My CEO's Blackmail Tape - Chapter 48: Chapter 48

This time, there was no buildup—no teasing, no slow seduction. Nathan drove into me like a piston, mechanical and relentless, nothing like before. At least I was wet enough that it didn't hurt. But pleasure? Gone. Instead, my chest ached, hollow and heavy.
He gripped my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. I clenched my teeth and turned away, staring blankly through the window, unseeing.
What was wrong with me? Had I really grown tired of Nathan Roscente after only a handful of encounters? My emotions were a knotted mess. I didn't respond, didn't move—just stood there, rigid as a mannequin. He noticed, of course. My lack of reaction bored him, and he finished fast, frustration darkening his expression.
Clearly unsatisfied, his jaw tightened.
"What the hell's gotten into you? You're like a goddamn dead fish."
I met his glare, icy and silent.
Dead fish. The words stung because they were true. Sometimes, the person who knows you best is yourself—and yet, you can still be a stranger to your own heart.
The air between us thickened with tension. Nathan slumped into his leather chair, lighting a cigarette as smoke curled around him like a ghost. I gathered my discarded clothes from the floor, dressed mechanically, smoothed my hair, and walked out without another word.
The rest of the day passed in a fog. I moved through the office like a phantom, barely registering Sophia Hill's concerned voice as she called my name. Are you okay? You look pale. I forced a smile and waved her off. But my chest was a vise, squeezing tighter with every breath—like I might shatter if I exhaled too hard.
At home, the empty apartment echoed with silence. Desperate for distraction, I scrubbed the bathroom raw, rearranged every shelf, exhausted myself until I collapsed onto the bed. But stillness only invited the storm. Emotions I couldn't name crashed over me.
And then—it hit me.
I missed Daniel Evans.
Madly.
The realization punched through me. He was lying in a hospital bed, injured and alone, and here I was, carrying on like nothing had happened.
He'd told me not to visit. But was that what he really wanted? Or just words spat in anger?
After a war inside my head, I grabbed my coat and hailed a cab.
Outside his room, I hesitated, peering through the glass.
Daniel was alone, struggling to sit up. His face twisted in pain as he tried to swing his legs over the edge of the bed, one hand white-knuckling the IV pole. Then—his foot slipped.
My heart lurched.
I burst through the door and caught him just before he hit the floor, my arms bracing his weight. Cold sweat prickled down my spine. That single second of terror had frozen me to the core.
And in that moment, I knew.
I cared about him. Deeply.
His orientation? Irrelevant. None of it mattered.
Daniel blinked in surprise, then gently pushed me away.
"I thought you were using a catheter?"
"It's uncomfortable. I hate it."
He refused my help to the bathroom, so I waited outside, my gaze drifting to the nightstand—two food containers sat there. Scrambled eggs with tomatoes and a box of rice, barely touched.
Odd. Daniel hated tomatoes. And eggs.
When he returned, I asked about the meal. He stayed silent.
A nurse walked in shortly after. From her, I learned the truth: Since I left, no one had come. No friends, no family. He'd been eating whatever the cafeteria sent up, swallowing it down without complaint.
My throat tightened. Tears spilled before I could stop them.
"Why didn't you ask Ethan Lopez to help? You pushed me away just to suffer like this?"