CHAPTER 16
A few hours later, they were back in the car on their way to Thornfield Manor. The silence between them was palpable, thick with a tension Graham couldn’t quite place. Isla sat with her face turned toward the window, her delicate features set in a stubborn frown as she gazed out at the passing countryside. Meanwhile, Graham found his gaze drifting to her far too often, his brow furrowing deeper with every glance.
Where had it all gone wrong?
The moment they had gotten into the car replayed in his mind. He had opened the door for her—a gentlemanly gesture he thought she might appreciate—and had even offered her his hand to help her in. But instead of acknowledging him, Isla had ignored his hand entirely, slipping into the car with the same stony silence she had maintained since leaving the hotel.
At first, he was perplexed. Why had she rebuffed him so coldly? He wasn’t used to being dismissed like this, especially by someone as sweet and unassuming as Isla. The realization struck him gradually, like a slow unraveling of a knot. Her body language, the slight pout on her lips, the way her arms were folded tightly across her chest—it all painted a clear picture.
She was sulking.
He almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of it. Graham Lancaster, multi-billionaire and master of negotiation, brought low by the silent treatment of a sulking nineteen-year-old girl. He leaned back in his seat with a groan, running a hand down his face. Dear God, what the hell have I gotten myself into?
The realization that he was dealing with a teenager—one who likely still processed emotions in bursts of dramatics and pouting—was both maddening and strangely endearing. His usual strategies for smoothing over conflicts wouldn’t work here. Isla didn’t care about logic or reason right now. She was upset, and she wanted him to know it.
It wasn’t until they reached Willow Creek that inspiration struck. As they passed by a small, retro ice cream parlor with its cheerful neon sign, an idea began to take shape. Without warning, Graham pulled the car to a stop.
“Come on,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument as he climbed out of the car.
Isla looked at him skeptically but followed, her curiosity piqued despite herself. A few minutes later, they were seated at one of the outdoor tables, Isla holding a waffle cone with a scoop of vanilla and another of strawberry.
The transformation was almost instantaneous. The pout melted away as she took her first bite, a small smile playing on her lips as the sugary sweetness hit her taste buds. Graham watched her with quiet satisfaction, the tension in his chest easing as her mood visibly lifted.
As the tension between them finally eased, Isla was happily digging into her ice cream, her face lighting up with a genuine smile. Graham leaned back in his chair, watching her with a curious mix of amusement and fascination. She seemed so content, savoring her treat as if the world outside didn’t exist. For a moment, he let himself bask in the simplicity of the scene—her happiness was infectious.
But Graham wasn’t one to let a quiet moment linger too long. “You know,” he began, his tone casual, “I’ve been wondering about something, Isla. When you were asking me for a loan earlier...what exactly were you planning to do with the money?”
She looked up at him, mid-bite, her mouth full of ice cream. She swallowed quickly and dabbed at her lips with a napkin. “I was thinking of going to college,” she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m not trained for anything, really, and if I want to make a future for myself, I’ll need a higher education.” She paused, her lips curving into a sarcastic, taunting smile. “Why? Are you thinking of giving me the money?”
The taunting note in her voice caught him off guard. For a second, Graham was stunned. She wasn’t just the shy, timid girl he’d grown used to—there was a spark of defiance in her, a side of Isla he hadn’t seen before. It was captivating.
But Graham wasn’t one to back down from a challenge, especially not when it came from her. He leaned forward, his own smile turning sly. “No,” he replied smoothly, “but you could always marry me, and then you’d have all the money you’d ever need. Go to college, buy a college—it’d be entirely up to you.” He shrugged nonchalantly, his tone baiting her back.
He expected her to recoil, to blush and stammer like the shy little touch-me-not he thought she was. But Isla surprised him again. Her eyes narrowed slightly, and her taunting smile turned razor-sharp. “Why?” she countered, tilting her head. “What happened to Vanessa?”
The air seemed to leave his lungs for a moment. She’d knocked the wind out of his sails, and she knew it. The minx. Graham forced himself to stay composed, leaning back with a shrug. “She left,” he said, feigning a pitiful expression. “Dumped me right at the doorstep and walked away.”
He added a theatrical sigh for effect, looking at her with mock sadness. “Won’t you take pity on me, dear Isla, and marry me? Save me from my tragic loneliness?”
Isla’s laugh was sarcastic and full of disbelief. “No,” she said simply, before scooping the last bit of ice cream into her mouth. She paused, savoring the bite, then looked at him with a angry glint in her eyes. “Why don’t you ask Maggie instead? She’s a fantastic cook, runs a home better than anyone I know...and she’s much closer to your age.”
The fake smile she gave him as she sucked the last bit of ice cream off her spoon was enough to make his jaw tighten. Her jab at his age stung more than he wanted to admit, but it wasn’t her words that undid him. It was the way her lips wrapped around the spoon, her tongue flicking against the metal as she drew it out of her mouth.
Goddamn this girl.
Heat flooded through him, pooling low in his abdomen, and Graham suddenly realized he was far too aware of her in a very inappropriate way for a public setting. His trousers felt uncomfortably tight, and he cursed silently, willing his body to behave. Not here. Not now.
Isla, oblivious—stood up with that same impish smile and sauntered toward the car, leaving him sitting there, frozen. He clenched his jaw, closing his eyes for a brief moment to regain control.
She was the teenager here. She’s THE nineteen year old HERE, for God’s sake, he told himself. Yet somehow, his body was acting like HE was the hormone-driven teenager instead of the composed thirty-year-old man he prided himself on being.