Page 26 of Unwritten Rules

I spin in my seat, dropping my hand while Mila pulls hers from my knee to find the last person I expected to see right now. Here of all places.

“Who’s that, Nate? If looks could kill….”

Clenching my jaw so tight that it hurts, I spit a single word through gritted teeth as Mila’s brow furrows in blatant concern.

“Zara.”

CHAPTER 9

NATE

I close my eyes, blow out a breath, and suck it in deeply through my nostrils before opening my eyes and meeting Mila’s.

“Let me handle this. Stay. Here.”

When I pin her with a stern look, she holds my gaze as her internal Hellcat fights for dominance, the war waging within her dancing across her features in a way that, at any other moment in time, would take my breath away.

Eventually her shoulders slump and she nods, acceding to my wishes. I relax minutely before turning and exiting the vehicle.

Before I’ve even closed the door behind me, my ex-fiancée is on me.

“What are you doing bringing a two-bit hussy to my—”

“Don’t—” I bark, stepping closer to tower over her with vicious intent. “Don’t you dare speak of my guest in that manner.”

As I glower down on her, she swallows audibly before stepping back, crossing her arms over her chest and huffing. “Fine. Then just tell me why you’ve come.”

“I think the real question should be, what are you doing here, Zara? I instructed Wetherby to kick you the fuck out years ago.”

Straightening her shoulders and tossing her head while sheer delighted defiance play across her face, she smirks.

“Oh, Nate. It doesn’t mean I actually got nothing just because it appeared as though I received nought in Xavier’s will. Your father bequeathed the Gate House to me before he passed.”

For fuck’s sake.

“As well as a decent stipend. We couldn’t have been sure you’d have given me my dues after…well, the last time you were here.”

Her pale cheeks have the decency to flush in remembrance. “I was just visiting Wetherby. He’s been unwell.” She narrows her eyes. “Not that you’d know.”

My back stiffens as my jaw tics tightly. I’m about to step forward, ready to put Zara in her place, when a mini whirlwind steps between us, her hands on my chest, firmly keeping me in place despite her diminutive stature.

“Let’s get the luggage, Nathaniel.”

She holds my gaze hostage, allowing me to get a grip on my swirling emotions, and it’s then I notice my fists clenching and unclenching at my sides.

Inhaling sharply, I blow my breath out after an internal count of five, gifting Mila with a slight nod in acknowledgement.

“Yes, let’s.” I turn to the SUV, open the back door, and haul Mila’s three cases out one at a time, followed lastly by my own smaller one.

By the time I finish, I realise we’ve gained an audience.

Phillippe, our old driver who hasn’t changed one iota in the eight years since I’ve been here, has ferried our bags into the house with the help of a younger staff member I don’t recall being here previously.

Lined up by the front door is an assembly of the remaining skeleton staff who, even though I’d reduced them substantially upon my father’s passing, still number quite heavily.

The gamekeeper, Quentin.

The housekeeper, Johanna.