by Shandi Boyes
Regan eyes me curiously, seemingly baffled by my response. “I didn’t mean it was bad. I… just…”
She stops talking as her gaze shifts to the elevator dashboard. She counts the floors, praying it will reach our desired level because she’s forced to give me an explanation for her odd behavior. Her nervous response makes up for her swipe at my kissing abilities. I’ve known her for nearly eight years, and this is the first time I’ve seen her skittish.
With the elevator’s ascent taking too long, she removes her ugly hat before shifting her gaze back to me. “You can’t talk.” Her voice isn’t as jittery as it was earlier. “You didn’t even get hard from me slobbering all over your neck.”
I arch my brow again. Shock is all over my face.
“Don’t deny it. I know you weren’t into it. I felt what you have going on when you pulled my body flush against you.” She waves her hand to the crotch of my pants, ensuring I can’t miss the innuendo in her tone. “Even with my legs wrapped around your stomach, I would have felt that monster if he were coming out to play.”
I throw my head back and laugh. My chuckles are so boisterous, they nearly drown out the ding of the elevator announcing we’ve reached Regan’s floor. After ribbing me with her elbow and halting my laughter, Regan ambles into the corridor. I quickly shadow her, more than happy to skip the peacock parade for another day.
While jabbing her key into her front door, Regan jerks her head to the one opposite it. “What’s the deal with your apartment? Should I call an exterminator?”
I grimace before rubbing at a kink in my neck. “It’s a long story.”
When I follow her into her apartment, the first thing my eyes zoom in on is Hugo. His shoulder is propped against the wall separating the living area from the sleeping quarters. He looks as exhausted as I feel, but he still smiles before pushing off the wall to greet me in the foyer.
“She’s back to sleep,” he advises once he’s standing in front of me. “Regan gave her some Xanax with a glass of wine.”
I snap my furious eyes to Regan. She swallows bleakly before she shoots daggers at Hugo. “She needed to sleep. She’s exhausted. Now she’s guaranteed a minimum of ten hours.”
When her twitching mouth fails to hide her smile, my fists ball. The last time Isabelle mixed Xanax with champagne, she was out cold for over twelve hours.
Needing distance before I end my night with two fewer employees, I shake my head before entering the hallway Hugo just exited. I’m extra careful with the handle of Regan’s guest bedroom door since it’s hanging by its hinges. The whitewashed wood opens with only the slightest creak, revealing Isabelle’s small frame, which is being swallowed by the ginormous king-size bed. The crisp blue bedding makes her hair as dark as night, but it gives her skin an illuminative glow.
The closer I pad to her bedside, the more constrictive the clutch on my heart becomes. She looks peaceful, but no amount of lying could deny the tearstains on her cheeks. After crouching next to the bed, I remove the marks with my thumbs. I’m barely touching her, but even a deep slumber can’t stop her from sensing my presence. She murmurs my name in her sleep, and her nose screws up when I press a kiss to each of her now-dry eyelids.
When a creak sounds through my ears a few minutes later, I crank my head to the side. Hugo’s large frame is blocking the doorway. His arms are folded in front of his chest, and he has a pleading look in his eyes. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
When he nudges his head to the corridor, requesting privacy for our talk, I nod before shifting my focus back to Isabelle. She looks even more peaceful now that the tears on her face have dried.
After tracking my index finger across the cupids bow in her top lip, I meet with Hugo in the hallway as requested. He rubs at a kink in his neck as his anxious eyes float up from the ground. “I think Izzy needs to talk to someone about what she witnessed on the weekend.”
Even with a stabbing pain hitting my chest hard enough to knock me backward, I nod. Since I can’t be by Isabelle’s side to aid her through this, I agree that seeking professional assistance is the next best thing.
Relief washes over Hugo’s face from my approving gesture. “The visual of him hanging…” His shudder will send earthquake warnings across the content. “It’s easily in the top five most horrific things I’ve witnessed, and you know that’s saying something. I saw a shitload of horrendous things during my time in the Air Force.”
I nod again. “I’ll organize an emergency appointment tomorrow morning.”
Like my mood could sour any more, Hugo injects a second dose of annoyance. “Ah… unless her appointment is for tomorrow, it’ll have to wait until we get back.”
I still can’t believe Regan convinced me that Isabelle going away with Brandon for a long weekend was a good idea. The only reprieve I have is that Hugo agreed to stand alongside Isabelle the entire time. His aversion to Brandon will assure Brandon will never get Isabelle alone. Hugo doesn’t dislike many things. Brandon James is not on that list.
“I’ll see if Avery can squeeze Isabelle in tomorrow. If not, I’ll organize a telephone conference.”
Hugo nods as the apprehension in his eyes clears.
“I’ll also email you the information for the hotel you’re staying at this weekend. Catherine organized side-by-side suites at the Wiltshire for you and Isabelle. The gala is being held in the ballroom of a hotel one block over, but they were fully booked.”
As a broad grin stretches across his face, Hugo waggles his brows.
I jerk my chin to Isabelle’s temporary abode. “I’m going to stay with her for a couple of hours.”
Hugo nods. “No worries. Since you’re here, I’ll head out for a few hours and come back in the morning. What time do you have to leave for your appointment?”
I check my watch. “I need to be out of here no later than six. I have an early flight to Vegas.”
His lips twist as he struggles to hold in his real retort. “Okay, I’ll be back before then.”
After lifting his chin in farewell, he strolls out of the hallway. For how fast his pace is, I have an inkling he isn’t going home to catch up on some sleep. With Regan nowhere in sight, and her bedroom door shut, I shrug off my jacket before re-entering Isabelle’s room.
Once my clothing is removed, I slip into her bed. My heart hammers my ribs when her beautiful scent invades my nostrils. I flatten my hand across her stomach before yanking her back until my dick is nestled in the grooves of her perfect ass.
Even with my cock as hard as a rock, and the events of the past week replayed on repeat through my head, I soon fall into a peaceful sleep. Only Isabelle has this power over me. Only she can make it seem light when the darkness of gray shrouds me.
Chapter 18
Isabelle
For the first time, I wake up minus the headache that’s been plaguing me the past week. My mind is clear, my body is warm and comforted, and I feel at peace? After pulling my arms out of the comforter, I have a long, leisure-filled stretch. My muscles are tender, but they are indisputably not as bunched as they were last night. When I glance at the bedside table, my eyes widen when I notice it’s nearly ten o’clock. I slept for over twelve hours. Wowzers!
Although grateful to catch up on some sleep I lost the past week, there’s a reason behind my new fondness of shuteye. The horrifying image at the barn jolted me awake a little after one this morning. It was more intense than any I’d had previously because it meshed together my greatest fears, including my most paramount one—the fear of losing Isaac. My nightmare wasn’t a re-creation of the event that occurred in the barn. My mind switched my fears by replacing the man dangling from the wooden beam with Isaac. The dream was so realistic, I literally couldn’t breathe through the tears streaming down my face.
In a state of panic, I called Isaac. His husky voice suppressed my anxiety, but since fear was curled around my neck asphyxiating my words, I couldn’t explain the panic scorching through my veins. Before I rega
ined the ability to talk, Hugo kicked down my door and gathered me in his arms. Not long after that, Regan handed me two small oval pills she said would help me sleep. Through shaking hands and Regan’s encouraging words, I washed them down with three mouthfuls of expensive, fruit-tasting wine. I don’t recall much after that.
With my suspicion high, but my worry on the down-low, I throw off the covers before scampering out of bed to gather my satin dressing gown from a desk across the room. When a delicious fragrance engulfs my senses, I snap my eyes shut and suck in a giant whiff. The manly scent of Isaac has my heart leaping. His smell is faint since it’s mingled within the freshness of the crisp near-winter morning, but still enough to awaken my libido.
Forgoing my gown, I rush out of the splintered door hanging precariously by its hinges. From following the trail of Isaac’s mouthwatering scent throughout the apartment, my sock-covered feet skid to a halt at the entrance of the kitchen. My shoulders sag when my search for Isaac comes up empty-handed. I was so sure it was his scent I was following, I’m left a little stumped as to why I haven’t found him.
When the aroma of coffee overtakes Isaac’s inviting scent, I pad deeper into the kitchen. Regan is sitting at the island reading a paper and drinking a large mug of steaming hot brew. She must have woken not long before me as she’s still wearing a vibrant red robe that barely contains her cleavage. I cringe when I glance down at my three-quarter cotton galaxy printed pants and dark gray cami that’s incapable of holding in my heavy breasts with its unsexy built-in bra.
Shrugging off the fact that I look like a slob, I help myself to a mug of freshly brewed coffee sitting on the marble countertop in the far corner of the kitchen. Regan’s eyes lift from the paper when she hears my feet shuffling across the tiled floor.
“Morning.” Her groggy voice confirms my assumption that she’s only just awoken.
“Morning.” I hobble to the fridge, praying a shopping fairy delivered some milk overnight. I love coffee—nowhere near as much as Isaac—but it does come a close second, but not when it’s unsweetened and black. “Was Isaac here last night?”
My inner vixen lifts herself off the floor when my eyes zoom in on a carton of milk in the fridge door. After a quick sniff to ensure its freshness, I pour a generous dash into my mug before dawdling to the island.
After bracing my hip on the island, I nurse the warm mug in my hand before seeking Regan’s gaze. She failed to answer my question, which means she is most likely hiding something. She’s only evasive when she’s deceitful.
After a short deliberation, she briskly shakes her head. “Nope, Isaac wasn’t here.”
My brows furrow. I could have sworn the scent infusing the air was Isaac’s tempting smell. Wearily smiling, Regan rises from the barstool, bumps me with her hip before dumping her empty mug into the sink and sauntering out of the room. If that isn’t a clear sign she’s not up for her first interrogation of the day, nothing is.
She stops by Hugo, who is lounging on the reclining chair in the living room before entering the hallway. Guilt smacks me in the chest when Hugo’s tired eyes glance my way. My terrified screams were so loud, I woke him up even with him sleeping on the opposite end of Regan’s imposing penthouse.
“Coffee?” I jingle my half-empty mug in the air. I can’t return the sleep he missed last night, but I can help to ease his tiredness by supplying him with an unlimited amount of caffeine.
Smiling, he nods before joining me in the kitchen. I make his coffee with the three large teaspoons of sugar and milk he requests before handing it to him. He gobbles down two big mouthfuls as if it isn’t scolding hot.
“How did you sleep?”
I blow on my second cup for the day to cool it down before shrugging. “After the whole… incident, I slept well.” After peering at him over the rim of my mug, I give him my best ‘sorry’ face. “I’m sorry if I startled you.”
Hugo smiles against the rim of his mug. “Your screams scared the fucking shit out of me, but don’t apologize for something you can’t help.” He lowers the mug from his mouth. It’s almost half empty. “But from now on, can you sleep with your door unlocked?” In true Hugo form, his eyes dazzle with cheekiness during the last half of his request.
Feeling playful, I poke out my tongue. “I was just ensuring you worked off all that junk you ate yesterday.”
His chuckle has me wondering how stable the footings are in Regan’s building. One more rattle like that might have us toppling to the ground. When his laughter dies down, I ask, “Did you talk to Isaac last night?”
“Yeah. He was kind of shaken up.”
Pain claws at my chest. I was so worked up, I didn’t comprehend how my panic would transcend to Isaac. I didn’t mean to scare him. I just wanted his voice to jolt me back into reality. Hearing his voice affirmed my dream wasn’t real. It was wrong of me to do, but I don’t know how else I could have dragged myself out of my nightmare.
When Hugo spots my forlorn look, he tries to soothe my guilt. “Isaac isn’t upset you called him. He just hates that you went through it alone. No one should have witnessed what you saw. It was…” Instead of finishing his thought, a shudder surges through his body.
The coffee I’ve only just consumed threatens to resurface when the image from my nightmare last night rushes to the forefront of my mind. Having a wondrous imagination can be great except during times like this.
When I brush off a rogue tear spilling down my cheek before I can make an excuse for my senseless babying, Hugo wraps me up in a warm embrace. Because he’s so big, I’m literally suffocated by him. No words spill from his lips as he comforts me. He just runs his hand soothingly down my back, his consoling done in silence. It doesn’t weaken its effect. If anything, a lack of communicating makes it even more compelling.
I don’t know how much time passes before Hugo grumbles, “If you tell Isaac I had my arms around you, I’ll be a dead man walking.”
I inch back before raising my eyes. “It’ll be our little secret.”
A stretch of silence crosses between us. It doesn’t feel uncomfortable. It just feels right. Hugo is undoubtedly attractive. His vibrant blue eyes and ruggedly handsome face would have most girls’ panties moistening long before they take in the rest of his package, but I don’t get the slightest rush of the excitement I get when Isaac is nearby. Hugo’s like the big brother I never had. He’s fun to have around, more annoying than endearing, and more than capable of beating senseless any guy who dares mess with me. It’s kind of cool having a big brother. I just wish my real brother had someone looking out for him as Hugo looks out for me. I’m sure he’s fine. In Vladimir’s world, men outrank women tenfold, but I still can’t help but wonder what happened to Enrique.
When Hugo drags his index finger over his brow, removing tiny beads of sweat formed there, I watch him peculiarly. He looks petrified. I find out why when he says, “Isaac scheduled an appointment for you to… umm… talk to someone today.”
“Jesus, I must have really scared him.”
“It was my idea,” Hugo jumps in, quick to defend his boss. “There’s no shame seeking assistance in a crisis, Izzy.”
The assertiveness in his tone has me wondering if he sought similar assistance when his sister and nephew were killed. The event that led to their deaths was haunting enough, but with the justice system failing to protect the innocent, it made the entire situation extremely prickly.
Taking my silence as confirmation I’ll attend the session Isaac organized, Hugo dumps his empty mug into the sink before hot-footing it out of the kitchen. “Your appointment is in an hour. With how bad traffic is, we should head off shortly.”
I nod. Although I’ve never spoken to a shrink, I agree there’s no dishonor in seeking help when needed. A therapist may help me ensure Isaac isn’t left harboring the brunt of my anxiety. I’ll do anything to lessen the heavy burden he’s carrying.
With time not on my side, I forgo a morning shower, instead throwing on the Levi
jeans and dusty pink cashmere sweater I wore the morning I left Isaac’s apartment after we became an official couple. When I pull the sweater over my head, Isaac’s mouthwatering scent activates every one of my hot buttons. It’s been laundered, but not even a hefty dry-cleaning bill could remove his scent from the cuddly-soft material.
After snagging my satchel off the bedside table, I dart out of the room, narrowly avoiding a second catastrophe by leaving my cell phone on the bedside table.
Chapter 19
Isabelle
When Hugo pulls his beloved baby in the front of a brown brick building in a business complex in Ravenshoe, I shift my curious gaze to him. Compared to the elaborate houses and apartment blocks he’s taken me to the past few weeks, this one is run down and dated. Not speaking a word, he unlatches his belt, opens the driver’s side door, and peels out of his car.
I mimic his movements, my lips quirking in suspicion the further we travel down the concrete path. The foyer inside the office building isn’t any more glamorous than the outside. There’s a wooden staircase that’s overdue to be re-varnished on my right, a hallway table covered with pamphlets to my left, plaques of therapist names and their specialties tacked to brown wooden doors that line the corridor.
When Hugo spots my uneased expression, he tries to settle it. “Don’t let the outdated surroundings fool you. Avery is very good at what she does. She’s just one of the rare few who refuses to work for Isaac exclusively.”
My brows shoot up into the air. “Isaac needs a full-time therapist on his payroll?”
Hugo’s boisterous chuckle bounces around the desolate space. “Not for him. Avery is for his staff and family.”
“Then why does he want her to be exclusive?”
