The End of a Marriage (Colette and Matheo) novel Chapter 221

Chapter 221

Isla’s fork paused mid–air as she glared at him. “I’m not going

anywhere with you.”

Graham barely looked up, taking another measured bite of the corned

beef, savoring it like a man with all the time in the world. “Yes, you

are. You’re coming with me to New York this Wednesday. I have work

to do, and you’ll be accompanying me.”

Her jaw tightened. “Why can’t I just stay here?”

“Because,” he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin before fixing her with a steady, unyielding gaze, “you’ve already proven how unreliable

you are when left alone. What’s to stop you from bolting like a

spooked horse the moment I turn my back?”

Her temper flared. “And what if I did? I’m an adult. I can do as I

please.”

The second the words left her mouth, Isla regretted them. She

watched as Graham’s expression shifted, his dark eyes sweeping over

her with a deliberate slowness that felt like a physical touch. It wasn’t

just a glance–it was an assessment, a knowing, lingering look that

started at her flushed face and trailed down her body as if he could

see through every layer of fabric.

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Chapter 221

“An adult, hmm?” he murmured, setting his glass down with an audible clink. There was a wicked gleam in his eyes now, a spark of

heat that made her skin prickle. “I wonder if you could really

please…”

Her face went crimson, the double meaning in his words striking her

like a lightning bolt. She opened her mouth to retort but found

herself speechless, trapped in the smoldering intensity of his gaze.

Graham leaned back in his chair, his long fingers tracing idle circles

around the rim of his glass. He was toying with her, letting the

tension build between them, watching as she squirmed under the

weight of his unspoken challenge. A part of him was sorely tempted to reach across the table, grab that delicate wrist of hers, and pull her into his lap. The image was vivid in his mind: her soft curves pressed against him, her breath hitching as his hands explored every inch of

her.

But no. Patience. He needed patience. She was as skittish as a doe,

ready to bolt at the first sign of a wrong move. He couldn’t afford to

spook her–not yet.

Isla was far from pleased. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“No,” Graham replied, his tone calm yet sharp. “I know exactly what

you meant. Doing whatever you like, even if it ends with you dead in a

ditch?” He took another bite of the potatoes on his plate, his casual

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Chapter 221

demeanor a stark contrast to the tension simmering in the air.

“I didn’t end up in a ditch,” she argued, but her voice lacked

conviction, and they both knew it.

“You were living in a rundown, creepy guesthouse and were saved by

sheer luck from being raped or worse. Do you not understand how

close you came to disaster?” His gaze pinned her in place, sharp and

unforgiving, and for reasons she couldn’t fully understand, it made

her feel a flicker of shame.

Isla looked away, her fingers curling around the edge of her plate. She

couldn’t meet his eyes, couldn’t bear to see the disappointment–or

worse, the truth–in them. But Graham wasn’t about to let her

retreat.

He rapped his knuckles on the table, hard enough to make the dishes

rattle. The vibration startled her, and her head snapped up. His dark

eyes bore into hers, unwavering and resolute. “Look at me when I’m

speaking to you,” he said, his voice firm but not unkind. “You are my

responsibility now, and I’m going to make damn sure you’re safe and

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