4
Isla’s POV
The restaurant was dimly lit, all warm candlelight and hushed murmurs of conversation. The air smelled of expensive wine and sizzling steak, a backdrop of elegance that should have kept my mind occupied. But it didn’t. Because all I could think about was the woman sitting beside me.
Isla.
She was wearing a deep red dress that clung to her curves, teasing the eye with the barest hint of cleavage and the soft slope of her thighs. I should have made her change before we left. Should have told her that the dress was too much, that the way it drew every male gaze in the damn place was unacceptable. Just like yesterday.
But that would have been admitting that she got to me. And I wasn’t ready to give her that satisfaction.
“Are you going to keep brooding all night?” Isla’s voi
