CHAPTER 5: THE UNRAVELING THREAD
ARORA'S POV
The shower exploded in steam.
One second, Arora was rinsing conditioner from her hair, the next scalding water blasted from the showerhead, sending her scrambling back with a yelp. Her foot caught on the bathmat, and she barely caught herself on the glass partition before face-planting.
The bathroom door burst open.
"What the—"
Nathaniel stood in the doorway, shirtless, his sleep-mussed hair and low-slung sweatpants doing nothing to soften the predatory focus in his gaze as it raked over her—dripping wet, naked, and trapped.
"Get out," she snapped, crossing her arms over herself.
He didn't move. "The water's broken."
"No shit—"
"Not the shower." His voice dropped. "The entire suite. Maintenance won't be here for an hour."
Arora's stomach plummeted. An hour? Like this?
Nathaniel reached past her, his bare chest brushing her shoulder as he twisted the faucet off. Then, without a word, he shrugged out of his sweatpants—
"What are you doing?"
"Sharing." He tossed the fabric at her. "Unless you'd rather parade around naked for the cameras?"
Her cheeks burned. Right. The cameras.
She yanked the sweats on, the material still warm from his body. The vanilla and cedar scent, unmistakably him, enveloped her, a dizzying mix of foreign and familiar. It was absurd, being half-dressed in a stranger's clothes, trapped in a penthouse suite with cameras watching, and yet, a strange calm settled over her. Or maybe it was just shock.
NATHANIEL'S POV
He'd planned this "malfunction," had Jake ensure the water was out, counting on the forced proximity. He'd told himself it was just to test her, to see if the strange absence of his symptoms persisted. But watching her pull on his sweatpants, her wet hair clinging to her shoulders, the scent of his soap mingling with something uniquely her, something primal twisted in his gut. It wasn't the usual, agonizing flush of his allergy. This was...different. More profound. A deep, unsettling current that made his carefully constructed world waver.
He'd orchestrated this, yes, but he hadn't anticipated the gut punch of seeing her like this, vulnerable and defiant, draped in his clothes. He wanted answers, but suddenly, the questions felt far too intimate.
"We need to talk," he gritted out, the words rougher than he intended. He needed to focus, to get to the bottom of this impossible anomaly she represented.
Arora scoffed, her eyes still wide and wary. "About what? The weather? The view?"
Nathaniel stepped closer, invading her personal space, testing the boundaries, and more importantly, testing his own reaction. There was no revulsion, no creeping rash. Just a sharp, undeniable pull. "About why you really took this job. About why you're... different."
THE UNEXPLAINED MYSTERY
A silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken questions. Nathaniel's gaze was piercing, seeking something in her eyes she didn't even know she possessed.
"Different?" Arora echoed, her voice barely a whisper. She thought of her scholarship, her unexpected visa approval, the uncanny luck that had led her directly to this surreal situation. It had felt like fate, but now... now it felt more like a meticulously crafted trap.
A floorboard creaked in the silence. Jake stood in the doorway, his usual smirk absent, replaced by a tense, unreadable expression. He looked between Nathaniel and Arora, then back at Nathaniel's unblemished skin.
"She's... an anomaly, Nate," Jake murmured, his gaze flicking to Arora. "A medical marvel, maybe. But definitely an anomaly."
Arora's blood ran cold. Anomaly? Marvel? Her mind raced, grasping for a logical explanation. She was healthy, always had been. What did he mean?
Nathaniel's hand slammed down on the counter, the thwack echoing in the suite. "Enough." His gaze locked onto hers, cutting Jake out of the conversation. "You're the only one. The only one who doesn't cause a reaction. Tell me why." His voice was a low, desperate demand.
Arora's breath came fast, a knot tightening in her chest. The memory of his touch on stage, the dream she'd had, the way his proximity felt strangely right rather than threatening. It defied everything she knew, everything she'd been told about him.
"I didn't—"
"Then what did?" Nathaniel pressed, his voice urgent, intense. "What makes you the one person who can be near me without… without this happening?" He gestured vaguely, his gaze flicking to his bared chest, where not a single tell-tale red splotch marred his skin.
The truth didn't hit her like a bullet; it unfurled slowly, like a chilling mist. Her scholarship. The "random" opportunity for an obscure medical test last year, one she'd barely remembered signing up for. The sudden, uncharacteristic ease of her visa approval. It wasn't a mistake, or luck. It was… a path laid out for her. A path leading right to this room, to this man, to this inexplicable connection.
"Oh my God," she whispered, the implications starting to dawn, not a full picture, but terrifying brushstrokes.
Nathaniel's expression darkened, a desperate demand in his eyes. "Say it."
"I think…" Her voice broke, a fragile thread snapping. "I think we were meant to be together. You are my missing piece." The thrilling, terrifying possibility of it hung heavy in the air.