The scent suited her perfectly.
Celia looked up with her bright, clear eyes just as Nathaniel leaned in, his tall frame trapping her between the sink and his arms.
He looked every bit the refined, mature man—charming but not crude.
Celia turned quickly and placed both hands on his chest to push him back. "Please respect yourself, Mr. Fu!"
"Mr. Fu, Mr. Fu… You really like calling me that," he said with a teasing smile. "My secretary told me you called earlier. You asked for Mr. Fu, then hung up. After that, you ignored my calls. What was that about?"
Celia's fair cheeks flushed crimson. This man was too sharp—he'd seen right through her panic, and now he was enjoying teasing her about it.
She didn't reply.
Nathaniel reached out and gently lifted her chin with two fingers, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Was it Zane Song? Did he give you a hard time?"
She hadn't been feeling particularly upset, but when he asked that, her eyes turned red.
"Mr. Song was upset on your behalf," she said quietly. "He thinks I'm just some country girl trying to seduce you—that I'm not good enough for you. But I never tried to seduce you. He's wrong."
Sylvia had always forced her to act as a stand-in. Aside from being that unwilling replacement in the dark, Celia had never tried to get close to him as herself.
So why did everyone—him included—always accuse her of trying to seduce him?
Look at how wronged she was.
If she hadn't tried to seduce him, then who had he slept with the night he returned to China?
If she hadn't been trying to seduce him, then who had crawled into his bed, pretending to be Sylvia, night after night?
Maybe… maybe she'd seduced him without even realizing it.
Nathaniel stared into her tear-bright eyes, her gaze so pure it tugged at something deep inside him. She looked fragile, defenseless—and intoxicating.
His Adam's apple shifted slightly as he swallowed, and his calloused thumb brushed against her lips, stroking the soft skin with slow, deliberate movements. "I know. He was wrong about you. I'm back now. Should I teach him a lesson to make it up to you?"
Every word sounded like comfort, but somehow the way he said them felt dangerously suggestive—like he was toying with her.
His fingers kept playing with her lips. Celia's cheeks burned even hotter as she realized—this man wasn't just flirtatious, he was downright shameless.
She grabbed his hand and pushed it away. "Mr. Fu, please let me go."
"You keep calling me Mr. Fu… And if I let you go just like that, wouldn't that be unfair?" he said lazily. "Celia, I helped your grandmother. Now I think it's time you repaid me."
Her eyes narrowed. "How do you want me to repay you?"
Nathaniel raised a brow. With his chiseled features and self-assured smirk, he looked dangerously irresistible. "You tell me. What do you think you can do to repay me?"
Celia's skin flushed pink. "I... I don't know."
"Then let me give you a hint." His gaze dipped to her lips, dark and magnetic.
The next moment, his tall figure leaned in slowly, inching closer and closer to her lips.
Was he going to kiss her?
He wasn't drunk tonight. He wasn't mistaking her for Sylvia. Did that mean he actually wanted to kiss her—a girl from the countryside, just a substitute?
Their breaths mingled. His lips hovered just above hers. The air between them was charged, electric.
Celia's hand moved as if to push him away—But before she could, Nathaniel suddenly turned his head, reached past her, and turned on the faucet.
He casually washed his hands.
Then, his teasing voice drifted down: "Did you think I was going to kiss you?"