Chapter 189 The Next Step

Cecilia found herself held by him, standing rigidly. After a long while, she shook her head. “I don’t hate you,” she said. It was the truth.

Hearing this, Nathaniel held her tighter, his large hand gently caressing her face. Only now did he truly feel that Cecilia still belonged to him.

Cecilia knew the time was right. Lifting her gaze, she stood on tiptoe and brushed her lips against his Adam’s apple, then grazed his lips. The spot where she kissed him felt engulfed in flames. Despite his incredible restraint, it proved insufficient. He took hold of her nape and leaned in for an assertive kiss. Regardless of her intentions, he desired her that night.

Noticing his change, Cecilia paused. “I’m a bit scared; can we have a drink first?” she asked.

“Alright,” he replied, his voice hoarse as he struggled to control himself, facing her dewy-eyed gaze.

Cecilia chose the strongest liquor from the cellar and discreetly slipped the medicine Vivian had acquired into Nathaniel’s cup. For complete success, this couldn't be a one-time affair; she also needed to obtain Nathaniel’s sperm. In his right mind, he would never allow it to be collected.

She poured the wine, handing him a glass. To put him at ease, she took one for herself. “Cheers,” she said.

That day, Nathaniel drank all the wine she poured. Cecilia took a sip, feeling a burning sensation.

“Get the tequila next time; this isn’t suitable for you,” Nathaniel remarked, instantly recognizing her choice of the highest alcohol content. Tequila, he knew, had a lower alcohol concentration and was less harmful.

“Alright,” she replied. She didn’t pour him more wine; she needed to proceed carefully, lest he become wary. Besides, the amount she’d added should be enough.

Nathaniel was impressive. He downed a large glass without flinching. He adjusted his tie, took a deep breath, and effortlessly lifted Cecilia into his arms, carrying her to the room.

On the way, Cecilia nervously clutched his clothes, whispering, “I’m sorry.” Nathaniel paused, assuming she was unwilling. Unexpectedly, she continued, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left, pretending to be dead.” Her eyes held genuine affection. To succeed that night, she was willing to say anything.

Nathaniel’s throat tightened. Before he could respond, Cecilia’s hand moved to his waist. She called out a name she hadn’t uttered in a long time: “Nathaniel.”

His body stiffened. “Mmm-hmm,” he rasped.

He laid her on the bed, leaning in. He felt a jolt, unsure if it was the alcohol, when she spoke his name, as if electrocuted. He pushed her into the corner of the bed, leaning in again.

Face to face, so close they could hear each other’s breath, fear rose within Cecilia. Part was due to past experiences; part was the fear of his reaction the next day if he discovered something was amiss with the wine. But this was an opportunity she couldn’t miss. Saving her child was all that mattered. She closed her eyes.