Page 47 of InfraRed

One word tells me everything. Graham is a man used to getting his way whether by willing or by force. He doesn’t stop until he does which doesn’t bode well for me or my heart.

But it doesn’t mean I can stop fighting.

Graham

Lucinda Devereux. I’m familiar with her old-money family. The entire family is the embodiment of over-privileged, but I’ve learned over the years that wealth and social status have nothing to do with a person’s character. Whether they’re flat broke or have more money than God, the attitude—the belief they are owed respect and every opinion they have is the only opinion—is just ingrained in some people. But for some, a little money or power goes to their head quickly.

I have no room to judge. I’m an arrogant bastard on a good day and a narcissistic asshole with psychopathic tendencies on a bad one. The power and influence I’ve gained for myself over the years makes me unbearable for many people.

Lucinda is why people believe the cliché about wealthy women. Krista proves it doesn’t matter what you have. Some are just a bitch. And I am just an asshole.

An asshole who had to remind myself I could not rip the woman’s vocal cords out for speaking to Casey like she was a piece of trash.

When she stomps away, all the anger drains because Casey’s fuming face is adorable.

Fearlessness and determination glint, winding and wrapping around us, making me grin. She feels this with me. The timidity falls away when she stands toe-to-toe with me. And I fucking love it because I know how strong she is. It’s a quiet strengththat gets often overshadowed by the damage her mother has inflicted on her over the years. She gets lost in the degradation and the humiliation, believing the lies that have been carved into her mind. But her resilience and courage are stronger than she realizes. That it comes to the surface with me… well, it is a massive ego boost. Even if it’s because she’s angry with me.

“Graham, you had no right to say that? You can’t say that.”

“Say what?”

“That I’m…” her voice drops to a whisper as her eyes dart around. “That I’m your girl. It will give people the wrong idea.”

“No. It’s the right idea. I thought I made that clear the other day.”

She shakes her head and pulls away from me. She spins, that fluttery skirt thing she wears whipping around her long legs. My cock swells, watching her ass sway as she walks across the wide room to her bag sitting on the floor. I follow close behind, panting like a damn dog.

When she stands, I’m right there, pulling her against my chest. “You aremine,Casey. And everyone needs to know because when you fuck with my shit, I will make you pay.”

She shivers against me, then gasps when my dick twitches against her ass. She spins around, looks down, then back at me with wide eyes before pressing her hands against my chest. I allow her to push me away, but I don’t allow much space. “I am not yours, Graham. I can’t be. You know that.”

“I don’t know that because last I checked, I’m a grown fucking man, and you,” I reach up, cupping her jaw, running my thumb over her sharp cheekbone, “are a grown woman. You’re not sixteen anymore, Sunflower.”

Her inhale is sharp and stuttered. For a flash, lust flares, but it’s gone just as fast, replaced with resignation. “No, Graham, I’mnot, but I am still your sister.”

My hand props on the glass behind her as I lean in, forcing her back once more. “Step,” I growl. “We don’t share a single cell of DNA, but I plan on filling you with mine very soon.”

“Oh, my Jesus.” She squeaks, pushing my chest again. “You can’t say those kinds of things.”

“Why not when it’s true?”

“B-because it’s not. That w-won’t happen.” Her head twists rapidly like she’s pleading for even the air to notice her denial.

Sorry, Sunflower, the universe isn’t controlling this narrative. I am.

I nip her ear, earning another shiver. “It will. Very,verysoon.”

“Casey,” her name is called from just outside the room. I take a step back, smirking at her flushed cheeks and nipples straining against her leotard. I bend over and grab the familiar sweatshirt from the floor next to her bag and tug it over her head, still grinning that her lips say one thing and her body says another.

“Casey, I wanted to catch you before you left.” Soft steps enter the room just as I put more distance between us, crossing my arms over my chest. She spots my reflection in the mirror, and I turn to face her. “Oh, I’m sorry. Mr.—”

“Davis,” I extend my hand before she can finish what she was about to say. Confusion flits over her face as she accepts my hand. “I’m here to pick Casey up. I’m her…”

“Nothing.” Casey cuts in before I can finish. I’m not sure how I feel about being called nothing, but I’ll go with it for now, if for no other reason than I don’t need the woman revealing that we know each other and how just yet.

“Yournothingis picking you up?” The woman’s lips press together, doing a poor job of hiding her grin, and Casey realizesher mistake.

“I mean, I obviously know him,” she mumbles.

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