Page 3 of His To Unravel (His & Hers Duet #1)

THREE

nathaniel

The early morning light stretches over the skyline, casting the Charles River in a muted gleam that cuts through the quiet stillness. Coffee in hand, I look out at the city, taking in the slow, steady pulse of the city below.

From up here, the city is visible, but distant. Just as I intended.

The entire penthouse reflects that same deliberate design. Floor-to-ceiling windows swallow one wall, inviting the whole of Boston inside while keeping me hidden, removed. Polished marble counters, smooth leather surfaces, and restrained colors that both soothe and sharpen. Nothing is by accident.

I’ve already retraced the steps of yesterday’s study session with Olivia, every imperceptible shift in her expression, the way she kept herself focused, reserved.

If only she knew how easily she’s drawn me in…

That her restraint only heightens my interest. Every instinct tells me that Olivia is a puzzle worth piecing together with care.

It’s strange to think that, not long ago, I almost left all of this behind. Halford, this penthouse, the degree I don’t need. I was ready to walk away and abandon the meaningless charade of classes and lectures .

My family built our wealth over generations. My father, my grandfather, and his father before him—they all walked the halls of Halford, went through the motions of Ivy League education. But they didn’t need a degree to shape empires, and neither do I.

We are venture capitalists, builders of fortunes, creators of power.

I already proved myself during the gap year I spent working alongside my father.

If I walked into his office tomorrow, I could take over any part of the business with ease.

College was never more than a formality for me, a box to check before stepping into the role I was born to inherit.

Until I saw her.

It was nothing remarkable, just a moment in passing.

I had been walking across the quad, bored and barely paying attention to the endless stream of students milling around.

But then, there she was, sitting on a bench beneath one of the oak trees, head bent over a book, completely oblivious to the outside world around her.

There was something about how absorbed she was, so removed from her surroundings that it caught my attention.

She was not like the rest. There was no air of entitlement about her, no desperation to be noticed or included.

She was focused, self-contained, like she existed in her own world. In that moment, something shifted.

It was subtle at first, a mere flicker of interest.

But the more I saw her, the more it grew. I learned her schedule, the routes she took to class, the café she frequented.

I watched her. I studied her.

Until that curiosity became something more. Something deeper.

And now, here I am. Back at Halford.

Still playing the part of the diligent student, attending lectures and sitting in seminars—not because I need to, but because she’s here. Every decision I’ve made since returning has been tied to her. I’ve positioned myself exactly where I need to be .

Someone like me relishes the buildup. Watching her cling to her independence so tightly.

It’s her defining quality, the part of her that makes her both strong and, I suspect, vulnerable.

She prides herself on her distance from the chaos of university politics, the performative friendships.

But that isolation leaves her exposed in other ways.

She doesn’t yet see me for what I am.

With Olivia, subtlety is key.

The thrill lies in the strategy, the calculated pacing of every interaction. I’ll lay foundations she won’t even notice. Let her become comfortable with my presence, till I become the one she reaches for. The awareness is almost intoxicating, like a game unfolding in slow, perfect motion.

The last of the coffee slides down my throat, and I set the cup aside, already feeling the satisfaction settle.

It’s early, but I can feel the day stretching ahead of me, marked by steady steps forward. I’ll find her, seek out another conversation, inch closer.

For now, there’s no need to rush.

The hallway fills with students spilling out of classrooms, their voices overlapping in a constant hum as I wait just outside the lecture hall where I know Olivia will emerge any moment now.

I lean against the wall, relaxed, as if I’ve simply stumbled into this moment—just another student passing by. But I’ve chosen my spot with care, and the way I position myself allows me a clear view of the doors.

When she steps out, I catch her eye almost instantly.

Surprise flickers briefly before she smooths it away, pulling up the reserved professionalism I’ve come to recognize as her armor. But it’s there—that moment of recognition, her guard slipping for just a heartbeat.

I greet her with a small nod, stepping forward with enough ease to suggest that this meeting is purely incidental.

“Olivia,” I say, tilting my head, voice carefully modulated. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

She manages a polite smile, and I fall into step beside her as we navigate the hallway.

It’s subtle, the way I maintain the perfect amount of distance, close enough to suggest familiarity but not enough to make her pull away.

“I’m glad I ran into you. I realized we haven’t set up our next meeting,” I say. “Want to figure out a regular schedule for the project? Might be easier to keep up with everything now that the semester’s getting busy.”

She glances over at me, considering, and I watch her weigh the suggestion. There’s a small spark of relief in her eyes, like structure is exactly what she needs.

“That sounds like a good idea,” she says, her voice soft but decisive.

“Glad to hear it. How’s Tuesday, late afternoon?

” I suggest casually. She nods, a small smile of agreement, and I sense her settling into the ease of it, of a plan already mapped out.

“I’ll shoot you a message to confirm the time, if that’s all right?

” My tone remains even, easygoing, though beneath the surface, every part of this is purposeful.

“Oh, sure,” she replies. I watch as she reaches for her phone, waiting for me to do the same.

As I type her number into my phone, I can’t help but feel a rush spread beneath my calm exterior. This is another step, another piece of her life becoming accessible to me, woven seamlessly under the guise of professionalism.

I keep our conversation light, the casual notes of our project and classes, mindful not to stretch this moment beyond what feels natural.

I sense her comfort growing, her body language easing as she speaks. And when we part ways, she’s the one who walks away first, phone in hand, glancing back once, a brief, barely-there movement that doesn’t escape my notice.

I savor it; the steady integration into her life, one small suggestion at a time.

Tuesday afternoon comes soon enough, and we find ourselves back at the library, cloaked in an afternoon hush, save for the rustle of pages and the occasional murmur from scattered tables.

We’ve taken a secluded corner—ideal, I thought, for a “study” session that’s less about textbooks and more about peeling back the layers of the girl across from me.

Olivia’s attention is focused as she pores over her notes, her pen tapping lightly against the paper. The steadfast determination she exudes is alluring, unassuming but compelling.

She’s not just intelligent; she has a drive that feeds a flickering fire within her. One that I intend to turn into something all-consuming.

Between discussing market analysis and potential strategies, I steer the conversation just enough, weaving in innocuous questions, letting my tone stay gentle, genuinely curious.

“You mentioned you’re thinking of consulting roles,” I say casually. “Ever consider something outside Boston?”

She pauses, her gaze lingering on the book for a moment before lifting to meet mine. “Yeah, actually,” she says, a hint of wistfulness coloring her voice. “I’ve been applying around Boston, but…I don’t know. Sometimes I think about leaving. Maybe going to the West Coast. Or abroad.”

The way she says it—an almost reluctant confession—strikes something deep inside me. Leaving the East Coast entirely? That would mean detaching from the plans I’ve already started building around her.

That can’t happen. I didn’t return to Halford just to watch her run to the other side of the country, or worse, another continent.

No, I need to keep her close. Back to New York, where she belongs. Where I belong. My family’s legacy is rooted there, and that’s where I’ll build my future, with her by my side.

I school my expression, keeping it neutral, curious. “Somewhere new for a fresh start?” I prompt, letting my voice sound almost amused, as if I think she might be joking.

She nods, her expression growing thoughtful.

“I suppose. It’s more about…freedom. The space to figure things out for myself without any expectations,” she says, her voice lowering, as though she’s revealing a vulnerability she rarely shares.

“Sometimes, I feel like I’ve just been…on autopilot.

Doing what I’m supposed to do rather than choosing what I really want. ”

Her words echo in my mind, and I consider her carefully. Freedom. Her need for it pulses as a challenge. She craves something she thinks she can find by fleeing, when in truth, it’s the very thing I intend to dissolve piece by piece.

When the time comes, Olivia will see that her future isn’t on the West Coast, or anywhere else, but with me.

For now, I nod, feigning understanding. “It makes sense, Olivia. You’re driven, and maybe that drive deserves to be less…restricted.”

Her lips lift in a soft smile, pleased by my response, though perhaps not entirely convinced. There’s a faint flush in her cheeks, a trace of color that appears as she opens up, and I savor it, knowing that each admission brings her closer to my orbit .

“So,” I continue, leaning just slightly forward, “tell me more about where this all started. You’re here on scholarship, right? That must have meant a lot to your family.”

The softness in her gaze sharpens, her back straightening slightly, and I watch her hesitate before nodding. “Yes. My parents…they worked hard, but we were never exactly well-off. Getting here was… It felt like I owed it to them to make the most of this chance. To prove it was worth it.”

It’s the opening I was waiting for, confirmation of the pressure she feels. The vulnerability she carries in her bones, persistent and rarely shared, speaks to me like an unvoiced invitation. “That’s a lot to carry,” I murmur, letting my words hang between us.

Her smile is small, almost self-conscious. “It is. But it’s my own fault, too. I’ve always been a little too focused on living up to other people’s expectations, instead of?—”

“Your own desires,” I finish for her, soft yet certain.

She glances at me, surprised, her eyes studying mine for a beat longer than necessary. It’s the look that tells me she feels seen, understood. And I know she won’t easily shake this moment from her mind.

She’s quiet for a second, then asks gently, “What about you? I mean, you don’t seem like the type who has to prove anything to anyone.” A tentative pause. “What’s your family like?”

The shift is subtle, but I feel it. That old, instinctive lock closing inside my chest. I smile—easy, practiced. “They have their expectations too,” I say lightly, steering the words somewhere neutral. “But I’ve learned to navigate them.”

She opens her mouth, maybe to press, but something in my tone must stop her. She simply nods, letting the question settle unanswered between us.

I let the silence settle, our study materials untouched as her gaze drops to the table. Her hand brushes against mine as she reaches for a page, and she doesn’t pull back immediately. My pulse quickens with satisfaction—she’s relaxing around me, the faintest crack in her guarded exterior.

I tuck each detail away like a prized possession: the earnestness in her voice, the openness in her gaze, the hesitation that has her glancing back at me when she thinks I’m not looking.

Olivia has no idea that this is exactly what I wanted. For her to think this exchange was inevitable, a product of two classmates growing close over a project. I smile to myself, keeping it subtle, my mind already planning how to deepen this connection she’s only just begun to acknowledge.

Letting her come to me, step by step, is a game I intend to win.

And though today was but a small victory, it’s one I’ll relish all the same.