Abandoned No More: Too Late To Love Me

The man before her was none other than Fraser Graham, heir to the Graham Group.

If the Larson Group, led by Trevor, was one of the three most powerful financial conglomerates in Havenbrook, then the Graham Group was the undisputed king. What began as a banking empire had rapidly expanded into real estate, technology, telecommunications, and investment funds. The Graham family's influence touched more than half of the city's major companies.

In the business world, he was quietly known as Prince Fraser.

Summer had met him once before, during a bid where the Stewart family was competing for a project overseen by the Graham Group. She had been one of the managers on that bid.

Now, barely conscious, she had no strength left to worry about her appearance. Summoning the last of her energy, she clutched at the leg of his trousers.

"Fraser... please... help me..."

Fraser's gaze darkened instantly.

Without a word, he bent down and swept her into his arms.

A cold pine scent enveloped her, sharp yet strangely soothing.

In his arms, Summer suddenly felt safe.

Fraser placed her in the passenger seat and shut the door, then leaned nonchalantly against the car.

He slowly rolled up his sleeves and unclasped his watch—a limited-edition piece worth several million.

His cold gaze settled on the three kidnappers now running toward him.

"What did you give her?" he asked, his voice low, calm, and utterly terrifying.

A heavy silence fell.

...

Ten minutes later, Fraser slid behind the wheel.

His stained shirt was gone, tossed out the window.

In the dim light, the hard lines of his muscular torso were sharply defined, each abdominal muscle visible as they tapered into the narrow V of his waist, disappearing beneath his black trousers.

Beside him, Summer kept her eyes squeezed shut, her forehead beaded with sweat. A trembling breath escaped her parted lips as she bit down on the tender flesh.

Fraser watched her for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

Then he pulled out his phone and made a call.

"Westhaven villa. Half an hour. Bring medication."

On the other end of the line, the exasperated voice of Xavier Hathaway—director of Havenbrook's largest private hospital and Fraser's longtime friend—erupted.

"For God's sake, Fraser! Even if I were a professional race car driver, it would take me two hours to get from Havenbrook to Westhaven! What do you want me to do, teleport?"

A faint smile touched Fraser's lips.

"You have a private jet for a reason, don't you?"

Xavier was left speechless.

Who the hell was important enough for Fraser to have him fly out there?

He felt like one of those on-call doctors in the movies, serving some rich, mysterious tycoon at a moment's notice.

Fraser hung up without another word.

His fingers tightened on the steering wheel.

The Porsche surged forward, its roar tearing through the night.

A few minutes later, they arrived at a luxurious white villa by the sea.

The moment the car was parked, something soft and burning pressed against him.

In the confined space of the Porsche, the air grew thick with tension.

Fraser's Adam's apple bobbed. He caught her waist with one hand, his other gripping her delicate chin.

He forced her to meet his dark, searing gaze. His voice was a hoarse growl.

"Summer, do you even know who I am?"

Summer's mind was a fog, but a flicker of recognition remained.

She laughed, a slow, sultry smile that made the corners of her eyes lift in an irresistibly seductive way.

She seemed eager for intimacy.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she nestled against him, her soft face rubbing against his skin.

"Fraser Graham... I'm so hot. I can't take it anymore. Help me... Please..."

With that, her lips brushed against his Adam's apple, trailed upward, and then pressed against his.

Her kisses were messy and unpracticed, but they turned him on. Fraser's eyes darkened as he looked at the flushed woman in his arms. Desire stormed in his gaze, a tempest churning just beneath the surface.

His warm palm slid along her smooth back, his touch slow and deliberate, sending a dangerous shiver through her.

"Summer," he said, his voice low and measured. "Are you sure you won't regret this?"

Summer shook her head, her voice trembling.

"No regrets... I just want to make Trevor regret this."

Fraser's brows arched.

"Oh? You're still thinking about him?"

His hands stilled.

Summer whimpered at the sudden loss of contact, her body aching with a desperate need.

She looked at him with tear-filled eyes, her lips pressed together in an expression of heartbreaking fragility.

"No... no one else. There's no one else anymore."

Trevor was gone from her heart.

Fraser's fingers resumed their slow, teasing caress. His voice dropped to a dark murmur.

"Beg me."

Summer didn't know how. She only knew she needed his body.

Her eyes pleaded with him, her whole body trembling with want.

"Fraser, I beg you... help me."

Fraser's lips curved into a devilish smile. As a reward, he gave her a teasing kiss, murmuring against her lips, "So sweet."

Summer instinctively licked her dry lips. His warm breath drew closer as she whispered in his ear, "I want my first time to be with you."

Something unreadable flickered in Fraser's eyes before a low laugh rumbled in his chest.

"Okay. I accept."

With that, he reversed their positions, taking complete control. His powerful hand settled on the back of her neck as he crushed his lips against hers. This kiss was nothing like the first—it was deep, urgent, and utterly devouring.

He tore every last bit of sweetness from her, leaving her breathless and dizzy.

Dazed.

Summer felt like she was drowning, sinking into an endless wave.

Her body instinctively pressed closer to his, demanding more.

And through the fogged windows, shadows intertwined in a passionate chaos.

...

Hours later, Fraser sat staring at the faint traces of blood on his trousers, his eyes deep and inscrutable.

He lifted Summer into his arms and draped his suit jacket over her, covering her completely.

Carrying her inside, he headed straight for the bedroom.

Having been thoroughly satisfied, Fraser was in a rare, patient mood. He carefully cleaned her, dried her hair, and tucked her between the silk sheets.

In the living room, Xavier was lounging on the couch, idly flipping through a magazine. When Fraser finally emerged, he had changed into a patterned shirt, the top two buttons undone. Xavier's gaze immediately landed on the lipstick stain near his collarbone. Bright red and unmistakable.

He checked the time. It was already 10 p.m.

He had been waiting for five hours.

Xavier clicked his tongue.

"Good thing this villa is private. Because with the way your car was shaking earlier, anyone would've thought it was an earthquake."