My Composure After Divorce Became His Greatest Torment Chapter 16
But in the end, I didn’t listen.
Not long after graduation, Tessa took me to an industry event. She’d sent me notes on several entrepreneurs in advance, reminding me, “Don’t just stand by the dessert table. Meet people. Even if you’re not looking for a relationship, you need connections.”
That night, every man she pointed out was impressive, but I barely registered them.
The only person I saw was Nathan Prescott, just back in Boston after a long stint in Europe.
He had recently started taking over his family’s North American operations. Dressed in a black suit, he stood at the center of the room, his expression so cool it was almost remote.
But the moment he looked up and our eyes met, I was lost.
When Tessa found out, I’d rarely seen her look so grim.
“Stay away from old-money heirs. Their marriages are never just about love.”
I didn’t believe her. I pursued him for what felt like an eternity.
Because I could feel him yielding, bit by bit.
At parties, if I was late, his gaze would drift toward the entrance. At dinners, he would habitually order an extra lemon tart—my favorite—then, realizing his mistake, casually push it aside.
When he came back from business trips, he brought me art books. Not expensive jewelry, but out-of-print collections by obscure painters I’d once mentioned in passing.
Those small things convinced me Tessa was wrong.
At least back then, he really did see me differently.