Chapter 210
“I think we’ve already talked about this,” she interjected, a hint of
exasperation in her voice. She made a face–not quite a pout but close
enough that it startled him, almost as if she was mocking him. The
playful expression was so at odds with the subject at hand that he
was taken aback, and once again, the stark difference in their ages hit
him. She was so much younger, almost a decade, and moments like
this made it all the more apparent.
“Yes,” he replied, trying to steady his tone, “but I’ve been thinking
about it, and I believe I’ve come up with a reasonable solution-”
“So have I, actually,” Isla interrupted, her voice tinged with nervous
energy. Her hands fidgeted in her lap, rubbing against the faded fabric of her jeans as though trying to calm herself. “And I wanted to
talk to you about it. I… I have a trust fund, but I can’t access it until I
turn 21 or get married. So, I was wondering if you could loan me some
money? Just enough to help me get back on my feet. I’ll pay you back
once I can access the trust, I promise.”
Her words tumbled out in a rush, and she finished with a nervous
glance in his direction, clearly uncertain about how he would
respond. Graham’s jaw tightened. He wasn’t just annoyed–he was
intrigued, though not in the way she might have hoped. He leaned
back slightly, crossing his arms as he regarded her with a mix of
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curiosity and frustration.
“And how exactly do you plan to get back on your feet?” he asked, his voice sharp enough to make her shift uncomfortably in her chair. “Scrubbing more toilets? Washing dishes?” The words came out
harsher than he’d intended, but the memory of finding her in that
squalid basement–her hands bruised and raw from overwork, her
body too thin from skipping meals–flashed through his mind. His
throat tightened at the thought, the panic and pain he’d felt then still
fresh and raw.
“No.” Isla’s tone was firm, and the sharpness in her eyes made it clear
that she was growing tired of his insistence. She gave him a look–a
deliberate, defiant glare that would have been enough to silence most
men. But for Graham, that look didn’t extinguish the fire simmering
within him. If anything, it only fueled it.
Her intent stare sent a strange, conflicting surge through him. His
blood boiled with a mixture of irritation and something far more
primal. At the same time, his body betrayed him, heat pooling low
and insistent. Adjusting his position on the chair to conceal his
reaction, Graham tried to temper the intensity he was feeling. But
even as he shifted, a small, forbidden thrill coursed through him,
awakening a realization that shocked him to his core.
What he felt for her wasn’t wrong. Not anymore. Soon, she would be
his in every way that mattered–his to protect, his to cherish, his to
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possess. The thought was both exhilarating and grounding, an anchor
against the chaos that had consumed his life until now.
“You won’t have to worry about money ever again, Isla,” he
murmured, leaning forward slightly, his voice low and steady. His
hand moved toward hers, resting lightly over her small palm where it
lay on the table. He told himself it was a gesture of reassurance, but
in truth, it was a test–an attempt to gauge her reaction, to see if the
invisible connection he felt every time they were close was something
she felt too.
The moment his skin touched hers, Graham’s entire body seemed to ignite. A spark, sharp and electric, shot through him like a live wire, making him acutely aware of every inch of himself. It wasn’t just a touch; it was an awakening, a jolt that brought him fully into the moment, as though his senses had been dulled until now. He caught his breath, the intensity of the sensation catching him off guard, and
let his eyes flicker to her face.
Her reaction mirrored his own. For just a second, Isla stilled, her body
tense, her fingers trembling ever so slightly beneath his. Her eyes widened, the clear blue depths reflecting confusion and something else–something unspoken but undeniable. She felt it too.
Graham’s mind reeled, his thoughts a chaotic mix of disbelief and
satisfaction. He had dated countless women–models, socialites, even
a princess–and yet none of them had ever elicited this raw, magnetic
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pull that Isla did. It was as though his entire being had been waiting,
dormant, for her.
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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.
