Page 6 of Blackwell Manor: A Lesson in Submission

Isabella’s pulse pounded in her throat, but she obeyed, stepping toward the table on unsteady heels, lowering herself into the seat opposite Lillian.

Elias said nothing.

But she felt his eyes.

She felt the weight of the air between them.

And she felt something else.

A game had begun.

And she was the prize.

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The Taste of Temptation

Dinner was a slow, decadent thing—course after course of rich, delicate flavors, paired with wine that burned like liquid fire down Isabella’s throat.

But it wasn’t the food that had her breath coming short, her thighs pressing together beneath the table.

It was Lillian.

Lillian, who kept reaching for her glass—only to brush her fingers against Isabella’s wrist as she did.

Lillian, who licked red wine from her lips in a way that made Isabella’s stomach clench.

Lillian, who leaned in, whispering, her lips so close to Isabella’s ear that she could feel the heat of them.

“You’re blushing, darling.”

Isabella’s fingers tightened around the stem of her glass.

“I’m not.”

A soft, wicked laugh.

“Oh, but you are,” Lillian murmured, tracing the rim of her wine glass with a single, teasing finger. “You were blushing this morning, too. When I touched you.”

Elias shifted.

A small movement. A barely there sound.

But Isabella felt it like a command.

She flicked her gaze toward him, heart hammering, skin burning—but he didn’t look away.

He simply sat there, watching.

Waiting.

Because this was a test.

A test she was rapidly failing.

Lillian sighed, tilting her head, studying her. “You’re so tense, Isabella.”

The way she said her name. Like a kiss. Like a sin.

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