by Shandi Boyes
I lick my lips, soothing their dryness so I can continue with my story before I lose the nerve. “She has a child. A little boy.”
The temperature in the room turns roasting when Isaac’s eyes rocket back to mine. Sweat beads on my neck before it trickles down my spine.
“How old?” His voice is the deepest I’ve ever heard it.
“At a guess, I'd say around six.”
Knuckles popping echo around the room before he makes a beeline for the door. I stand frozen for a beat, my mind unable to comprehend what’s transpiring. After several heart-thrashing seconds, I snub the stabbing tearing my heart in two and take off after him. My lungs stop working when I discover him in the master suite packing an overnight bag. Every nightmare I imagined comes to fruition as I watch him move around the room, gathering enough necessities to last him a minimum of three days.
I sit on the bed, not wanting to impede his quest to pack quickly. My heart aches and my stomach is churning, but I predicted this exact reaction.
I just wish it didn’t hurt so much.
As he secures the zipper on his bag, his eyes float over my face for the quickest second. His brows furrow, seemingly surprised, like he’s already forgotten I’m here.
“Isabelle. I have to go. I have to do this.”
Unable to speak through the lump in my throat, I simply nod. The air is sucked from my lungs when he crouches down in front of me. Having his gorgeous face this close is just cruel when I’m seconds from losing him. After cupping my cheeks, he presses a quick peck to the edge of my quivering mouth, stands, then leaves without so much of a backward glance.
The rumbling of his engine sounds through the eerie quietness of his house a few minutes later. Then not long after that, the silence matches the sentiments of my heart—empty and hollow.
I crawl into a ball in the middle of our bed and sob, hurt he could leave me so quickly, and how easy it was for him to forget the promises we’ve made to each other the past few months.
I cry and cry until there are no tears left.
The next morning, the devastation of my loss is still twisting my stomach, but as the day goes on, it’s joined by the piquant grasp of anger. My annoyance is so paramount, it visibly shakes through my body, flushing my skin with a hue of pink.
Ignoring the pain shredding my chest into pieces, I pad to the walk-in closet and find the sluttiest outfit I have before preparing my makeup for a night out on the town. My spur-of-the-moment decision to go dancing with Cate has been incited by Isaac’s lack of communication all day. He maintained complete radio silence. Not a text. Not a phone call. Not even a Facebook message. Nothing.
Once I have my face perfectly made up, I guzzle down the last mouthful of chardonnay in the bottle before making my way downstairs. My footing is a little rickety, not just because of the dangerously high stilettos I'm wearing, but because I’ve had a few glasses of liquid courage to ensure I can leave Isaac’s residence unaccompanied and for the last time. Even though my levelheadedness evades me whenever I'm in Isaac’s presence, I'm smart enough to know only a fool would remain living in a man’s house that she no longer has any claim to.
Pain grips my heart when I snag my clutch purse from the kitchen counter and amble toward the front door. I place my cell phone and engagement ring into the crystal bowl on the entry table, along with a handwritten note for Isaac, choosing the coward’s way out. I'm too much of a chicken to confront him in person, and this way, I won’t have to witness seeing him with Ophelia. My heart would never survive seeing that.
After one final glance of the foyer, I head outside to wait for the taxi I called an hour ago, my heart cracking more with every step I take.
Cate greets me at the front of The Dungeon parking lot with a big grin. She's wearing a pink, sleeveless sequined dress that showcases her petite body in a fitting light. Her shoes are sparkly and black, adding a few inches to her short stature, and her tangy citrus smell engulfs me when she throws her arms around my neck.
“Izzy, you look like a naughty little devil,” she playfully chides when she takes in my super tight, black lace mini dress that leaves nothing to the imagination. I was aiming for the naughty devil look, so her comment gives credit to my outfit selection.
“Hi, Cate, you look ravishing.”
After wrapping her arm around the crook of my elbow, she guides us toward the entrance of the nightclub. “We better get you inside before Isaac catches sight of you in that dress. He’ll lock you up so the drove of men can’t charge at you.”
I stiffen for only a second. Thankfully, it isn’t long enough for Cate to notice. I’m not surprised to observe the line to enter The Dungeon stretches for as far as the eye can see. That can be expected, considering it’s New Year’s Eve. That’s the reason my anger is even more supreme today. Isaac only told me days ago that he couldn’t take any time off during this time of the year. But last night, he left without a word being spoken to any of his staff members. After fielding calls from Roger and Tina today on his home landline, I soon realized they're as much in the dark as I am to Isaac’s current location.
I know where he is. My heart just chooses to ignore the facts displayed in front of it.
“Travis, this is Cormack’s sister, Cate. Cate, this is Travis.” My voice only slightly slurs during my introduction since the last few glasses of chardonnay are pumping into my veins.
“Wowzers, your head is nearly as big as my whole body.” Cate’s eyes bug before they appreciatively scan the monster-size bouncer in front of us.
I snort before my panicked eyes shoot to Travis, wanting to gauge his reaction to Cate’s jibe. I’m surprised when I notice his beaming white smile. This is the first time I’ve seen his smile.
I gag when Travis mutters, “That’s not even my biggest body part.”
“That’s disgusting.” I drag a shocked-faced Cate into the jam-packed nightclub. “He’d snap you in half.”
Cate’s chuckle gains her the attention of a handful of men. “Isn’t that the point?”
Now, I understand why Harlow has become Ms. Party Queen the past few months. I’ve only spent five minutes with Cate, and I can already tell my night is going to be interesting, indeed.
After an hour of dancing to the latest club hits, I head to the bar, wanting to replenish the fluids I’ve lost bumping and grinding with Cate. The Dungeon has always been popular with the younger crowd due to its ‘eighteen-plus’ drawcard, but tonight, it’s so packed, I wouldn’t be surprised if the fire department arrives to shut them down for being over-capacity.
When the good-looking male bartender serves me the margarita I ordered, I move down the bar hoping to find a spare stool to rest my tired feet. A grin tugs my lips high when I spot a vacant spot right down the very end.
“Excuse me, is this seat taken?” I ask a gentleman in his mid-twenties with long blond hair. I have to shout to project my voice over the thumping music blaring out of the speakers.
He stops talking to his male companion and turns to face me. He grins as his green eyes scan my body. After his vivid assessment is finalized, his eyes return to my face. “Not at all, please take a seat.”
I plop into the seat before shifting my gaze to seek Cate amongst the swarm of sweaty bodies moving in sync to the bass of the music. She wanted to continue dancing with a group of guys and girls her age when I said I was going to order a drink.
The glimmering of her sequined dress is the first thing I spot, closely followed by her broad smile. I was apprehensive when she texted me this morning about going out tonight, but now that I’m here, I’m glad she encouraged me to let loose. It’s nice to have a distraction from the twisting pain in my heart.
My attention is diverted from the dance floor when the blond man next to me drags his stool close enough, his heated breaths fan my earlobe. My focus shifts to him just as his friend whispers something in his ear. The blond’s eyes widen, and he nods before he excuses himself, leaving a vacant chair next to me.<
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I shrug at his weirdness before continuing with my love of people watching.
Thirty minutes later, the snarky chuckle of Tina booms through my ears. I stop slyly sniffing my armpit to lift my confused gaze to her. She snarls arrogantly before she continues serving patrons demanding service.
“You don’t smell,” advises the male bartender who served me earlier.
“Are you sure?”
For the last thirty minutes, I’ve been sitting in the same position with two spare stools on each side of me. The bar is so packed, everyone should be scrounging for a chair, but numerous partygoers have chosen to remain standing instead of occupying the free spaces next to me. I was sweating profusely on the dance floor earlier, but I wasn’t aware my perspiring smell was that off-putting.
The bartender replenishes my cocktail glass before his hazel eyes peer into my self-conscious gaze. “Isaac put out a warning.”
My brows scrunch. “A warning?”
“Yep. If any guy gets too close to you, they’ll cop the wrath of his fury.”
“Pardon me?” My tone is breathy from my heart rate kicking up a notch.
He cranks his head to check Tina’s location before he places his cocktail mixer onto the glistening countertop. The muscles in his arms flex when he stretches across the bar. “You probably don’t remember me, but we danced a few weeks ago in the VIP section of Isaac’s club in Hopeton.”
My eyes widen so they can adequately scan his face. Now that he mentions it, I do remember him. Although, unfortunately, his dancing skills aren’t on par with his strikingly handsome facial features.
When he sees my pale cheeks, he chuckles. “I don’t usually dance like that. That night, we were instructed on how we could interact with you, including how we could dance,” His face screws up in disgust.
“We?”
He nods. “Everyone in the VIP section but you and your friends were employees of Isaac’s.”
I choke on my drink. “Are you shitting me?”
He shakes his head. “Ever since that night, you’ve become known as the ‘untouchable girl.’ No man in this town is game to sit next to you, let alone dance with you, after the warning Isaac issued.”
My mouth gapes more and more with every word he speaks, and my earlier anger rushes back to the surface. “So if I wanted to find a dance partner right now, I'd be rejected? Is that what you're telling me?”
His lips twist before he nods. “They're too scared to go against a man like Isaac.”
“Then why are you telling me this? Aren’t you scared Isaac will find out?” I take another sip of my cocktail, needing something to calm the anger building like an out-of-control wildfire in my gut.
He chuckles. “I’ve just finished my doctorate and am moving to California in the new year. This is my last shift here.”
I slant my head to the side and cock my brow. “So, do you have a dance partner for when the clock strikes twelve?” My tone is full of wittiness since the cocktails are mixing nicely with the earlier chardonnays.
He chuckles again. “You're gorgeous, but I’m not that stupid. Even living on the other side of the country won’t stop Isaac from hunting me down.”
I huff and roll my eyes.
“But I’m brave enough to ignore his rules on how many drinks you can have.”
“He has rules on that as well?” My tone is lower since anger has placed a firm grip around my throat.
He nods and smirks. “But don’t worry, baby girl, I’ve got you covered,” he says with a cheeky wink as he refills my cocktail glass.
“Thank you…”
“Dante,” he fills in. After wiping off the condensation from his hand down his black-waisted apron, he offers it to me to shake.
Everything Dante said was true. For two hours straight, I’ve been propositioning men to dance. I’ve gone from eighteen-year-old boys whose faces are covered in pimples, to older, creepy looking men who are only hitting the club scene to secure a piece of eye candy for the night. Every time I’ve asked them to dance, they readily agree—until recognition dawns at to why I appear familiar.
Cate has been in hysterics watching my failed attempts at securing a dance partner, but mercifully, for the past half an hour, her attention has been rapt on a handsome young man sporting a large cowboy hat. Well, he was wearing a cowboy hat. She knocked it off when weaving her fingers through his hair.
“No luck?” Dante chuckles while he places another cocktail in front of me.
“No. Anyone would swear I was asking them to donate a kidney instead of requesting a dance.”
I take a sizable gulp of my cocktail, wanting to wash away the images of Isaac and Ophelia that have been filtering through my mind nonstop since last night. By keeping my brain hazed with the buzz of alcohol, I can momentarily forget the cluster-fuck hampering my heart.
Once I’ve finished my latest cocktail at a record-setting pace, I place the empty glass onto the counter.
“Can I buy you another?”
My pupils dilate as my surprised gaze shoots to Dante. He purses his lips before roaming his eyes over the mysterious stranger standing next to me. When he nods in approval, I slant my head to the side. My eyes bulge when I'm met with a man whose strikingly handsome good looks are nearly as stellar as Isaac’s. His sandy blond hair is a little overdue for a trim, and his eyes are light brown. His jaw is strong and defined, and his nose is perfectly straight. If I had to guess his age, I'd say late twenties.
My heart flutters a little faster when he smiles at my avid assessment of his face and body. His smile is so big, two small dimples adorn his cheeks. “Umm… that will be great.” I gesture for him to sit in the spare seat next to me.
He does before ordering another Sex on the Beach for me and a scotch on the rocks for himself from Dante. I stare at him peculiarly, trying to fathom why he's so much braver than any other man here tonight.
“Do you come here often?” I interrogate while sipping on my newly replenished cocktail since my head is spinning.
He takes a mouthful of his scotch before turning his gaze to me. “No, I'm here on business.”
My brows arch as I take another sip of my drink. Now I understand why he's so brave. “Do you come to Ravenshoe often?”
“No, this is my first time here.”
“Do you want to dance?” I query brazenly.
He smiles a panty-drenching smirk. “Sure.”
Excitement beams out of me that I’ve finally secured a dance partner. When I jump up from my seat, I nearly lose my footing. He stabilizes me before downing his shot of whiskey and following me onto the dance floor.
The heat in the club reaches boiling point as the clock inches closer to midnight. My dance companion, Ayden, and I have been dancing to the latest club hits the past forty-five minutes. His dance moves have never gone beyond an inappropriate level, but he has ground his impressive crotch against my backside on numerous occasions—not by choice. There are too many people in one space to maintain an appropriate distance.
As the countdown to the new year merges closer, so do Ayden and I. Our dance moves become more seductive when the alcohol in my blood turns potent.
With only five minutes remaining in the year, Ayden wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me into his firm body. His hips swing seductively in time to the fast beat of the music as his fingertips graze the curve on my backside.
When there's only one minute remaining until midnight, the countdown on the large digital clock hanging over the dance floor commences. My excited, drunken cheers halt at forty-eight seconds when my arm is suddenly seized, and I’m dragged off the dance floor. My heart silently prays it’s Isaac, but with the lack of a jolting zing inflicting my arm, my body knows it isn’t him.
“What the hell are you doing, Izzy?” Hugo asks as his eyes dart between mine.
“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m dancing.”
When I attempt to pad away from him the best I can in my drunken state
, he grabs my wrist, stopping my hasty steps. “Dancing? You're not dancing. You're provoking Isaac, trying to force his hand.”
I shake my head, causing a rush of queasiness to hit my stomach. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. He left, Hugo! He walked without so much of a backward glance. He left me. So I’m free to do whatever I please.”
I squirm out of his tight grip before stumbling back to Ayden, my eyes flicking up to the countdown clock on the way. There are only thirty seconds left of this despicable year, and I fully plan on kissing it good riddance with the obligatory midnight kiss.
“Bullshit, Izzy.” Hugo steps between Ayden and me. “You, yourself, had to see if the claims were true, but you don’t expect Isaac to react the same? You're using that guy.” He hooks his thumb to Ayden, who is watching our exchange. “All because you want to antagonize Isaac. All because you want to force him to react.”
I arrogantly shake my head, denying his accusations.
“If it isn’t that, then why go to all this effort? What’s the purpose? A free drink? A grope on the dance floor? A stupid midnight kiss?”
“Yes!” I yell as anger maims my heart. “Because that’s probably what he’s doing with her right now. He's probably kissing her right now.” Or god knows what else.
“That’s what you want? A kiss? All this heartache for a pathetic kiss on New Year’s Eve?”
I grit my teeth and angrily glare at Hugo. He can’t comprehend the hurt I'm feeling or know how hollow I feel since there’s a massive hole where my heart once belonged.
I angrily shake my head before pivoting on my heels and heading back to Ayden. Just as the clock commences its ten-second countdown, Hugo once again yanks me back his way. Before I can fathom a response, let alone articulate it, my mouth is engulfed by a pair of deliciously plump lips. The final five second countdown of the year chants through my ears as Hugo’s warm tongue licks the seam of my lips before it delves inside my mouth, sampling and tasting every inch.
