Shattered Then Healed By His Love (by Haley Blanton) novel Chapter 143

Natalie dipped her head slightly, a polite smile tugging at her lips. “Alright.”

The client had barely stepped outside when a solid wall of muscle blocked her view.

Before she could even look up, a strong arm slid around her waist and pressed her back against the wall; a knee nudged forward, and with a sharp kick, the door behind her swung shut.

The sound echoed through the quiet space, sharp and jarring.

“Who was that?”

The deep timbre of Marcus‘ voice rumbled above her head.

Pinned against the wall, Natalie felt her body tense; she could barely move. Lifting her gaze, her eyes met his–dark, cold, and sharp enough to cut.

“Client,” she blurted out.

His brows pulled together, a deep furrow cutting across his forehead. “Client? You bring clients home?”

It hit her then–Marcus didn’t know she still did restoration work; as far as he was concerned, she was only a traditional medicine practitioner. Calling someone a client sounded misleading.

“Yes,” she said quietly, slipping out of his hold and heading toward the stairs. Changing the subject, she asked, “What brings you here so suddenly, Mr. Collins?”

Marcus followed her up the steps. “I came to see the child.”

Her steps faltered on the spiral staircase. “That’s… unfortunate timing. Lucy just took her out for a walk; they probably won’t be back for another half hour.”

He didn’t answer, just kept moving up the stairs on his own.

“Mr. Collins,” she called after him, “those are all bedrooms upstairs. What are you doing?”

He stopped and glanced back at her, his gaze sharp. “If those are all bedrooms, then what were you and your client doing up there?”

Natalie froze, realization dawning. He’d misunderstood–completely.

When they reached the second floor, his eyes caught on the grand piano in the sitting room.

Without a word, he glanced at it, then moved toward it.

Natalic followed his gaze.

The piano had been a gift from Jackson for Aiden. After they’d left, they’d bought a new one and hadn’t bothered to take this with them; it had been sitting here, untouched, for years.

Marcus leaned casually against the side of the piano, his eyes fixed silently on the door to the master bedroom.

She hesitated. The vase restoration was due tomorrow, and she still had hours of work left tonight if she wanted to finish in time.

Natalie froze. So this was what he thought.

A sharp, unexpected ache twisted in her chest, deep and raw–like someone had slammed hard into the softest part of her heart.

The hurt was sharp, bitter, impossible to ignore.

Her lips curved in a cold, almost mocking smile. “So this is what you think of me, Mr. Collins?”

For a moment, he was silent; his dark gaze locked on hers, unreadable.

“I do have other work,” she said, her voice steady but quiet, “but it’s not what you think. It’s a legitimate job and nothing like the business you’re imagining. Please don’t throw around baseless accusations; they’re hurtful.”

She shoved him back and turned, heading for the stairs to the third floor.

But before she could take another step, his hand clamped around her wrist from behind.

In the next instant, she was lifted clean off the floor and set down on top of the piano; his hands framed her face, his expression hard and unyielding.

“What other work?” he demanded.

“With the relationship we have, Mr. Collins, I don’t see why I owe you a detailed explanation,” she said coolly, her voice low and even.

“I’ll ask you one question,” Marcus said, his fingers gripping her chin, tilting her face toward him. “Other than me… are you involved with anyone else?”