Chapter 260
Chapter 38
The weight of her desperation seemed to register, but instead of
softening, his expression hardened further.
“That’s enough,” he said sharply, slamming the glass down on the
table with a loud clink. He stood abruptly, his chair scraping against
the floor as he rose to his full height.
“Don’t do this,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Don’t beg like
this. It’s pathetic.”
Isla flinched at his words, but she couldn’t stop herself. Tears blurred
her vision as she looked up at him, pleading silently for him to
reconsider.
But Graham’s expression remained cold, his frustration boiling just beneath the surface. “Go to your room, Isla,” he said, his tone
brooking no argument. “And leave me the hell alone.”
But Isla couldn’t stop. She just couldn’t. The tears came fast and heavy, cascading down her cheeks as though they carried the weight of everything she had been holding inside. She knelt before him, her
Chapter 260
voice breaking as she begged.
“Please, Graham. Don’t do this.” Her hands trembled as she reached
out to him, as though she could somehow grasp his attention, his
compassion. “I’ll do anything—anything you ask for–but you can’t
sell Thornfield Manor.”
Her voice cracked with desperation, her heart laid bare. The words
poured out of her like a torrent, unstoppable and raw. It was her
home–her sanctuary. It’s all she have left of her family. Her mother-
she spent her last days here, and so has her stepfather. Every memory
she have of them is tied to this house. “Please…” Her voice faltered,
her chest heaving as the sobs took over.
But Graham didn’t soften. His expression remained cold, his jaw
locked tight. For a moment, she thought he wasn’t going to respond
at all. Then, slowly, he stood, towering over her with a look that sent
a chill through her.
“That’s a very provocative suggestion, Isla,” he said, his tone low and
sharp. There was a hard edge to his voice, but there was something
else too–something she couldn’t quite place,
Before she could react, he moved to her side, his hand gripping her
arm firmly but not unkindly. He pulled her up from the floor with a
forceful yet careful touch, guiding her back to the chair. “Sit down,”
he ordered, his voice controlled but tinged with frustration.
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She didn’t resist, too stunned by the weight of his presence. He
grabbed his glass of scotch and pushed it toward her, the amber liquid
catching the light. “Here. Have a sip.”
Her eyes widened in confusion, but his expression left no room for
argument. Hesitantly, she lifted the glass to her lips and took a small
sip. The scotch burned its way down her throat, the fiery sensation.
making her cough violently.
Graham sighed, his frustration evident. “You’ve never had scotch
before, have you?” he asked, though it was more of a statement than a question. He leaned against the desk, crossing his arms as he watched
her recover from the burn.
When she finally managed to catch her breath, he spoke again, his
voice quieter but no less firm. “Now listen to me, Isla. Don’t ever say
something like that again–ever. Not to me, not to any man.”
His gaze was piercing as he stared down at her, the intensity of it
making her stomach churn. “Do you understand me?”
She nodded weakly, unable to find her voice under the weight of his
stare.
“Good,” he said, straightening up and moving to the cabinet behind
him. He grabbed the bottle of scotch and closed it with a deliberate
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Chapter 260
pop, placing it back in its place with a sense of finality.
“Because I don’t think you’d like the answer to that kind of
suggestion,” he added, his tone dropping, quieter now but no less
cutting. He glanced at her briefly, his expression unreadable, before
looking away again.
Isla sat frozen, her heart pounding in her chest. She felt like she was
unraveling, like every word he said was tearing her apart piece by
piece.
“Finish your drink,” he said, his tone softer now but still carrying a
note of command. “It’ll help you calm down. And then go to your
room. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”
She stared at him, the glass trembling in her hands. “Graham…” she
began, her voice a whisper. “Will you at least think about not selling
Thornfield Manor? Please, I’m begging you.”
For the briefest moment, something flickered across his face-
something that looked almost like hesitation. But then it was gone,
replaced by the same cold, hardened expression he had worn since
the beginning of their conversation.
“No,” he said, his voice firm and unyielding. The single word hung in
the air like a death knell, final and absolute.
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.
