The Final Chapter: Enigma, #4

by Shandi Boyes

  I pulled her away from me to stare at her. My mind was spiraling, unable to grasp reality. I had wanted her to be alive for years, so when she stood in front of me, as beautiful as the day I first laid my eyes on her, I was speechless.

  With a broad grin, she enclosed her hand over mine and guided us down the concrete sidewalk of the pharmacy. My brow arched when she took a left at the end of the path to follow it to a white cottage attached to the brick building. The inside of the house was basic but clean. The walls in the living area were white wood panels, and there was an open, brick fireplace in the middle.

  Ophelia shrugged off her jacket before moving into the compact kitchen. As my eyes tracked her, they caught sight of a collection of photos on top of the fireplace. Pacing over, I picked up a photo of Ophelia with a small boy and a man with dark brown hair. My eyes scanned the young boy’s face, seeking any similarities to me. He had his mother’s light brown eyes, but no identifiable features of mine. Although my brother is proof you can never rely on appearance to clarify paternity.

  My brows furrowed when Ophelia questioned, “Are you still friends with Cormack?” like we were long-lost friends reacquainting after an extended period of absence, instead of her rising from the ashes.

  I placed the frame onto the mantle, then joined her in the kitchen. Her plump lips slumped when I failed to answer her question, but she hid it by gesturing for me to sit in one of the chairs around her four-seater dining table. I remained standing.

  Her hand tremored when she gave me a mug full of double-strength coffee, surprising me that she still remembered how I liked my brew. She sat in the chair closest to me while sipping on a mug of tea. I placed my untouched coffee onto the kitchen counter, too shocked that she was sitting in front of me, uninjured, unharmed, perfectly fine to drink.

  Several uncomfortable minutes later, her large gulp was easily audible in the awkward silence. After placing her half-empty mug onto the chipped tabletop, her eyes lifted to mine. They were definitely lighter than I’d recalled.

  “I was so angry after your fight with CJ that I made a stupid decision.”

  I remained quiet, still perplexed and silently brooding.

  “An FBI agent named Tobias had been undercover in our family for a few years. We’d discussed the possibility of him getting me out of that industry numerous times, but since there was no real threat to my safety, and I was an adult, we never had any reason to act on it. Until the night of the fight.”

  My heart was beating wildly, but my composure didn’t allude to it.

  “My father was furious. Not just because you beat his number one fighter and still refused to fight under him, but because I disgraced the family.”

  My jaw muscle tensed as memories of that night ran through my head.

  “I was approached by my father a few months before you and Cormack arrived at Buck’s Diner for dinner the night we met.”

  When she turned her gaze to the tabletop, I placed my hand under her chin and hoisted her face high, wanting her to look at me while she explained how I was left carrying the burden of her death the past six years.

  “He wanted me to date you, to force you to fight for him.”

  The smallest grin carved on my mouth as I shook my head. Henry, Sr. was right all along. He always said Ophelia was a ruse by Col to get me to fight under his entity.

  “But I refused.”

  My eyes snapped to her, seeking any dishonesty in her statement. She was telling the truth.

  “That’s why I denied every advance you made because I knew what he was planning to do. I convinced him you weren’t interested in me. After three months, he stopped asking about you. I assumed he had given up.” A smile curled on her lips. “But you didn’t give up so easily. You were so darn persistent.”

  Air puffed out of my nostrils as I stifled a chuckle. Even back then, when I wanted something, I never gave up. It’s part of my stubborn nature.

  “Someone in the family discovered we were dating and informed my father. Hence, the arrangement of the fight that night. I don’t know what transpired after you left the warehouse, but Tobias overheard something and advised me that the only way I could get out safely was if we staged an accident that very night.” She exhaled sharply. “Since CJ already had extensive injuries, it made the story of an accident even easier to cover up. I don’t know whose body was in the wreckage, Tobias never informed me, but I’ve never been approached by anyone from my old life.” Her eyes darted between mine. “Until now.”

  I stayed quiet, my astuteness scattered and reeling out of control. My bewilderment increased when a screen door creaking opened shrilled into the room. A young boy entered a few moments later, his eager steps into the kitchen faltering when he noticed me in the room. He studied me with just as much interest as I assessed him. He had a lot of the Petretti genes in him, so I couldn’t tell if he were my son.

  Ophelia jumped up from her chair and raced to the front door, where she greeted a gentleman with strands of silver streaks at the sides of his dark hair and a heavy set of wrinkles. He balked and took a step backward when he noticed me standing in the kitchen. He clearly knew who I was.

  “Thank you, Anthony.” Ophelia snagged the child’s backpack from his hand before ushering him out onto the front patio.

  His brows furrowed at her abruptness, but I missed what he said since my attention shifted to the small boy tugging on my trousers. “Who are you?”

  He gave me a stern look, impressing me with his gall. Most men quiver in their boots at the sight of me, but he stood his ground, determined to protect his mother from the stranger lurking in her kitchen.

  “Isaac.” I offered him my hand to shake.

  His stern scowl deepened before he accepted my offer. “Bobby.”

  When he moved to the fridge to remove a carton of orange juice, Ophelia glided past me to aid him with filling a plastic cup before giving him two cookies out of a jar on the counter. Even though her composure didn’t allude to any discomfort, the tremor of her hands conveyed her deceit.

  “You can take your snack to your room, Bobby, and watch some TV.”

  Bobby stared at his mom, seemingly confused before he shrugged his shoulders and ambled into the hallway. Once he was no longer in earshot, I questioned, “You named him after your brother?”

  When she nodded, my throat worked hard to swallow the lump formed there. “How did you hear about Roberto’s death if you have no connection to your previous life?”

  “My husband was in law enforcement.” She cringes. “Is in law enforcement.”

  My eyes shot down to her left hand, even knowing it was void of a wedding band as it was the first finger my eyes zoomed in on when she enclosed her hand around mine.

  “We're separated.” Her right hand covered the missing ring on her left hand.

  I jerked my head to the hallway Bobby walked down minutes ago. “Is he my son?” My tone was calm, even though I was anything but.

  Ophelia’s eyes glossed over, but she held my gaze. “No. Bobby is only five. He's just tall for his age.”

  An entanglement of emotions hit me at once. Relief. Unease. It all hit me. “I want a DNA test.”

  Ophelia’s eyes darted between mine. Her lips moved, but no words came out of her mouth.

  “You deceived me for years, so you can’t expect me just to take your word that he isn’t mine. That would be ludicrous.” My tone came out harsher than I anticipated.

  My breath hitched when the image that had been haunting my dreams for the past six years emerged in front of my eyes. Ophelia was crying.

  I seized her wrist and pulled her into my chest. Her sobs were quiet, but the dampness on my shirt was all the indication I needed to know she was still upset. My heart pummeled my chest for every silent tear that escaped her eyes.

  I don’t know how long we stayed standing in the kitchen, huddled together, before she mumbled into my chest, “Bobby’s dad was the FBI agent assigned to my case when I moved here.�
�� Her head popped off my chest to peer up at me. “Because Tobias was still undercover, he assigned a rookie agent fresh from the academy to my case. It was a real love-hate relationship from the get-go, but as the months went on, our relationship blossomed into something magical.”

  “Then why aren’t you together now?”

  Her gaze drifted down to my chest. “Because he wanted more than half a heart. He knew part of my heart still belonged to you.”

  She cupped my jaw, her eyes darting between mine, appearing just as surprised as I was that we were standing across from each other, cuddled together. She was so close, her tea-scented breath was fanning my lips.

  “It still belongs to you.”

  Her eyes gleamed before she balanced on her tippy toes to seal her lips over mine. Her tongue stroked my lips before she plunged it into my mouth. My hand slithered up her back, pulling her closer before I weaved my hand through her hair to deepen our kiss. My mouth trapped the soft purrs that rumbled up her throat when I gripped her thighs to guide her legs around my waist.

  With our lips attached, I paced toward the wooden table to lay her on top of it. When my eyes opened, I took a step back, startled when her light brown eyes peered up at me. Her breasts were thrusting up and down, and the golden highlights in her hair glistened in the morning sun streaming through the window. She was undeniably beautiful, but nothing could stop me from taking another step back.

  I took another, and another, and another until I was back onto the footpath where our reunion commenced.

  I tilt closer to Isabelle, so close I can feel her blood pumping through her body. “I thought I wasn’t remembering her right, that my memories had failed me, but it wasn’t that,” I mutter into Isabelle’s ear. “When I was looking at her, all I could see was you. I was comparing her to you.”

  Before Isabelle came into my life, all I could see in the women I liaised with was Ophelia. I constantly compared them to her, judging them on how closely they resembled her, and what she had that they lacked. It was only when my gaze was roaming over Ophelia on the dining room table did I realize her eyes hadn’t changed color, the swell of her breasts and the curve of her hips hadn’t shrunk. She just lacked Isabelle’s seductive curves, dark, straight locks, and big beautiful chocolate eyes. Although Ophelia was as beautiful as I remembered, she wasn’t Isabelle.

  She wasn’t mine.

  I’ve always said my feelings for Isabelle are prodigious and unexplainable. On the flight back to Ravenshoe, I realized why that is. I can’t explain my feelings for Isabelle because I’ve never experienced them before. I was twenty when I began dating Ophelia. Our entire relationship was based on the thrill of the chase and what adventures we could undertake instead of establishing a proper long-term connection. We dated for months and never said those three little words to each other—not until the night of the fight. We could go days without seeing each other, and neither of us were bothered—it just seemed natural. But Isabelle is on my mind all the time. Every minute that she isn’t with me, she invades my thoughts.

  When Ophelia died, the guilt of her death clouded my perception of love even more. Although I loved Ophelia, only now do I realize it was more a fascination based on lust. It was nothing compared to the feelings I have for Isabelle.

  Although my mind is still reeling as it tries to unravel everything that's happened the past forty-eight hours, there's one thing that isn’t scrambled. It’s as clear as the sun shining in the sky.

  I am in love with Isabelle.

  When I take a step away from Isabelle, unpinning her from the wall, her chest expands and deflates with every breath she takes. Her eyes glisten with unshed tears as she stares at me in confusion, unable to comprehend what I'm telling her.

  “You own me, Isabelle. Every inch of me is yours. Can you not see that? You’ve owned me from the day you ran into me at the airport. You ruined me. All I see is you. Every breath I take, every decision I make is for you. I’m yours, and you're mine.” I cup her cheeks then stare into her beautiful chocolate eyes. “I love you.”

  I sweep away her tears with my thumb before sealing my mouth over hers. Her lips remain stiff for only a second before she laces her fingers through my hair and pulls me closer, strengthening our kiss while also binding us tighter together.

  The heat of her bare pussy scorches my hardened cock when I step closer to her, pinning her back against the wall. When her hand slithers between us to stroke my rock-hard shaft through my thin shorts, a hoarse groan rolls up my throat. Every lash of my tongue in her delectable mouth has her stroking my cock faster, more urgent, almost greedy.

  I grip her curvy ass, ensuring my fingers add the sting she likes, before hoisting her up higher on the wall, where I spend the next several hours fucking her senseless, marking her, claiming her, and possessing every inch of her, ensuring she's fully aware that I'm hers, and she is mine.

  Chapter 33

  Isabelle

  “Isabelle.”

  A deep voice trickles through my eardrums before clustering in my core.

  I groan before rolling onto my stomach. “Just a few more hours.”

  My sex tingles when goosebumps follow the pattern Isaac’s fingertip makes over my naked body. He glides it over my shoulder blade, down my back, across my backside, and along my thigh, sparking my every nerve with the meekest touch.

  I lift my head off the pillow and crank it to the side. The most seductive pussy-clenching smirk is etched on his handsome face, loving the effect his meager touch has on my body.

  “A week still not enough for you to get your fill?”

  I roll over to face him, exposing my naked breasts to his eager eyes.

  “I’ll never get enough.”

  He sucks my nipple into his mouth, drawing it in so deep, his name huskily escapes my lips. The beat of my heart increases when he bites my nipple before his tongue soothes the sting, but I’m left disappointed when he pulls back.

  I slant my head to the side, eyeing him curiously when I notice the quickest spark of hesitation firing through his eyes. When he notices my curious glance, his lips curve into a smirk before he moves to the walk-in closet, his steps fast and efficient.

  My brows furrow when he returns with a pair of jeans, a long-sleeve shirt, and my Burberry trench coat. For the past week, he stipulated clothing was optional. Which, of course, means I’ve spent a majority of the last week naked, so I’m somewhat surprised when he lifts me from the bed and commences dressing me.

  Even shocked, my lips still curve into a broad grin. I love how he nurtures and takes care of me.

  “Once you're ready, meet me down in the foyer.” His low tone has stupid butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

  I nod before heading into the bathroom to brush my teeth and hair. In my eagerness to discover what ‘s caused the sudden shift in his personality, I don’t bother applying makeup.

  My brisk steps down the stairwell falter when I spot Hugo standing in the foyer. Tears burn in my eyes when I notice he's wearing his standard work attire that consists of a black suit with a white dress shirt underneath. I haven’t seen him since our kiss over a week ago. I was growing very worried.

  After brushing a few tears off my cheeks, I rush down the stairs and throw myself into his arms. “Hey, Isabelle,” he greets me in his familiar drawl.

  He places me back on my feet just as Isaac enters the foyer from the living room. I throw my arms around his neck as I just did Hugo, except this time, I seal my mouth over his. My heart thuds against my ribs when he deepens our kiss.

  He kisses me so senseless, I forget we have company. If Hugo’s deep bellowing voice didn’t sound through my ears, I’d still be clueless. “I’ll bring the car around.” I don’t need to look at him to know he's smiling. I can hear it in his voice.

  The front door shutting bounces through the foyer before Isaac pulls his delicious lips away from my mouth. As he drifts his lips between mine, they speak the words his mouth is failing to articulate.<
br />
  “Thank you.”

  Isaac fired Hugo the instant Hugo informed him we had kissed, not giving him a chance to explain. I proceeded with caution the past week while bringing up the subject of Hugo. I shared snippets here and there of everything Hugo had done for us the past few months without mentioning his name. Little comments about how he convinced me our relationship was worth fighting for, and that he was an asset to our relationship, not a hindrance. Even though I never mentioned Hugo’s name, Isaac knew whom I was referring to, and if Hugo’s return is anything to go by, he heard the message I was trying to put across.

  “Roger will remain your main detail, though. Hugo will only work with me.”

  Not wanting to start a fight, and grateful he's trying to curb his jealousy issues, I smile and nod. His lips curve into a panty-clenching smirk, pleased with my agreeing gesture.

  After enclosing his hand around mine, he walks us toward the door. My eye catches sight of the handwritten note sitting on the entryway table on the way. Although it’s been read, it sits where I initially placed it on New Year’s Eve as a reminder of everything we have been through.

  You deserve to conquer the world,

  to achieve your every desire and dream.

  Thank you for showing me I deserve that as well.

  I will always love you.

  Isabelle xx

  * * *

  Isaac assists me into the back of his town car but maintains his quiet, reserved composure. I don’t mind. It gives me plenty of time to people watch.

  My attention is diverted twenty minutes later when something taps my jean-covered thigh. Shifting my gaze, I'm met with a white envelope. My lungs take stock of my oxygen levels when the address on the top corner of the envelope registers as familiar. It’s the laboratory that handled both of Isaac’s paternity cases.

  Since Theresa was arrested, she was required to give her DNA as part of the investigation. Regan secured a warrant for a sample of her DNA to be used for the paternity testing on Jeremiah. Ophelia, although reluctant, agreed to take her son, Bobby, to the same clinic.