Between Two Brothers

CHAPTER 13.

ISLA'S POV

The black evening gown that I've been ordered to wear as Dare's assistant clung to my curves like a second skin, far more elegant than anything I’d ever owned. I smoothed the silk over my hips as the town car glided through London’s glittering streets toward the Savoy. “Business dinner,” Dare had called it this afternoon, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re my assistant. Be presentable. And Isla? Stay close.”

As if I had a choice.

Serena was already waiting in the opulent ballroom when we arrived, draped in emerald silk that screamed money and malice. Her eyes narrowed the moment she spotted me on Dare’s arm—professional distance be damned, his hand firm at the small of my back as we navigated the crowd of elites, CEOs, and old-money aristocrats.

“Well, isn’t this cozy,” Serena purred loud enough for nearby guests to hear, champagne flute in hand. She stepped into our path, her smile razor-sharp. “Dare, darling, you really brought the help to the Savoy? How charitable. Or is this another one of your charity cases? The maid’s daughter playing dress-up.”

A few heads turned. Whispers rippled like poison through the crystal chandeliers. An older gentleman in a tuxedo raised an eyebrow, while a woman dripping in diamonds stifled a laugh behind her hand.

My cheeks burned, but I lifted my chin. “At least I earned my place here through work, Serena. Not by clinging to someone else’s arm like a designer accessory.”

Serena’s laugh was brittle. “Work? Fetching coffee and scrubbing break rooms? Oh! Please. Everyone knows why you’re really here. Warming the boss’s bed to keep Mummy’s little restaurant afloat.” She leaned in, voice dropping but still carrying. “Tell me, Harlow—does Julian know you’re playing both sides now? Or does he like sloppy seconds?”

The humiliation stung, sharp and public. I felt the weight of a dozen elite gazes. Dare’s hand tightened at my back, but he didn’t shut her down completely. Instead, his voice was cool, controlled. “Enough, Serena. We’re here for the merger talks, not playground insults.”

She pouted dramatically, looping her arm through his free one. “Of course, darling. But really, parading her like this? It’s almost embarrassing for the Blackthorne name.”

Before I could retort, an older businessman approached—silver-haired, charming smile, clearly influential. “Darian! Good to see you. And who is this stunning young woman?”

Dare’s jaw ticked, but he introduced me stiffly. “Isla Harlow, my personal assistant.”

The man—Mr. Harrington, I gathered from the conversation—turned his full attention to me, eyes appreciative. “Assistant? With a face like that, you could run the table. Care to join me for a drink while these two discuss numbers? I’d love to hear how a bright mind like yours navigates the Blackthorne empire.”

His flirtation was blatant, hand brushing my arm. I smiled politely, stepping slightly away. “Thank you, but I’m here strictly in a professional capacity.”

Serena seized the moment. “Oh, let her go, Mr. Harrington. Isla’s very good at navigating powerful men. Ask Julian Blackthorne.” Her laugh drew more glances. “Though I hear she’s quite the quick study.”

Dare’s body went rigid beside me. His hand slid possessively to my waist, pulling me flush against his side in a clear claim. “She stays with me,” he said, voice low and edged with warning. The possessiveness rolled off him in waves, dark eyes flashing as he stared down Harrington. “Isla is indispensable tonight. Find your entertainment elsewhere.”

Harrington raised his hands in mock surrender, chuckling. “No offense intended, Darian.”

The tension simmered as we moved through the room. Serena kept throwing barbs—subtle jabs about my “background,” loud enough for key investors to hear. Dare deflected most, but never fully silenced her, as if allowing just enough humiliation to remind me of my place. My resilience held, but inside, I was fraying.

Then Julian appeared.

He cut through the crowd like a blade, impeccably dressed, eyes locking on me immediately. The near-scene unfolded in horrifying slow motion.

“Isla.” His voice carried, drawing attention. He ignored Dare completely at first, stepping close enough to brush my hand. “You look incredible. I knew that dress would suit you.”

Serena’s eyes lit up with glee. Dare’s grip on my waist turned bruising.

“Julian,” Dare growled, stepping between us. “This is a private business event. You weren’t invited.”

Julian smiled coldly, undeterred. “Funny. Last I checked, Blackthorne family still holds sway here. Or has your return changed the rules, cousin?” He looked at me, voice softening with that familiar concern. “I warned you about this. About him using you as arm candy while Serena sharpens her claws. Come with me. We can leave this circus.”

The crowd murmured. Phones discreetly angled our way. I was trapped, again. Dare’s possessive heat on one side, Julian’s pleading intensity on the other, Serena fanning the flames with delighted whispers to nearby guests.

“I’m working, Julian,” I said firmly, though my voice wavered under the scrutiny. “This isn’t the place.”

Dare’s arm tightened. “She’s mine tonight. So back off before I have security remove you again.”

Julian’s eyes blazed. “Yours? Like you owned her six years ago before you abandoned her? Or like the way you orchestrated that restaurant inspection to keep her leashed?” He turned to me. “He’s poison, Isla. The Spain deal, the lies—he chose power every time.”

“Enough!” Dare snapped, voice lethal. The two men were seconds from blows, chests puffed, jaws clenched. Elites watched like it was elite theater. My heart pounded so hard I felt dizzy.

I stepped between them, hands pressing against both their chests. “Stop it, both of you. I’m not a spectacle for your egos. I’m here to do my job.” My voice rose just enough to carry. “Now back off.”

Security appeared at Dare’s subtle nod. Julian was escorted away, but not before shooting me one last desperate look. Serena smirked triumphantly from the sidelines.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of forced smiles and tense negotiations. Dare stayed glued to my side, his touch possessive, but the public humiliation lingered like smoke.

The town car ride back to the office was silent and charged. The moment the penthouse elevator doors closed behind us, the dam broke.

Dare rounded on me the second we stepped into the empty suite, backing me against the marble wall near my desk. His hands planted on either side of my head, caging me completely. The s****l tension from earlier ignited into something feral.

“You think I enjoyed watching that?” he snarled, dark eyes blazing. “Harrington flirting with you. Julian swooping in like some knight. Serena tearing you apart in front of everyone who matters. It drove me insane, Isla. Seeing you with him, again makes me want to destroy everything in my path.”

His body pressed closer, heat radiating through the thin silk of my gown. Our breaths mingled, rapid and heavy. The near-kiss hovered, his lips a whisper from mine, one hand sliding to my hip, gripping hard.

“Then why let Serena humiliate me?” I shot back, voice trembling with fury and unwanted desire. “Why not stop it? Because deep down, you still see me as the maid’s daughter who needs to be put in her place?”

Dare’s forehead dropped to mine, his free hand tangling in my hair. “Because control is all I have left. Seeing you smile at Julian, even politely, rips me apart. I hate it. I hate him. And I hate that you still make me feel this insane, possessive, like I’d burn the company down to keep you from him.”

The admission hung raw between us. His lips brushed mine—barely, teasing, charged with six years of agony. My body arched toward him instinctively, the silk gown whispering against his suit. Heat pooled low in my belly. His hand tightened in my hair, tilting my head as the kiss deepened for one dangerous second—hungry, desperate, all teeth and need.

I pulled away with a gasp, shoving at his chest. My boundaries snapped back into place like armor. “No. We’re not doing this. Not when you’re still punishing me. Not when Julian’s words about Spain keep echoing. I won’t be your obsession and your revenge in one.”

Dare stepped back, chest heaving, regret flashing raw in his eyes for a moment before the mask returned. “You think I don’t know that?” His voice was hoarse. “Every time I touch you, I remember what I lost. What I believed. But seeing you between us tonight… it confirms everything. You’re under my skin, Isla. And I don’t know how to rip you out without destroying us both.”

I straightened my gown, legs shaky, the public chaos and private fire leaving me raw. “Then stop trying to own me. I’m not yours until you prove you’re not the man who believed the worst of me.”

He watched me gather my things, the suite thick with unresolved tension. As I headed for the elevator, his voice followed, low and edged.

“This isn’t over, little maid. Not by a long shot.”