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 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 pull that Isla did. It was as though his entire being had been waiting, dormant, for her.
His gaze lingered on her delicate features, the soft curves of her lips, the flutter of her lashes as she glanced down, perhaps trying to process what had just happened. The thought of her innocence, her purity, only heightened the intensity of his feelings. She was untouched, untainted, and the idea of being the first man to truly claim her sent a surge of possessiveness through him that was almost overwhelming.
His thumb brushed against the back of her hand, the gesture deliberate, calculated. He wanted to memorize every detail of this moment—the warmth of her skin, the way her breath hitched ever so slightly, the unspoken tension that hung between them like a charged wire.
When she formally agreed to be his wife, everything would change. He could kiss her, hold her, begin to show her the depth of his devotion. Maybe tonight, in the privacy of this suite, he could start to bridge the distance between them. Not fully—not yet. Isla was a virgin, and Graham was resolute in his decision to wait until their wedding night to truly claim her. But there was so much they could explore in the meantime, ways to draw her closer to him, to deepen the bond that was already taking root between them.
The image of Isla on their wedding night flashed in his mind, vivid and tantalizing. He could see her standing in the bedroom at Thornfield Manor, bathed in soft candlelight, nervous yet beautiful in a delicate lace nightgown. The innocence in her eyes, the way she would look at him with a mix of trust and anticipation, sent a wave of desire crashing over him so strong it took all his willpower to remain seated.
Graham couldn’t stop the amused chuckle that bubbled out of him at her question. “You’ll give me the loan, then?” she asked, her tone tentative, her voice laced with uncertainty. She had no idea, absolutely no idea, the magnitude of what he was willing to give her. Here she sat, nervously fidgeting with her fingers, asking for a small loan, while he was ready to lay his entire empire at her feet. Thirty billion dollars, the Thornfield estate, his name, his life—everything he had. She wanted a loan, but he wanted to make her his queen.
The sheer innocence of it only made her more endearing, and Graham shook his head with a low laugh. “No, Isla,” he said softly, leaning forward just enough to capture her attention fully. His gaze locked on hers, intense and unwavering. “I’m not giving you a loan.”
Her expression faltered, a flicker of disappointment crossing her delicate features. It made his heart clench, but only for a moment, because he was about to change her entire world.
“What I mean,” he continued, his voice dropping into a deep, steady timbre, “is that you’ll never have to feel that way again. Like you don’t belong. Like you’re a stranger in your own home.” He leaned closer, his hand finding hers on the table again, his touch deliberate and firm, claiming her in the smallest of ways. “Thornfield Manor can be yours, Isla. Just as much as it is mine. It can be ours.”
He let the words hang in the air for a moment, his gaze never leaving hers, watching every subtle change in her expression. She looked confused, her brows knitting together as if she didn’t quite understand where he was going. But he did, and he would make sure she did too.
“If we get married,” Graham said, his voice softer now, almost a whisper, “if you become my wife, Thornfield Manor will be your home again. You’ll never have to feel like an outsider, Isla. Never again.”
Her lips parted slightly, and for a moment, she seemed to stop breathing. He could see the disbelief in her eyes, the way her mind raced to process his words. But he wasn’t done.
“You said something last night,” he pressed, his tone more commanding now, his grip on her hand tightening just slightly. “You said you felt like you didn’t have a family anymore. That you didn’t belong anywhere.” His other hand reached out, brushing a stray curl away from her face, the intimacy of the gesture deliberate and charged. “You don’t have to feel that way anymore. I can be your family, Isla. As my wife, you’ll always belong to me.”
The last words were spoken with a possessive finality that sent a shiver down her spine. He didn’t just mean them as a promise—he meant them as a declaration, an unshakable truth. She would belong to him, in every sense of the word.