A/N:

Warning!
-Strong language

📸credits to the owner of the picture

Keep in mind, the pictures are just there as an inspiration.

Name: Nathaniel Prescott

_-_-_

   We all have our own tastes when it comes to the men we fantasize about—whether it's prince charmings, boy bands, or the thrill of a rebellious soul like a gangster or a lawyer who knows how to play with fire. But there's something inexplicably alluring about the old-money types. They carry a certain mystique, a polished veneer that hints at something much more intense beneath the surface.

Today, you find yourself at an exclusive outdoor garden event, perhaps a charity gala or a polo match—it hardly matters. The only reason you're here is because your mother insisted, determined to maintain your image as the dutiful daughter now that you've finished college. Her hope, of course, is that you'll soon marry into the kind of family that attends such events.

But you have other dreams. You long to remain single, to chase your passion for fashion in Korea, to see your designs on the runway. Yet here you are, trapped by tradition, by your mother's expectations—a tradition you silently vow will not be your own.

Your mother leans in, her voice low as she subtly gestures with her teacup, introducing you to the eligible bachelors scattered around. "That one is a Lang," she murmurs, as if discussing the weather. "They're part of the crazy rich Asians."

She pauses, her eyes narrowing as she continues, "And that one's father owns a golf club in Florida."

But as you survey the crowd, all you see are cookie-cutter replicas of their over-dressed, overly smug mothers. They laugh with exaggerated abandon, heads thrown back, mouths open wide, as they discuss either business deals or women in the most condescending of tones.

You stifle a sigh and let your gaze drift away from these prepackaged heirs, and that's when you see him. He's standing by the field, a striking figure next to a sleek black horse. Dressed in all black, his shirt clings to a lean, muscular frame, and his pants fit so perfectly that your thoughts would make your mother douse you in holy water.

His hair is as dark as night, contrasting sharply with his pale skin. Almost as if sensing your gaze, he looks up, and for a brief, electrifying moment, your eyes lock. But the intensity is too much, too sudden, and you quickly glance back down at your tea, your heart pounding in your chest.

Curiosity gets the better of you, and you glance up again just as he mounts his horse. You hold your breath as you watch him ride, his body moving in perfect harmony with the powerful animal beneath him. The way his muscles flex with every movement... you can't help but wonder how it would feel to have those arms wrapped around—

"Stop gawking!" your mother hisses, her voice a sharp whisper. "That's the Duke of Hartford, Nathaniel Prescott. The wealthiest man in the land since his father passed and left him everything. But no amount of money could ever compare to the number of women he's bedded. The man is nothing but a rake!"

A smirk tugs at the corner of your lips as you take a slow sip of tea, your gaze never straying far from the Duke. No wonder he stands out among the parade of pampered sons; there's something untamed about him, something that makes you want to know more, despite—or perhaps because of—his reputation.

The sun dipped lower, casting an amber glow over the garden. You'd managed to slip away from the endless small talk and forced smiles, your mother too engrossed in a conversation with the other society women to notice your absence. Your feet carried you to the edge of the garden, where the noise of the party faded, replaced by the soothing sound of a nearby fountain.

You paused, taking in the solitude, when a voice—smooth, rich, and laced with a hint of mischief—broke the quiet.

"Running away from your admirers?"

You turned to find Nathaniel Prescott, the Duke of Hartford, leaning casually against a marble column, his eyes fixed on you with a lazy, almost predatory smile. The black shirt he wore was unbuttoned at the top, revealing a sliver of toned skin that hinted at more beneath. He was the epitome of bad-boy charm, exuding an effortless confidence that made your pulse quicken.

"Just taking a break," you replied, trying to sound nonchalant despite the sudden heat rising in your cheeks. "Not all of us enjoy these events as much as you seem to."

He chuckled, the sound low and dangerously seductive. "Oh, believe me, I'm not here for the event. I'm here for the entertainment."

He pushed off the column and sauntered closer, his gaze never leaving yours. "And tonight, the most interesting entertainment has been watching you."

You felt a shiver run down your spine, though you fought to keep your composure. "I didn't realize I was putting on a show."

He smirked, a glint of something wicked in his eyes. "You've been in the spotlight since you arrived. Didn't you notice? Every guy here has been stealing glances at you, but none of them had the guts to make a move."

He stopped just a step away, close enough that you could catch the scent of his cologne—woodsy, with a hint of something darker. The proximity made your heart race, though you stood your ground, refusing to be intimidated.

"Is that why you're here now? To make a move?" you asked, raising an eyebrow, trying to challenge him.

Nathaniel's smile widened, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "Maybe. Or maybe I'm just here to see if you're as intriguing up close as you are from afar."

Your breath caught, and you felt the tension between you tighten, like a string pulled taut. There was a dangerous edge to his words, something that made you want to step closer and push him away all at once.

"And?" you asked, your voice softer now, as if afraid to break the spell.

He tilted his head, eyes raking over you with an almost hungry look. "You're even better up close."

Your pulse pounded in your ears, but before you could respond, he leaned in slightly, his voice barely above a murmur. "But you already knew that, didn't you?"

His words sent a jolt of electricity through you, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe. The Duke was playing a game, one you weren't sure you could win, but one you were undeniably drawn to.

"I should go," you managed to say, though your feet seemed reluctant to move.

He didn't step back, didn't give you space. Instead, he reached out and gently took hold of your wrist, his touch warm against your skin. "What's the rush? The night's still young, and there's more fun to be had."

You looked up into his eyes, the playful glint there daring you to stay. "And what exactly are you suggesting, Your Grace?"

Nathaniel's lips curved into a slow, wicked smile. "I'm suggesting you stop being so proper for once. Let's ditch this boring event and do something more... exhilarating."

His offer hung in the air between you, tempting and dangerous. You knew better than to get involved with a man like him—trouble followed men like Nathaniel Prescott. But there was something about the way he looked at you, like he could see through the carefully constructed walls you'd built around yourself.

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, "Come on, darling. Take a walk on the wild side with me."

You bit your lip, feeling the pull of his offer like gravity, but you also knew you had to tread carefully. With a soft smile, you gently pulled your wrist free from his hold, stepping back just enough to regain some space.

"Tempting," you replied, your voice steady yet tinged with flirtation. "But I'm not as easy to catch as you might think."

His eyes darkened with a mix of surprise and intrigue, clearly not used to hearing the word 'no.' "Is that a challenge?"

You turned slightly, glancing back at the bustling garden before meeting his gaze again. "Maybe," you said, allowing a hint of playfulness to slip into your tone. "But not tonight."

Nathaniel's smirk didn't falter; if anything, it deepened. "You know, most women wouldn't walk away from me. They usually can't resist."

You raised an eyebrow, taking a step back toward the garden, your heart pounding in your chest but your face betraying nothing but calm. "I'm not most women."

The Duke took a step closer, his gaze locked on yours, the intensity of his stare making it clear that he wasn't used to being denied. "I don't like unfinished business, darling."

You flashed him a teasing smile, feeling the thrill of being the one in control for once. "Then I guess you'll just have to finish it another time, Your Grace."

Without another word, you turned and walked back toward the crowd, the sound of your heartbeat loud in your ears. But you could feel his eyes on you, burning into your back, making you all too aware that this wasn't the end—it was just the beginning of a game neither of you intended to lose.

As you rejoined the party, your mother's voice droning in your ear, you couldn't help but wonder how long it would be before Nathaniel Prescott made his next move. And more importantly, whether you'd be ready to meet him when he did.