Between Two Brothers

CHAPTER 16.

ISLA'S POV

The invitation came without warning, delivered to my desk by Dare’s personal courier in a heavy cream envelope sealed with the Blackthorne crest. Darian Blackthorne requests the pleasure of Isla Harlow’s company as his date at the Annual Imperial Charity Gala. Not assistant but a date. My stomach twisted as I read it, the memory of Victor’s bribe and the charged elevator ride still fresh.

Dare didn’t ask me. He simply informed me at the end of the workday, his dark eyes challenging me to refuse. “Wear something that makes them remember you belong there with me.”

The gown he’d arranged—deep midnight blue silk that hugged my figure before flowing elegantly to the floor—made me feel both powerful and exposed as we stepped out of the town car at the historic venue. Crystal chandeliers glittered overhead, and the elite of London society mingled in a swirl of designer gowns and tailored tuxedos. Dare’s hand rested possessively at the small of my back, his touch burning through the thin fabric. He looked devastating in his black tux, every inch the ruthless CEO.

Serena spotted us immediately. She was draped in fiery red, a vision of calculated perfection, but her smile turned venomous the moment she registered my arm linked with Dare’s.

“Oh, this is precious,” she drawled loudly enough for nearby guests to turn. A cluster of influential donors paused their conversation. “Darian Blackthorne parading his little office pet as a date? How very… charitable. Tell me, Isla, did you borrow that gown or did Dare buy it to make you look less like the maid’s daughter crashing the party?”

Whispers rippled through the crowd. A woman in diamonds raised a judgmental eyebrow. Serena stepped closer, her voice dripping false sweetness. “Careful, darling. Last time you played dress-up, it ended with Julian on his knees. History does love repeating itself.”

I felt the heat rise in my cheeks, but I refused to crumble. Drawing on the backbone I’d sharpened against her barbs at the office, I met her gaze steadily. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Serena. Nor does desperation. If you spent less time trying to sabotage me and more time proving your own worth, perhaps Dare wouldn’t need to bring someone competent as his date.”

A few guests chuckled softly. One older gentleman nodded in approval. Serena’s face twisted, but before she could retort, Dare’s fingers tightened on my waist.

“Serena,” he said, voice low and cutting. “Enough. Isla is here with me, as my date. Find someone else to entertain your insecurities.”

She flounced away, but the damage was done—murmurs followed us as we moved deeper into the gala. Dare guided me through introductions, his touch never straying far, a silent claim that both comforted and frustrated me. We danced once under the glittering lights, bodies close, the tension between us electric. His hand on my waist, my fingers on his shoulder—every step felt like foreplay and battleground combined.

“You’re handling this better than I expected,” he murmured against my ear as we swayed. “Pushing back. It suits you.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” I replied, tilting my head to meet his eyes. “I’ve had excellent teachers in manipulation.”

The moment shattered when Julian appeared at the edge of the dance floor, his expression thunderous. He cut through the crowd like a storm, ignoring the curious stares.

“Isla,” he said, voice carrying. Several heads turned. “What the hell are you doing here with him? As his date?!”

Dare stiffened, pulling me closer instinctively. “This doesn’t concern you, cousin. Walk away before you make a bigger fool of yourself.”

Julian ignored him, eyes locked on mine. “He’s manipulating you. Just like he always does. The Spain deal, the lies about the letters, the way he used your mother’s restaurant as leverage—it’s all control. He doesn’t love you, Isla. He owns you. And you’re letting him parade you around like a trophy while Serena tears you apart publicly.”

I stepped slightly forward, caught between them again but steadier this time. The public scrutiny fueled my confidence rather than crumbling it. “Julian, stop. I’m not a child who needs rescuing. I know the games. I know the secrets. But I’m choosing to stand here on my own terms. Not yours. Not his. Accusing him in the middle of a charity gala helps no one—least of all me.”

Julian’s face contorted with hurt and anger. “You’re blinded. He’ll destroy you the way he destroys everything good. Remember the bet? The way he treated you like a game in school? This is the same man.”

Dare’s hand left my waist only to grip Julian’s shoulder, voice a dangerous growl. “Touch her or speak to her again, and I’ll end you right here, publicly. Family name be damned.”

The scene teetered on the edge of disaster. Guests whispered furiously. Security hovered nearby. I placed a hand on Dare’s chest and the other on Julian’s arm, pushing them apart with more force than I felt.

“Both of you, enough,” I said firmly, voice carrying. “This isn’t about your rivalry. It’s about me. And I’m done being the prize. Julian, go. Dare, we’re leaving before this becomes tomorrow’s headline.”

Julian shot me a pained look but retreated under the weight of the stares. Dare’s jaw remained locked as he guided me out, his grip protective but tense. The car ride home was silent at first, the partition raised for privacy. London lights streaked past the tinted windows.

Then the jealousy exploded.

The moment the car pulled away from the venue, Dare turned to me, eyes dark with fury and something deeper. He unbuckled my seatbelt with one swift motion and pulled me across the leather seat onto his lap. His hands gripped my hips possessively, crushing me against him.

“Seeing you defend yourself out there—handling Julian like that—should have made me proud,” he growled, voice rough against my neck. “But all I could think was how he still looks at you. How he thinks he has any claim. It destroys me, Isla. Every damn time.”

His mouth crashed onto mine in a passionate, angry kiss. No hesitation this time. It was all heat and need—teeth grazing, tongues tangling, six years of pent-up obsession pouring out. My hands fisted in his shirt as I kissed him back, the silk of my gown bunching around my thighs. The car swayed gently with the road, but nothing existed except the taste of him, the hard press of his body, the way his fingers dug into my hips like he could brand me as his.

He pulled back just enough to speak, forehead against mine, breath ragged. “It destroys me, seeing you with him. Even now. I hate how he makes you question everything. How he makes me question if I deserve you after Spain. After believing the worst.” His hand slid up my thigh, under the silk, possessive and desperate. “You’re mine. Say it. Even if you hate me right now.”

The intensity overwhelmed me—the passion, the raw admission. My body responded even as my mind screamed caution. I kissed him again, harder, losing myself for another heated moment in the make-out that felt like fire and absolution. His groan vibrated against my lips, hands roaming with barely restrained hunger.

But reality crashed back. I pulled away abruptly, chest heaving, lips swollen. I scrambled off his lap, adjusting my gown with shaky hands.

“No,” I said firmly, though my voice trembled with lingering desire. “You don’t get to explode with jealousy and claim me like property after everything. Know your place, Dare. I’m not yours to own. Not until you stop punishing me for sins I didn’t commit. Not until the secrets stop controlling both of us.”

Dare sat back, chest rising and falling rapidly, eyes still blazing but now shadowed with frustration and that familiar crack of regret. The car continued its smooth journey through the night streets, the partition a silent barrier to the driver.

“You think I don’t know that?” he rasped, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “Every time I touch you, I remember the boy who promised you forever. Then I remember the man I became to survive without you. Seeing Julian tonight… it rips the wound open. But you’re right. I don’t deserve to claim you. Maybe not yet.”

The charged silence returned, heavier now. My body still hummed from his touch, lips tingling, but I held my boundaries like armor. Dare watched me across the seat, the jealousy simmering but contained—for now.

As the tower came into view, I wondered how many more nights like this we could survive before one of us broke completely..