CHAPTER 28
“Oh, I see it now,” Daneil drawled, leaning back against the bar with an infuriating smirk. “You’re practically salivating over that barely legal thing in white. But come on, mate. A man has needs. And that
blonde secretary of yours? Tight black skirt, legs for days–she’s
practically hovering over you all day at the office. You’re telling me
one thing hasn’t led to another?” He grinned, his tone dripping with
insinuation. “You know… late nights, a little tension, and–boom.”
Graham turned his head slowly, his glare sharp enough to draw blood.
“No. And stop talking about Nella like that,” he said, his voice low
and dangerous.
Daneil’s grin widened as though Graham’s anger only fueled his
amusement. “So, you’ve never banged her? Not even a one–night- stand mistake? Not even a little slip–up in a drunken haze?”
The disgust on Graham’s face spoke louder than words, and Daneil laughed, loud and unapologetic. “By that expression, I’d say that’s a big fat no. Good to know. Very good to know,” he added, nodding to himself as if filing the information away for future use.
Daneil finished his cocktail in one long swallow and stood, adjusting
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his cuffs with exaggerated nonchalance. “Well, wish me luck, because
ten bucks says I’m getting lucky tonight.”
Graham barked a dry laugh, his tone biting. “Ha! Not a chance. Nella
has standards, Daneil. I’ve met some of her boyfriends. All
respectable, straight–laced guys. But most importantly, monogamous.
None of them were Casanovas like you, ready to jump into bed with
anything half–pretty that so much as smiles in your direction.”
“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong,” Daneil countered, leaning in
closer. His grin took on a predatory edge, his tone softening as
though he was sharing a great secret. “Every person has a chink in
their armor, an Achilles‘ heel. It’s just a matter of finding it. Once you
do, they’ll eat right out of your hand. It’s all about finesse, my friend.
And Nella?” He chuckled darkly. “She’s no different. Everyone’s got a
weakness.”
Graham’s jaw tightened, his fists curling on the bar. His voice was a
low growl. “Daneil. Keep your dirty paws off my secretary, I mean it.”
But Daneil simply smirked, shrugging off the warning as he sauntered
off, clearly undeterred. “We’ll see about that,” he called over his
shoulder.
Graham barely registered his friend’s departure, his attention
snapping back to the dance floor. His stomach churned as he caught
sight of Isla again, her radiant smile aimed at her dance partner. The
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Hollywood actor had his hands on her, and they were inching higher-
far too high–along her exposed thighs. Graham’s blood roared in his
ears, his vision narrowing until all he could see was the man who
dared to touch what was his.
Enough. He had tolerated more than enough. His drink forgotten,
Graham stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. A storm
of possessiveness and fury coursed through him as he stalked toward
the dance floor, his every step purposeful, his every thought singular.
He was done playing nice.
Graham stood abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor as
he stormed toward the dance floor. His towering frame loomed over
the Hollywood actor who had the audacity to put his hands on what
was his. The actor turned, startled, as Graham’s furious glare bore
into him.
“Do you mind?” Graham hissed through gritted teeth, his voice low
and menacing. The actor froze, then hastily removed his hands from
Isla, stepping back as though he’d been scalded. Within seconds, he
dissolved into the crowd, clearly unwilling to cross a man like
Graham Lancaster.
Isla, however, was less than pleased. She crossed her arms and
pouted. “He was just telling me about his new movie,” she defended,
her voice soft yet laced with annoyance.
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Before she could say more, Graham’s strong arms snaked around her
waist, pulling her against his chest. His larger, commanding presence
enveloped her delicate form as he began to lead her in a slow,
deliberate rhythm. The intensity in his gaze made her cheeks flush,
though her irritation lingered.
“Did he also tell you about his wife and two kids waiting for him at
home?” Graham’s voice was laced with disdain, his lips curling
slightly as he stared down at her.
Isla blinked, caught off guard. “He’s a celebrity. Everyone knows he’s
married,” she replied, frowning as she tried to pull away slightly.
“And you forgot that little detail when, exactly? Before or after he had
his hands all over you?” Graham jabbed, his words sharp and biting.
The image of the actor’s hands on her was burned into his mind,
fueling his jealousy and anger.
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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.
