by Shandi Boyes
The past two weeks have been a major cluster-fuck. The lead singer of my brother’s band was in a critical accident that’s resulted in him being placed in an induced coma. Ravenshoe may not be on the map compared to bustling cities like New York, Paris, and the like, but it has one of the most advanced hospitals in the country. Cormack and I have made sure of it.
After harsh negotiations, my exchange of assets with Vladimir’s crew is scheduled to take place at the end of the month. Isabelle is due in court first thing Monday morning with the hope of having the charges sponged, and Henry, Jr. organized a way for my fighter, Jacob, to fight the current champion in our region, at the cost of over three million dollars. So, you can imagine my fury when Jacob refused to leave Noah’s bedside to participate in the fight he’s been nagging me to arrange for the past five months.
I can’t say I don’t understand his loyalty to his friend, but he has no clue how many hoops I had to jump through to get him that lucrative fight. Not only will he tarnish my reputation if he refuses to fight, but he’ll ruin any chance of fighting professionally again.
When the back-exit door of my club swings open, my gaze lifts from the screen on my phone. My heartbeat freezes when Isabelle emerges from the club looking more ravishing than she did in the surveillance footage I saw of her earlier tonight. She’s always been appetizing, but tonight she’s downright delectable.
Her quick steps falter when she senses my presence. Her head cranks to the left before swinging to the right, no doubt seeking me amongst the people milling outside the club. Hugo is the first to notice me leaning against the back panel of my town car. Although he’s never trained as a bodyguard, his eyes persistently scan his surroundings for potential threats. It’s a bad habit he established before he joined my empire.
After noticing the direction of Hugo’s gaze, Isabelle inhales a big breath before pivoting around to face me. The crippling pain in my chest amplifies when our eyes collide. Hers are the most broken I’ve ever seen them. I try to speak, but my words congest in my throat. Their constrictive hold is nearly as tight as the one strangling my heart from the devastated look on her face.
My heart whacks against my ribs when Isabelle tilts in close to Hugo’s side. I’m not being stung by the bite of jealousy, it’s the words she speaks to him that has my pulse kicking up. “I’ll meet you back at Regan’s.”
Smiling, Hugo nods before bridging the gap between his Chevelle and himself. Blood surges through my veins when Isabelle slowly saunters toward me. Her beautiful scent invades my nostrils when she glides past me to slide into the backseat of my town car.
I slip in after her before raising my eyes to Roger, who is peering at me in the rearview mirror. “To Regan’s apartment.”
Isabelle’s breaths become faster when I raise the privacy partition. She’s not the only one nervous. I can feel butterflies tap-dancing in my stomach, which is utterly ridiculous. I’ve never been nervous. Call me conceited, but I’ve never had a reason to be—until now.
I expel a deep breath before turning my eyes to Isabelle. Her gaze is fixated on the star-filled sky. She’s not taking in the scenery. She’s just trying to ignore the energy bristling between us. When I run my index finger down her forearm, the veins in my hand bulge and the hairs on her arms bristle. Even angry, her body can’t deny me.
It’s a pity the same can’t be said for her words. “Please don’t touch me.”
My hand recoils, scorched by her words. She’s never denied my touch before. For several painstaking minutes, we sit side by side, the distance between us feeling greater than the Amazon River. The further we travel, the more her eyes fill with tears. God, I hope she doesn’t cry. I can’t stand having this much distance between us as it is, let alone if she cries.
After biting on her bottom lip, internally battling to keep her tears at bay, she locks her eyes with mine. “When did it happen?”
To start with, I’m confused about what she’s referring to. So much has happened the last month, I’m struggling to process it all, but it only takes seeing the anger clouding her alluring eyes for me to understand. She’s talking about my incident with Clara.
I hesitate, unsure how to reply without making it seem as if I’m placing the guilt on Isabelle’s shoulders. She’s not to blame for my lapse in judgment, so I don’t want to make her feel that way.
The moisture in Isabelle’s eyes dries when fury takes hold. “Don’t lie to me, Isaac. I’m sick to death of being lied to. Just tell me the truth!”
Her angry voice claws at my heart, forcing me to say words I never wanted to speak. “The night I was arrested.”
She slaps her hand over her face as her face scrunches up. “Oh my God, so it’s my fault.”
I scoot across the seat. “No, this isn’t your fault. I made a mistake, Isabelle. Me. I’m an adult, so I’m more than capable of making my own decisions. This is not your fault.”
She intakes a sharp, quick breath. “But you did it because you were angry at me. You punished me for my disloyalty by betraying me.”
“No, Isabelle.”
She calls out my deceit by narrowing her eyes, proving without a doubt she knows me better than anyone. “I didn’t do it to antagonize you, but when I woke up with Clara in my bed, I wanted you to experience the hurt I was feeling.” My tone is brutally honest, but it also displays my sorrow. “But I never meant to hurt you. I regret ever hurting you.”
She rubs under her eyes to ensure her tears haven’t spilled over before asking, “What exactly happened that night?”
“I don’t know.”
Her eyes narrow as a stern mask of anger taints her face.
“I’m not lying to you, Isabelle. I don’t know what happened. After my house was trashed from the FBI serving the search warrant, I had Roger take me to my apartment, forgetting Clara was there—”
“Why was she there to begin with?”
“She needed a place to stay.”
Isabelle folds her arms in front of her chest. “Her family are billionaires, Isaac. She didn’t need your charity,” she remarks, her voice an angry sneer. “She didn’t want your help, she wanted you.” Her tear-filled eyes drill into me. “And that’s precisely what she got.”
I shake my head. “No. She’ll never have me.”
Even if Isabelle never forgives me, I’ll never be with Clara. That mistake will never happen again. Only now, after Isabelle’s statement, do I realize Clara used my guilt about what happened to Ophelia to deceive me. How could I have been so foolish to fall for her trap? I’m usually more astute than that.
I glance into Isabelle’s sad eyes. “I only belong to you. I’ll only ever belong to you.”
Time freezes when a tear drops down her pale cheek, and the stranglehold on my heart turns crippling. Not giving her the chance to protest, I seize her wrist and pull her toward me until she sits side-straddled on my lap. She fights my hold, but I maintain my grip, refusing to let her go as easily as I did two weeks ago.
After several long minutes of painful sobs and vicious claws at my chest, her body turns lax, and she molds into my torso.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper in a soothing purr. “Let it all out.”
If her submissiveness is the only way I can get her to express her true feelings, I’ll use it. I hate when she cries, but she needs this. If she expels all the hurt tainting her beautiful face, then maybe she can find a way to forgive me.
By the time her sobs lessen, my dress shirt is clinging to my chest, and we’re three-quarters the way home. I collect my scattered composure and exert some of the control I use daily. I need to tether us down before we spiral out of control. Isabelle is the only person who can so gravely falter my composure. Only she rocks my core so hard it hurts.
After peeling her off my chest, I gather her hair off her face, then slant her chin so I can see her beautiful eyes. Her lips quiver when our eyes collide, but she keeps her tears at bay—barely.
“I’m sorry for everyt
hing I did. I made a foolish, drunken mistake. If I could go back and change it, I would, but I can’t. All I can do is say I’m sorry and hope one day you’ll forgive me.”
“I don’t know if I can,” she whimpers as her pained eyes stare into mine.
The honesty in her words brutally twisted the knife in my chest, but even being cut open and exposed won’t have me giving her up. I can’t quell the desire to make her mine.
“I won’t give up, Isabelle. I’ll fight every day until you’re mine again. You belong to me. You’re mine.”
Her quivering lips harden into a snarl. “Is this what that was all about? Jealousy? Did you only show up tonight because another guy attempted to mow your turf? I should have realized that’s why you suddenly showed up! Am I not on your mind until another man starts sniffing around?”
“What?” My tone harshens as my agitation rises. “I gave you the space you wanted. You needed, but I never gave up on you. I never gave up on us. You’re in my thoughts all the time. How can you not see that? Everything I’ve done is for you. Every meeting, every exchange, it’s all been for you. You’ve never left my fucking mind—”
“Except that one time.”
She may as well have slapped me across the face as her words sting more than any blow she could inflict. When she attempts to move off my lap, I clutch onto her tightly. I’ll physically tie myself to her if I have to. I’ll do anything to keep her secured to me.
Isabelle tries to mask her moan with a huff, but I still hear it. She wants to be taken care of and nurtured—until she’s in the bedroom. There, she loves being controlled, but I can’t use her submissiveness to my advantage. In the past, it was different. She wanted to be sexually tortured into forgiveness. She enjoyed it, but this time, she isn’t the one pleading for clemency. I should be on my knees, not her.
“You once told me I was fighting a battle bigger than us both. That saying goes for you, too, Isabelle. You can fight it all you want, but your body wants me, your heart wants me. You want me.”
She doesn’t attempt to refute my statement, but even if she did, her eyes would convey her deceit. She yearns for me as profoundly as I crave her.
When I lift my hand to her face, I pray she doesn’t pull away. Air hisses between my teeth when my thumb skims over lips fantasies were made from. After tracing the cupids bow on her top lip, I set to work on removing the tearstains marking her ashen face.
Just as I’m about to cup her cheek, praying she’ll nuzzle into my embrace, Roger pulls into the underground garage at Regan’s apartment building. When I peer out the heavily-tinted windows, I spot Hugo leaning on the whitewashed brick wall. His knee is bent, and his foot is braced on the brickwork. He pushes off the wall when he detects our approach.
I turn my gaze back to Isabelle. After gathering her trembling hands in mine, I press a kiss to her palms before placing them over my heart. “When you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I’ll be waiting for you,” I quote. “Once you realize you’re fighting a battle bigger than us both, I’ll be waiting for you.”
My heart beats wildly when I open the back-passenger door, slide out, then offer my hand to assist Isabelle out. If I had it my way, she wouldn’t be leaving my car, but if I want any chance of winning her back, I need to give her time to process the confusion no doubt hindering her mind.
Every step she takes away from me cuts me open more, baring my heart to the world, but I know this is the right thing to do. When she enters the elevator, her gaze lifts from the ground. Relief courses through me when I notice her tears have dried. Her eyes aren’t as bright as they usually are, but the quickest flash of a smile before the elevator doors snap shut gives me the slightest slither of hope.
Chapter 32
Isabelle
When I saunter into the kitchen, Regan’s eyes pop over the newspaper she’s reading. “Hey, you guys came home earlier than expected last night.”
Air expels from my nostrils. “Yeah, our plans were altered.” By your boss threatening harm to another.
I switch on the rarely used electric kettle. Although my thumping head would appreciate a kick of caffeine, my overtired body needs the soothing effect of a cup of tea.
When I dump my used tea bag into the bin, my mouth becomes ajar. There’s a can of chocolate frosting in the bottom of the receptacle.
A smile curls on my mouth as I pace to the fridge to remove the carton of milk. “What did you get up to last night?” I keep my tone void of any accusations. I don’t want to scare Regan from a one-on-one girlie chat. It will be nice to discuss a relationship that doesn’t center around my disastrous one.
Regan’s shoulder almost touches her ear when she shrugs. “Nothing much.” Her lips twitch when she attempts to conceal her smile.
I step away from the fridge before hitting her with the best ‘bullshit’ face I can muster. “Fine, it was more than nothing. It was huge!”
A giggle rumbles up my throat. I’m not laughing at her statement. I’m smiling at the carefree, down-to-earth Regan I rarely see. Her personality is as high-strung as Isaac’s. She keeps her emotions guarded from prying spectators, so only a very select few get the privilege of seeing both sides of her enigmatic personality.
I place a dash of milk into my steaming hot tea before steering our conversation into unfamiliar territory. “Anyone I know?”
Regan’s carefree attitude switches from friend to kickass lawyer more quickly than a flash of lightning. “Nope.”
The longer I stare at her, the more her eyes glance at random items in her kitchen. Small cracks are forming in her composure, but before I can get her to fully crack, Hugo strides into the kitchen.
“Morning.”
He friskily winks before helping himself to a large mug of steaming hot brew. I pout as my inner vixen screams obscenities at the top of her lungs. She’s already fuming mad that I walked away from Isaac last night, and now her anger is amplified from being denied her early morning pick-me-up.
It took all my strength to walk away from Isaac last night. Even though I said I’d never forgive him, the more I glanced into his eyes, the more my inhibitions dissipated. I’ve always said his eyes are the gateway to his soul, but last night, I couldn’t see any deceit reflecting back at me. All they exposed was that he’s hurting as much as I am. The pain in his eyes maimed my heart. They were the main reason I couldn’t hold back my tears for a second longer.
I don’t know how long I cried in Isaac’s arms, but it felt good releasing all the pent-up hurt I’ve been harboring the past two weeks. It cleared some of the fog in my head and allowed me to start looking at the facts more rationally.
After he dropped me home, I rushed into my room to download the Lady Gaga song Harlow told me about earlier. It is the perfect song to express how I am feeling. It’s about having a million reasons to leave someone, but only needing one to stay. There are a million reasons why Isaac and I should have never become a couple, but there’s only one reason I can’t walk away from him. It’s the one thing that will tether me to him for eternity, even if we aren’t a couple. He owns my soul.
My thoughts are interrupted by Hugo waving his massive hand in front of my face.
“Pardon? Did you say something?”
He chuckles. “I was asking if you’ll be ready to leave soon for your appointment with Avery?”
My gaze shoots to the clock on the microwave. “Shit.” With everything that happened last night, I forgot Dr. Avery scheduled me a Sunday morning appointment. “I’ll be ready in five,” I promise before darting to my room.
The accuracy of my timing is a little askew. Fifteen minutes later, I’m sitting in the passenger seat of Hugo’s baby. He’s back to wearing his standard work attire—a black suit with a white dress shirt, but the shadow on his jaw is darker since our rushed departure didn’t give him time to shave.
Upon feeling the heat of my gaze, his head slants my way. “What?”
“You’re hard for me to read.” I
thought Isaac was the only man protecting a bucket-load of secrets, but Hugo’s glacier-blue eyes are just as full. “You’re a huge box of secrets I want to unravel.”
He smiles, but the way his grip on the steering wheel tightens reveals his true response to my statement. He’s as locked up as a Fort Knox.
With a huff, I float my eyes back to the scenery flicking past my window. People are milling on the sidewalks, hustling to ensure all their to-do tasks are ticked off before Christmas arrives in a little over a week.
A rock settles in my stomach. I had intended to spend my first Christmas in Ravenshoe with Isaac. Now I don’t know where I’ll be. If Regan gets the charges dropped, what happens to me then?
My attention is diverted from outside when air whizzes between Hugo’s teeth. “I can’t believe I’m going to do this… again.” As his eyes drift between the traffic and me, his grip on the steering wheel tightens. “There’s only one way to fully get to know someone.” He pauses long enough to pique my interest before asking, “Do you want to play twenty questions?”
After nodding, I offer for him to go first, hoping it will ease the worry fettering his face.
It does—somewhat.
He takes a few moments devising a response before asking, “Why do you hate pumpkin so much?”
I giggle, grateful he didn’t come out swinging. “Because it’s disgusting.” My last word is drenched with sarcasm. “My Dedushka force me to eat it when I was younger. I gagged the entire time. When his back was turned, Uncle Tobias scraped my plate onto the floor so the dog could eat it, but pumpkin is so disgusting, even he refused it.”
Hugo’s chuckle booms through my chest. “You need to try pumpkin pie because nothing wrapped in pastry is disgusting.” His gaze shifts from the road to me. “Your turn.”
I take my time thinking about a suitable question. I have so many I want to ask him, but I don’t want to force him to share privy information unless he wants to, so I keep it simple. “How long have you owned your baby?”
