Page 56 of Surfer's Paradise

Like she had landed a direct hit.

And good.

She turned on her heel, stalking down the beach, rage coiling, twisting, burning.

But Isaac grabbed her wrist, stopping her.

“Rosie—”

She ripped her arm free.

“Let me go, Isaac.”

He stared at her.

Then—voice low, controlled, immovable—

“You’re staying with me.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Isaac, I swear to god—”

“Get over it,” he muttered, grabbing her hand again, pulling her forward.

“Isaac—”

“Too late,” he said, dragging her with him. “Decision’s made.”

She yanked at his grip, but it was useless. Because Isaac Rayleigh always got what he wanted. And right now, what he wanted—for whatever fucked up reason—

Was her in his house.

Chapter 11

Isaac locked the door behind him, flipping the deadbolt like it could possibly keep Rosie inside.

Like she wouldn’t just walk out the second she wanted to.

And fuck, maybe she would.

He wasn’t confident he could keep her here.

Yeah, he’d dragged her off the beach. Literally. But Rosie wasn’t some woman he could just boss around, talk into submission, charm into compliance.

If she wanted to leave?

She’d find a way.

His phone buzzed again.

Fucking Elodie.

He exhaled hard, pulling it out of his pocket, glancing at the screen.

Where are you?

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