Ella hesitated in the grand foyer, her body stiff with tension. Nicholas seemed to notice her discomfort, his teasing demeanor softening as he gestured toward the curved staircase.
"You're soaked through, and you'll catch a cold if you stay like that," he said gently. "Why don't you take a hot shower? I'll lend you something dry to wear."
She blinked, surprised by the offer. "I—uh—"
"No arguments," Nicholas interrupted, his tone leaving no room for debate. "I'll have one of the staff bring you clothes. You can leave them here later if you're worried about returning them."
Ella's lips parted to protest, but she closed them again. The thought of warm water washing away the chill from her bones was too tempting. "Okay," she murmured reluctantly.
"Good choice." He nodded in approval before calling for one of the staff members. Moments later, a woman appeared, holding a neatly folded set of clothes. Nicholas gestured for Ella to follow him upstairs, leading her to a guest room with an attached ensuite bathroom.
"Here," he said, setting the clothes on the bed. "Shower's stocked with everything you'll need. Take your time."
She looked at him skeptically, unused to this kind of treatment. She asked again "Why are you being so nice to me?"
Nicholas paused, his dark eyes locking onto hers. "Maybe I'm just not as bad as you think," he said with a small smirk before stepping out of the room and closing the door behind him.
Ella stood there for a moment, staring after him, before shaking her head. "What have I gotten myself into?" she muttered under her breath.
The bathroom was as luxurious as the rest of the house, with gleaming tiles, a rainfall showerhead, and a selection of high-end toiletries. She turned on the water, letting it run until steam filled the room, then stepped under the spray. The hot water was blissful, washing away the cold and tension that had gripped her since her car broke down.
When she finally emerged, wrapped in a plush towel and dressed in the clothes Nicholas had provided—a soft sweater and a pair of drawstring pants that were far too big for her—she felt almost human again. The faint scent of cedar lingered on the fabric, and she couldn't help but think about the man who had lent her these clothes.
Ella made her way downstairs, her damp hair tied back in a loose braid. She froze at the sight of Nicholas in the living room. Gone was the sharp suit he had been wearing earlier; he had changed into a fitted gray sweater and dark jeans that somehow made him look even more effortlessly handsome.
Nicholas glanced up from where he stood by the fireplace, holding a steaming mug. His gaze swept over her, lingering for a moment on the borrowed clothes before a smile tugged at his lips. "You clean up well."
She rolled her eyes, though her cheeks warmed. "Thanks for the clothes," she said, shifting awkwardly. "I'll wash them and return them."
"Don't," he said simply, stepping closer. "Keep them. I like the way they look on you"
She stared at him, caught off guard again.
"Here." He held out the mug. "Chamomile tea. Figured you could use something warm."
Ella hesitated before accepting the mug, the warmth spreading through her hands. "You didn't have to do this."
"You keep saying that," Nicholas said with a chuckle. "But I wanted to."
She sipped the tea, savoring the soothing flavor. "It's good," she admitted, her voice soft.
"I'm glad you like it." He gestured to the couch. "Sit. Relax."
Ella hesitated, glancing at the pristine furniture. "I'll ruin it," she said, biting her lip.
Nicholas smirked, shaking his head. "It's just a couch. Sit."
Reluctantly, she sank onto the edge of the couch, careful not to settle too deeply. Nicholas sat beside her, leaning back with an easy confidence that made her acutely aware of how out of place she felt.
"You're too tense," he remarked, studying her. "Do you ever let yourself relax?"
Ella shot him a look. "Not everyone has the luxury of relaxing."
His smirk faded, replaced by a thoughtful expression. "Fair enough. But you're here now. No one's expecting anything from you tonight. Let yourself breathe for once."
She looked down at her tea, swirling the liquid absently. "It's not that simple."
"No, it's not," he agreed. "But you've got to start somewhere."
Ella glanced at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. For a moment, she allowed herself to believe that he might actually mean it. She leaned back slightly, her shoulders relaxing just a fraction.
"There," Nicholas said with a satisfied grin. "Much better."
She rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a small smile. "You're insufferable."
"Maybe," he said, his grin widening. "But you're smiling, so I must be doing something right."
Ella shook her head, sipping her tea to hide the smile threatening to break free.
Ella clutched the mug of tea, savoring the warmth it brought her cold hands. Nicholas leaned back with one arm draped over the couch, casually observing her. His gaze dropped to her hair, which clung damply to her neck and shoulders, and his brow furrowed.
"You're seriously going to sit there with wet hair?" he asked, breaking the comfortable silence.
Ella frowned, brushing a hand through the damp strands. "I'll dry it later," she muttered, avoiding his gaze.
"Later," he repeated, his tone laced with disapproval. "You'll catch a cold before 'later' arrives."
She sighed, clearly not in the mood for a lecture. "It's not a big deal."
Nicholas raised an eyebrow, then stood abruptly, reaching for her mug and plucking it out of her hands.
"Hey!" she protested, but he ignored her.
"Come on," he said, nodding toward the stairs.
Ella stared at him, confused. "What?"
"You're coming upstairs," he said matter-of-factly, already walking toward the stairs.
"Why would I—"
"To dry your hair properly," he cut in without turning around. "Let's go."
Ella hesitated, glancing at the cozy couch she was perfectly happy to stay on. But Nicholas turned at the base of the staircase, his dark eyes locking onto hers.
"Ella," he said firmly, his voice low but commanding. "I'm not asking."