The End of a Marriage (Colette and Matheo) novel Chapter 239

Chapter 239

Graham pushed off the table, his decision made. If Isla thought she

could play with fire tonight, she was about to find out just how hot it

could burn.

“Wow!” A loud, raucous laugh boomed behind Graham, accompanied

by a hearty slap to his back. “I never thought I’d live to see the day,

but here we are. Graham Lancaster–pussy–whipped.”

The voice belonged to none other than Daneil Angelis, Graham’s oldest and most irritating friend. Daneil’s wolfish grin stretched wide as he leaned casually against the bar, his tailored suit barely masking the irreverence in his stance. Daneil, founder of the luxurious Jardin hotel chain and self–proclaimed playboy extraordinaire, thrived on

poking at Graham’s tightly wound composure.

Graham didn’t bother turning fully toward him, his gaze still glued to

the dance floor where Isla swayed in another man’s arms. His irritation flared as he muttered, “Shut up, Daneil. And tell me,

the hell invited you?”

who

“Oh, come on,” Daneil drawled, unbothered, as he signaled for a drink. “Do you really think I need an invitation? A Lancaster party is the hottest ticket in town. You know me–I’m like glitter at a rave.

Impossible to keep out.”

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Chapter 239

Graham rolled his eyes, the quip barely registering as his attention

was drawn back to Isla. Her delicate figure moved effortlessly with

the music, and his blood boiled as he caught sight of her dance

partner–a Hollywood pretty boy with a smile too perfect to be real.

The actor’s hands grazed her bare thighs, and Graham’s grip on the

edge of the bar tightened, his knuckles whitening. Fury bubbled up,

his restraint hanging by a thread.

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“Relax,” Daneil interrupted, dragging him back before Graham could

launch himself across the room. “They’re just dancing, not eloping.”

Graham’s glare could have cut steel. “His hands are on her thighs, Daneil,” he ground out, the words barely audible over the thrum of

the party.

Daneil smirked, sipping leisurely from his cocktail. “And you’ve been watching every second, haven’t you? Never seen you like this, man. What’s going on? You used to be the king of indifference. Women

threw themselves at you, and you barely blinked.”

Graham didn’t respond, his silence sharper than any retort. It wasn’t indifference burning in his chest now–it was a volatile cocktail of possessiveness, jealousy, and a maddening desire he couldn’t shake,

Daneil studied his old friend, his expression shifting from amusement to something approaching genuine curiosity. “So it’s real, then,” he said, his tone quieter now. “The great Graham Lancaster, hit by the

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Chapter 239

love bug. What happened to all that talk about never getting married?

About how no woman would ever drag you to an altar?”

Graham tore his gaze from Isla long enough to shoot Daneil a look

that could melt iron. But Daneil, undeterred, continued, his smirk

returning as his eyes flicked to Isla. “And all it took was a young thing

in a skimpy little dress?”

Graham’s jaw clenched so tightly that he could feel his molars

grinding. The dress. That damned dress. If he lived to be a hundred,

he’d never forget the way it clung to her, the way it revealed just

enough to leave every man in the room imagining the rest. He

doubted there was a single hot–blooded male here who hadn’t

undressed her in their minds already.

“Trust me,” Graham growled, his voice low and dangerous, “that

skimpy little outfit is coming off the second I get her alone. And then

it’s going straight into the fire.”

Daneil laughed, shaking his head. “Good to know. Good to know.

You’re a possessive bastard, Lancaster,”

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