Chapter 353

Chapter 353:

“I’m Nolan,” he said, extending one of those large hands. “Nolan Chase. And this menace is Leo.”

Isolde took his hand. His grip was firm and warm. “Isolde,” she said simply.

A flicker of recognition crossed Nolan’s face. The polite social smile shifted into something sharper.

“Isolde Lancaster,” he said, correcting himself gently. “Or Carson now, I suppose. I recognize you from the society pages. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Isolde felt the familiar prick of caution, but his tone held no judgment. “The pleasure is mine.”

“I’m an architect,” Nolan continued, his gaze drifting toward the intricate ironwork of the terrace railing. “It’s rare to see this level of cantilevered support on a pre-war building. The load distribution must be fascinating.”

Isolde’s professional instincts stirred before she could stop them. “It’s a Vierendeel truss system,” she heard herself say. “Reinforced in the eighties. They likely used post-tensioned cables to offset the additional weight from the modern HVAC units on the roof.”

𝘙𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘢𝘭𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘴.𝘤𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴

Nolan stared at her. The polite smile was gone, replaced by genuine, stunned curiosity. He glanced from her elegant dress to the sharp, analytical clarity in her eyes.

“That’s incredibly specific,” he said, his voice dropping to a tone of quiet respect. “And correct. You have an interest in engineering?”

A warm flush of pride spread through Isolde’s chest — something she hadn’t felt in years. “You could say that,” she said, her voice softening.

The moment shattered.

Bang.

The heavy French doors leading to the ballroom were shoved open with enough force to crash against the exterior brick wall.

Grayson strode out onto the terrace.

He looked disheveled. His suit jacket hung open, his black silk tie pulled loose around his neck, his usually immaculate hair slightly undone. He stopped dead when he saw Isolde.

Then his eyes shifted to Nolan. He took in the easy proximity between them, the faint, lingering smile still on Isolde’s face.

His expression darkened in an instant. A vein throbbed at his temple. The jealousy radiating from him was almost physical — hot and toxic.

He crossed the terrace in long strides, completely ignoring Nolan and the child.

“Isolde,” Grayson barked, his voice thick and slightly slurred. “We are leaving.”

The warmth drained from Isolde’s face. “I can find my own way home, Grayson,” she said coldly.

He didn’t slow down. He closed the distance between them and reached out, his large hand clamping hard around her bare wrist. His grip was bruising. His skin was unnaturally hot.

“No,” he said, his breath heavy with aged whiskey. “You are riding with me.” He yanked her arm, pulling her off balance.

Before Isolde could brace herself, another hand came down — firm and deliberate — on Grayson’s shoulder.

Nolan stepped forward, positioning his body between Grayson and the door. The relaxed, friendly architect had vanished. His jaw was set. His eyes were hard.

“Excuse me,” Nolan said, his voice dropping to a quiet, dangerous rumble. “Is there a problem here?”

The tension on the terrace snapped tight, vibrating like a plucked wire.

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