Page 84 of Burn With Me

“Around you?” I ask with a tight smile. “When am I not?”

I take a step around him and lean down, pausing only slightly when he doesn’t move to stop me as I grab a stack of papers and lift it to my face. “Aurora, what’s wrong?”

What isn’t wrong? My mother is married to a mafia boss. The FBI is after my brother. And I fucked my stepbrother. This whole fucking thing is wrong. Everything about it. So … why can’t I seem to stay the hell away from him?

My eyes scan the papers in front of me. They’re lists—names, numbers, dates, locations. I can’t seem to make heads or tails of what any of it means without some sort of clarification or direction. There’s no context to them. I drop them right where I picked them up and turn back to Isaac.

“Marcus came to see me today,” I say.

Isaac’s frown deepens. “Marcus is back in town?” He glances away, back towards the elevator, before returning to me and scrubbing a hand through his hair. “Is this about the party this weekend?”

“You knew about that?” What am I asking? Of course he knew. Before Isaac can answer, I shake my head. “I suppose that’s probably part of it, but it’s definitely not the entirety.”

Isaac watches me, his eyes following as I stride across the room, stepping around the handfuls of documents spread out. I want to ask him what they’re for, but I can’t get distracted from my reason for being here. I stop when I hit the edge of the room, right in front of the long windows that face out over the city and the sun in the distance, turning the sky a mirage of colors as it starts to sink over the edge of the land.

I turn back towards him. “He was contacted by the FBI.” Isaac’s whole body—his demeanor—changes. The concern in his expression smooths out and hardens. His lips turn down further and his muscles contract, his shoulders swelling larger. I cross my arms and scowl. “Is there something I should know?”

Surprise of all fucking surprises, Isaac shakes his head. “It’s not a good idea, Aurora.”

“Consider me bad then,” I say. “Because—despite how politely I asked—what I meant to say is that it’s time to tell me the fucking truth, Isaac.” I scowl at him. “What the hell is going on?”

Isaac curses beneath his breath and turns away from me as he bares his teeth and blows out a frustrated breath. It irritates me enough that I can’t fucking watch it anymore. I turn away and make my way across the room to the bar. Just like last time, I pull out a glass and uncork the crystal decanter—pouring a hefty amount of alcohol into my cup.

“What are you doing?” Isaac’s footsteps echo loudly as he stomps towards me.

I stop when the alcohol is almost at the rim. “Measuring with my fucking heart,” I say, setting the top on the decanter back in place.

“If you really want to have this conversation, I’d rather you didn’t drink through it,” Isaac says.

“Yeah? Well, I’d rather everyone in my life stop lying to me, or at the very least stop hiding shit, but that hasn’t happened.” I lift the glass to my lips and take a long sip—letting the burn hurt my insides until the alcohol is far enough down that it doesn’t threaten to spill over the top with every movement.

“Aurora.”

I turn and face him. Isaac stops in front of me, the heat of his body so near and so fucking distracting.

“Isaac.” I mimic his tone as I lift the glass again and take a big gulp. He curses again, his gaze lingering on the glass in my hand. I can see it—the contemplation. The thought in his mind. He wants to take it from me—just like last time. I’m waiting to see if he’ll follow through. Surprisingly, he doesn’t.

Instead, his hands reach out and land on my hips. “Aurora, what’s this all about? Why are you so upset? Is it the FBI? What did they say to Marcus? What did they ask?”

“I don’t really know,” I admit. “We didn’t get past the fact that they were solely focused on Damien Icari.” I meet his gaze and set the glass back down on the bar counter behind me.

His expression darkens at my words, but his hands don’t leave my sides. “I’m sorry, Aurora,” he says. “I really didn’t want you to be involved in this mess.”

Well, at least now I know that he knew about the FBI. That’s a consolation at least. He’s not hiding that from me. Other things, probably, but it’s a start. Against my own better judgment, I let my hands touch his chest, feel his warmth, his strength. His heart beats against my palm, sharp and fast.

“I’m tired of being lied to, Isaac,” I say quietly, looking up at him through my lashes. “You told me once that your father was dangerous. I know he’s a criminal, but that’s all you give me. Vagueness and nothing more.” I know why Damien Icari married my mother. To use her. But why does that concern him so much? “I don’t know whyyou’reso cautious about him. Why you suddenly changed.”

Isaac captures my hands and holds them when I move them up. He presses my palms harder against his pecs and I feel the shift of his muscles beneath his shirt. “I never wanted to hurt you.” Isaac’s confession doesn’t ease the tightness in my chest. “I wanted you to leave. To convince your mother that marrying my father was a bad fucking idea.”

“So you tortured me to … what? Save me?”

He nods. “It doesn’t make anything I did right, but—”

“But you thought that would be better than telling me the truth?” I arch a brow up at him.

“I didn’t know you, Aurora.” Isaac pulls me forward. With his fingers clamped on my hands, he forces me to wrap my arms around his middle. “You were just baggage attached to Emilia Summers—baggage I didn’t even know about until just before I met you. You think I’m privy to my father’s schemes?” He pauses and shakes his head. “I’m not. He doesn’t trust me like that. Not like you seem to think.”

“And the FBI?”

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