his bed, he wouldn’t get to escape until she got what she wanted.

With renewed determination, Evelyn disregarded any lingering embarrassment. She reached around his neck and leaned in once more, her lips aiming for his. This was her moment; proximity was her greatest weapon. As long as she could draw him close, he would be hers, a step deeper into her intricate plans.

But just as her lips were about to meet his, she felt an all-too-familiar cramp clench in her abdomen. The sharp twist of pain distorted her expression, and she withdrew her hand gently to cradle her belly before letting herself sink back onto the bed.

In that brief moment, Nathaniel pulled back and swiftly grabbed a scarf he’d slung aside, binding it around his waist again. He shot her a sharp glance, his cold eyes noting the peculiar look on Evelyn’s face, and when they landed on the spot she was holding, his smirk was almost cruel. “Next time you want to climb into a guy’s bed, pick a better day.”

Already discomforted, her cheeks burned hotter under his mocking words. Glaring at Nathaniel, Evelyn snapped back, “Not that it's any of your business.”

With that, she pushed herself off the bed, still cradling her stomach, and ignored his snickering as she headed towards the door. She had to retreat to her own sanctum.

Once back in her space, Evelyn felt utterly deflated. As she lay across her bed, she was plagued by the thought of her relative’s untimely visit. Why tonight, of all nights? She had been ready to seize a moment that could have been perfectly orchestrated with Nathaniel.

His taunt about choosing a better day echoed relentlessly in her mind, stirring up her frustration further. She sat up, pacing her room cluttered with disappointments, desperately searching for distraction to douse her irritation.

Rummaging through her nightstand, Evelyn’s eyes caught on a delicate hairpin—a remnant from the previous occupant of this space. A familiar rush of jealousy twisted in her gut.

Nathaniel wasn't just some fleeting attraction; he had spent time with another woman before her. Had this woman shared his bed? Did she enjoy breakfast with him every morning? Was she the one Nathaniel deemed worth compromising for?

Suddenly, Evelyn’s thoughts were interrupted as Nathaniel appeared beside her, his expression darker than usual. “What are you doing?”

It seemed he had returned just as the realization of the previous resident settled like a shadow between them.

Chapter 5

Evelyn Rivers shot a glance at Nathaniel Hawthorne, ignoring him completely as she ordered, “Chop that nightstand up and use it for firewood.”

Nathaniel, glancing at Percy who stood nearby, quickly pulled Evelyn aside. “It’s the middle of the night! What on earth are you doing?”

He expected her discomfort to lead her back to bed, but it was obvious he had underestimated her. What was this spectacle she was making?

“How do you know I’m making a scene?” Evelyn shot back, meeting his gaze with defiance. “You told me to sleep in the guest room. Now that I’m here, it’s my room, and I can do whatever I want, can’t I?”

With that, she flung his hand off her arm.

“Do all of these need to be replaced?” Percy asked, gesturing to some of the furnishings in the room, trying to gauge her intent.

“Yes, everything has to go,” Evelyn replied curtly. She then muttered to herself, “I’m not using anything that’s been touched by the other woman.”

Her last remark, though whispered, didn’t escape Nathaniel’s ear. He shot her a piercing glare before choosing to disengage and leaving the room.

Once she sensed he was gone, Evelyn turned her head, shooting a knife-like glare at his retreating back.

To ensure everything was disinfected and replaced, the entire staff of the Hawthorne Manor, except for Nathaniel, ended up staying with her until the late hours.

Before dismissing them, she generously compensated each worker for their time. They insisted they didn’t need it, but she firmly insisted on giving them something.

As she surveyed the now pristine room, a wave of satisfaction washed over her.

It seemed her obsession with emotional cleanliness was shared—she was no different from Nathaniel in that regard.

After all the chaos, fatigue finally set in, and she lay down in bed, ready to sleep. Just as her eyelids grew heavy, a knock interrupted her thoughts: “Knock, knock…”

Getting up, she opened the door to find a woman in her fifties, whom she recognized as Aunt Clara, smiling at her with a cup in hand. Clara offered it with a kind grin as if it was a treasured gift.

Evelyn felt puzzled but accepted the cup, noticing it was filled with warm brown sugar water.

She didn’t recall asking for this, did she?

As she opened her mouth to inquire, Clara gestured for her to drink it while it was still hot. Immediately, Evelyn realized that this gesture came from someone who had served her well. The question she had wanted to ask got stuck in her throat, and all she could say was, “I can drink it. You should go rest now.”

Clara nodded with a smile and turned to leave.

Closing the door behind her, Evelyn walked straight to the lavatory and poured the brown sugar water into the toilet before flushing it down.

Aside from Nathaniel, who else knew about her discomfort? She couldn’t believe that the man was genuinely concerned for her well-being.

Did he think he could embarrass her through such roundabout means?

---

After that tumultuous night, Evelyn experienced the deepest sleep she had had in while, drifting into a beautiful dream.

Time reversed to six years ago when she was merely a naive girl, beaming with laughter, following the charismatic Nathaniel Hawthorne around, the epitome of a devoted shadow.

In her dream, he showed her a unique tenderness and patience that was distinctly his own. He never tired of picking up the pieces of her mess, indulging every bit of her whims and tantrums.

Importantly, her two older sisters were there, and so was her father.

The sensation was profoundly real.

But such impeccable dreams have a tendency to ensnare a person in their beauty, making it nearly impossible to wake up.

When Evelyn finally awoke the next morning, the sun was already high in the sky. Sitting on the soft, white bedding, she pondered her dream, and her features darkened, becoming somber and heavy. —

The dream was as beautiful as her reality was cruel.

The more she wished for the dreamscape, the more she loathed the orchestrator of her downfall.

Nathaniel Hawthorne, the entirety of the Rivers Estate, was all his doing.

What she owed was something she would eventually have to repay.

With that in mind, she inhaled deeply as if new life surged through her veins. She lifted her chin, donning a confident and proud smile, as if her earlier somber expression had never resided on her face. Throwing off the covers, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood tall.

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