Compared to Isla's rising outrage, Grayson's composure never wavered, same effortless, aristocratic calm as always.
His hands stayed relaxed on the wheel, eyes on the road. The light turned red, the car rolled to a stop, and only then did he turn to look at her stunned expression.
He studied her, lips parting slightly, his tone slow and dripping with unearned authority. "You're the one who offered to treat me. Did you actually expect me to spend my own money on you?"
Isla's breath caught meeting that dark, unreadable stare.
He seemed unbothered on the surface, but something in his eyes had sharpened, aggressive, irritated, edged with something almost like anger.
He's actually mad. That was Isla's first read.
So fake. So RIGGED. Gentleman to Bianca, extortionist to me?
She held his g
