Chapter 277
Because Graham Lancaster was serious.
And Isla had just walked into a trap.
Þ
Isla’s breath hitched, a mix of disbelief and mounting panic flooding
her chest. “Graham, what are you doing?” she demanded, her voice
trembling as she stared into his cold, unblinking eyes. The audacity of
the moment was suffocating, and yet, it felt so surreal. This couldn’t
be real. This couldn’t possibly be happening. But there she was,
helpless, as he dragged her toward an empty bench outside, his grip
on her arm unyielding, his face locked in an expression of supreme
confidence.
Without a single word, Graham took a seat, pulling her down beside
him with little regard for her protest. He was already scribbling on
the marriage application form, his pen moving quickly, as if he had
done this a thousand times before–like it was the most normal thing
in the world. His focus on the task was relentless, as though Isla’s
presence was nothing more than a distraction, an annoyance to be
dealt with before the paperwork was finished.
“GRAHAM!” she finally shrieked, the words bursting out of her, her
heart pounding against her ribcage. She couldn’t believe what was
happening. She couldn’t believe he was the one to bring her here. The
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Chapter 277
nerve. The absolute arrogance.
From across the room, the sound of an elderly woman’s disapproving
tut echoed in the air. She looked at Isla, her expression a mixture of
annoyance and judgment. But Isla barely noticed. All her focus was on
Graham, who didn’t even glance up at her outburst. His eyes
remained fixed on the form in his hands, his pen continuing its
steady dance across the paper.
Isla’s mind spun, the weight of the situation sinking in deeper. He’d
brought her here to apply for a marriage certificate. To make her a
part of his life, his property. His arrogance oozed from every pore, and
Isla felt trapped in a nightmare she couldn’t escape from. How could
he do this to her? How could he just decide something like this,
without even asking?
She swallowed hard, her chest tightening. “What are you doing?” she
hissed again, but Graham didn’t even acknowledge her. His silence
was more deafening than any response he could give. He was so certain of his control over her that it was almost suffocating. She
could feel her hands trembling as she looked at the form, then back at
him. “You can’t do this! I won’t sign it!”
And then, as though her frustration wasn’t enough, he spoke–his
voice low, the tone a commanding whisper that sent chills down her spine. “Yes, you WILL,” he hissed, his breath hot against her ear. The
words were wrapped in an undeniable finality, a promise of
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something far worse if she dared to oppose him. The force behind his
voice made her entire body tense.
“You WILL sign it, Isla,” he continued, his lips barely brushing against
her ear as his grip on the pen tightened. “Or I’ll drag you to the
nearest bathroom and finish what I started last night. That silk
blouse you’re wearing?” He paused for a beat, letting the words settle
like a heavy weight. “It’s just as easy to tear off as that nightgown
was.”
Graham’s voice was low, a dark, velvety rumble that seemed to vibrate
through her very bones as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against
her ear. His words were deliberate, each one dripping with a
dangerous mix of arrogance and desire, leaving no room for
misunderstanding. “Sign it,” he commanded, his tone firm yet laced
with a simmering intensity that made her pulse race.
His hand still gripped her wrist, his fingers strong and unyielding, a
silent reminder of his dominance. But it wasn’t just his physical hold
on her that left her trembling–it was the way his words wrapped
around her, pulling her into a world where resistance felt futile,
“Because when I finally take you,” he continued, his voice dropping to
a husky whisper, “when you’re beneath me, writhing and gasping,
screaming my name as you come undone, it will be in my bed. As my
bride.” His lips brushed against the shell of her ear, the contact sending a shiver down her spine. “And it will be our wedding night.”
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
