Abandoned No More: Too Late To Love Me

Fraser's glacial look cut right through Xavier.

Without a word, he strode to the bar, grabbed a bottle of whiskey, and poured a generous amount into a glass. He downed it in one long swallow. The liquor's burn finally scoured away the suffocating heat still clinging to him from the night.

Xavier clicked his tongue.

"Well, well," he drawled. "Looks like our man finally got lucky. Guess my little stash isn't needed anymore, huh? So, who's the woman that managed to snare our untouchable big boss?"

Xavier leaned forward, his curiosity practically buzzing in the air.

Fraser was known in business circles as ruthless and cold. Decisive. Merciless. Always in control. But even in their private circle, Fraser was a world apart from men like Xavier.

Xavier, on the other hand, liked to unwind with alcohol and actresses. When a woman caught his interest, a little money was usually enough for a night of pleasure.

Fraser played, too, but on his own terms. Auto racing, surfing, skydiving, boxing... What drew him was the adrenaline. Women? Too many complications.

Just as Xavier assumed he wouldn't get an answer, Fraser calmly set his empty glass on the counter.

He spun the glass with his fingertips, the reflected light dancing across its surface. His deep eyes remained impassive when he finally spoke.

"Summer Stewart."

Xavier froze. He hadn't expected that.

Lately, Summer's name had been all over high society.

Not because the Stewart family was influential, but because she was Trevor Larson's fiancée.

Trevor and Fraser had always been business rivals.

Both were among Havenbrook's elite, but they moved in different worlds.

Recently, Trevor had made headlines by throwing a lavish wedding ceremony for his first love, Peyton. The whole city was talking about it. Naturally, his actual fiancée, Summer, had become the city's laughingstock.

Even Xavier had heard the gossip.

"Don't tell me you did it just to mess with Trevor?" he asked. "If you really wanted to get to him, Peyton would have been the better choice. Summer's a nobody now."

Fraser's cutting gaze landed on him, and the air in the room seemed to drop twenty degrees.

A shiver ran down Xavier's spine.

Fraser sneered.

"You really think Trevor is worth my time?"

Xavier managed an awkward smile.

"Sure, Trevor isn't worth your attention. But Summer... she's still his fiancée. You two... let's just say it's a delicate situation."

He didn't dare say what he was really thinking: technically, that made Fraser... a homewrecker.

Fraser's eyes narrowed.

"You have a remarkable talent for saying the wrong thing."

Xavier shut his mouth instantly. For a moment, he genuinely wondered if Fraser might have his tongue cut out.

"Get out before I make sure you never speak again."

"Alright, alright, I'm going," Xavier muttered, raising his hands in surrender.

He'd clearly hit a nerve, and he knew better than to stick around. He didn't need to be told twice and quickly made himself scarce.

A few moments later, a private jet lifted off into the night sky.

Summer, meanwhile, was surfacing from a grueling few hours.

When the effects of the drug finally wore off, all that remained was a crushing exhaustion, as if every bone and muscle had been taken apart and pieced back together incorrectly.

Suddenly, the deafening roar of a plane engine shook the villa.

She stirred, her body still feeling numb, and slowly opened her eyes.

When she sat up, the silk sheet slid from her body, revealing skin littered with the faint marks of the night's passion. The memories came crashing back. She'd slept with Fraser.

Worse—she'd been the one to seduce him.

Her face burned with humiliation. The realization left her reeling.

Suddenly, the bedroom door creaked open.

On pure reflex, Summer dropped back onto the mattress, pulling the blanket up to her chin and clutching it with all her strength.

Slow, steady footsteps approached the bed. She held her breath. Her lashes trembled, her toes curled.

Even with her eyes squeezed shut, she could feel Fraser's burning gaze slide over her.

And just as the tension became unbearable—

"Miss Stewart. We've already slept together. Surely you're not going to pretend it didn't happen?"

His deep, lazy voice echoed through the room.

Summer's heart hammered against her ribs. Slowly, she opened her eyes.

Fraser stood near the bed, tall and broad-shouldered, his arms crossed over his chest. His dark, calm gaze was so piercing it felt like it could see right through her.

It was the first time she'd seen him this close, this clearly.

He wore a patterned shirt, the top buttons undone, revealing the sharp line of his collarbone. His posture was relaxed, but a quiet intensity radiated from him.

His features were strikingly beautiful— deep-set eyes, a straight nose, and a clean-cut jaw, as if chiselled from marble. Trevor, by contrast, had always possessed a distant coldness. Fraser? There was something sharp and almost mischievous at the corners of his eyes. And when he smiled, a subtle but very real note of danger slipped through.

Summer clutched the blanket tighter.

"Fraser, I... I didn't mean to," she stammered. "I was drugged—that's the only reason I..."

She broke off, flustered.

"What... what do you want from me?"

She'd never imagined sleeping with the most powerful man in Havenbrook.

There was no way to explain this.

Fraser arched a brow.

Her wavy hair framed a delicate face, her light eyes shining with genuine confusion. She had a fragile kind of beauty, her pale skin still faintly bruised from his touch.

Fraser's gaze darkened. He leaned nonchalantly against the wall, his tone slow and mocking.

"And how, exactly, do you plan to make it up to me?"

Summer hesitated.

"I... I could take you to dinner?"

Fraser let out a short, sharp laugh.

"You think I need you to buy me dinner?"

Right. That was stupid.

Money, then? Impossible. The Graham family was the richest in Havenbrook, worth tens of billions. He wouldn't even glance at her modest bank account.

She lifted her eyes timidly.

"Then... can you at least give me a hint?"

It had been her first time. With anyone.

And now... what was she supposed to do?

If it had been any other man, she would have felt dirty and ashamed. But this was Fraser Graham. And she'd been the one to pounce on him. Technically... didn't that make her the victor?

Fraser suddenly leaned in, sliding two fingers under her chin to tilt her face up to his. Their gazes locked.

A faint smile curved his lips.

"Summer, I made sure you were satisfied."

He paused, his deep voice laced with provocation.

"As for compensation... now it's your turn to satisfy me."

Summer's mind went blank.

Under the influence of the drug, she'd been bold, reckless, completely out of control.

But now, she was lucid. And she knew she couldn't handle it.

Fraser didn't give her time to think. His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her effortlessly onto his lap.

Without hesitation, he lowered his head and captured her lips.

His breath, his touch, his gaze... everything about him screamed desire.

Until a memory surfaced in her mind.

Trevor's birthday.

She had put her whole heart into it, spending hours baking a chocolate cake from scratch. That night, she had planned to give him the most precious thing she had—herself. She had chosen a bold black dress, short and with a plunging neckline. She had waited.

But, as always, Peyton had suddenly fallen "ill." And, as always, Trevor never showed up.

She'd spent the night alone, her eyes glassy, staring at a cake she no longer had any desire to taste.

The dress she'd meant to wear for him had become a bitter memory, shoved to the back of her closet, where she never had to look at it again.

A knot of shame and pain tightened in her chest— for all the love she had wasted.

Suddenly, a sharp nip to her earlobe yanked her back to reality.

Her eyes flew open.

Fraser had straightened, braced on one arm, looming over her.

His dark gaze held hers.

"Distracted?"

An icy shiver traveled down her spine. She'd been thinking about Trevor.

While she was with Fraser.

Any man would fly into a rage.

Fraser's voice remained calm, but each word carried a veiled threat.

"Miss Stewart, it seems I'm not fascinating enough to hold your attention."

Summer's heart lurched with panic.

She'd heard the rumors about Fraser Graham, the king of Havenbrook.

Cold, ruthless, and merciless to anyone who crossed him.

If she angered him, he wouldn't let her get away with it.

"I... I didn't mean to," she stammered.

A smile curved Fraser's lips.

A slow, dangerous smile.

"It's nothing."

Summer exhaled quietly, a wave of relief washing over her.

For now.

Then, in one fluid motion, he flipped her over and pulled her flush against him. His husky voice slid into her ear, commanding and hot.

"This time, you take the lead."