Chapter 10: Mr. Stark, Let Go of Me!
Summer’s POV
1 fought back a hysterical laugh. Something in his tone made me pause though that hint of… what was it? Amusement? Challenge? The way he said it reminded me of a chess player contemplating his next move. Don’t flatter yourself, Brandon Stark. I’m not one of your Wall Street acquisition1.
I glanced at Grandpa, watching how the late afternoon light caught the silver in his hair. His eyes had that familiar thoughtful gleam – the same look he got when working out a particularly complex theorem, God, please don’t tell me he’s trying to solve the equation of my love life.
His hand squeezed mine gently, those professor’s fingers still strong despite their age. The familiar gesture brought a lump to my throat. How many times had those same bands dried my tears when I was little? Before I could spiral further into memories, Grandpa cleared his throat, drawing my attention back to our
conversation.
“Grandpa, 111 do anything you ask, but not this.” My voice wavered slightly despite my best efforts to keep it steady.
Grandpa’s eyes held that particular gleam I remembered from childhood – the one that meant he thought he knew what was best for me. “Summer, darling, Brandon is really-
“Grandpa!” I cut him off, perhaps more sharply than I’d intended. The mere mention of Brandon’s name sent an uncomfortable flutter through my stomach. “Keep this up and I won’t visit next time!”
He sighed, his fingers drumming a familiar pattern on the arm of his chair. The gesture reminded me of countless afternoons spent here, seeking his advice on everything from calculus to college applications. But this – this was different. “You’re being stubborn, child “
“I’m being sensible.” I stood up, smoothing my skirt with trembling fingers. “We should go back out. It’s not polite to leave Mr. Stark alone in the living room.” Even if that’s exactly where I’d like to leave him- preferably forever.
“I hope you won’t regret this… Grandpa’s voice carried equal parts affection and exasperation. The familiar tone made my throat tight. Why does everything have to be so complicated?
The walk back to the living room felt longer than it should have. Each step brought me closer to those dark eyes that seemed to see right through every defense I tried to put up. Brandon stood as we entered, that predatory grace making even the simple movement look dangerous,
“Professor.” His deep voice seemed to fill the room, and I had to fight the urge to retreat back to the study.
“Brandon, my buy. Grandpa’s tone carried a note of apology. “You rarely visit me, and I’ve been such a poor host. Well, let’s have dinner.”
I watched Parker efficiently set the dining room table, grateful for any excuse to avoid Brandon’s intense gaze. The familiar routine of a formal d suddenly seemed like the most complicated dance in the world. Just get through this. Smile, nod, and get out of here as fast as possible.
dinner
Parker had outdone himself with dinner a perfectly grilled salmon that probably cost more than that looked like they belonged in a food magazine. But I could barely taste any of it. Every bite felt like a challenge, especially with Brandon sitting directly
my monthly grocery budget, paired with roasted vegetables across from me, those dark eyes catching mine whenever I dated look up.
God, does he ever stop watching? I pushed a plece of asparagus around my plate, trying to look invested in the vegetable’s journey rather than acknowledge the weight of his gaze. The way he ate was infuriating too each movement precise and elegant, like everything else about him. Even rating dinner has to be a power move with this man.
“Summer, dear, you’ve hardly touched your food,” Grandpa observed, making me jump slightly. “Is something wrong with the salmon?”
“No! No, it’s perfect.” I rushed to take a bite, nearly choking in my haste. Brandon’s lips twitched slightly, and I had to resist the urge to throw my napkin at his stupidly handsome face. Dont give him the satisfaction of knowing he affects you.
“The wine is excellent, Professor, Brandon commented, his deep voice sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. “A 82 Bordeaux?”
“Ah, you have a good ryg, my boy!” Grandpa beamed, launching into a story about how he acquired the bottle: I used the distraction to try to calm my racing heart, but then Brandon a leg brushed against mine under the table. The contact, brief as it was, felt like an electric shock.
This has to be deliberate, I thought, shooting him a glare. He met my eyes with that infuriating half–smile, and I swear I could see the challenge in them. Two cle play at this game. I straightened my spine and adopted my best boardroom smile the one I used when dealing with particularly difficult clients
“Mr. Stark,” I cut into their wine discussion with practiced sweetness, “how fascinating that you’re sa knowledgeable about wine. Do you often spend your evenings educating young ladies about vintage years?”
His dark eyes gleamed with something that looked dangerously like amusement. “Only the interesting ones
Τ
Chapter 10 Mi Stark, Len Go of Mal
Before I could formulate a suitably cutting response, his phone buzzed. He checked it with a slight frown, and for a moment, my escape. Please let it be some urgent Wall Street crisis, A market crash. Anything
I dared to hope this might be
“Brandon,” Grandpa’s voice carried a note that immediately set off warning bells in my head. “It’s getting late. Would you mind driving Summer home?”
No. No, no, no. Grandpa…” I started, but the words died in my throat as Brandon’s lips curved into that infuriating half–smile.
“It would be my pleasure. The way he said it made it sound like so much more than a simple offer of transportation.
I scrambled for an excuse, any excuse. B
But under Grandpa’s expectant gaze and Brandon’s knowing smirk, I said nothing
The
way out of my grandpa’s place felt endless. Brandon’s presence beside me was like a physical force, drawing my attention no matter how hard I tried to ignore him.
As soon as we stepped out onto the sidewalk, I tumed to him. “Mr. Stark, please don’t trouble yourself. I can take a cab.” The words came out more. breathless than I’d intended, betraying my nerves.
His dark eyes studied my face with an intensity that made my pulse skip. Miss Taylor seems to really dislike me. A pause, heavy with implication. “Or perhaps… it’s quite the opposite?”
Heat flooded my cheeks – anger, definitely anger. Not embarrassment. Absolutely not anything else. “Don’t flatter yourself, Mr. Stark. We’re nothing to each Jother. Better keep it that way.” I took a step back, trying to put some distance between us. “I’m sure you have other matters to attend to.”
“Nothing urgent” He moved closer, erasing the space I’d created. Besides, 1 promised your grandfather. A gentleman keeps his word. His hand caught my wrist, the touch sending electricity dancing across my skin. And abandoning a lady midway isn’t very gentlemanly, is it?”
The contact sparked something in me – panic, maybe, or defiance. “Mr. Stark, let go of me!”
