Page 91 of The Widower
Out of pure defiance, I hugged him even tighter. I had to take advantage of the rare moments when he was “accessible” somehow—and this was definitely one of them.
“I don’t care. Someone told me I’m stubborn.”
“Are you seriously not letting go?”
“What do you have against hugs? Geez.” I gave him a playful look, and he quickly averted his eyes, clearly uncomfortable with that kind of affection.
“I don’t hug. And I don’t get hugged.”He pulled away.
“That’s a shame. We could hug every day if you wanted.”I smiled. I loved getting under the skin of the famous Colin Adams.
“Good night, Isabelle. What you need is to get some sleep—and stop annoying me.”
I don’t know why, but deep down, I could feel it—he was changing. And this time, I was sure it was for the better.
COLIN ADAMS
I held myself back from taking Isabelle the way I’d been fantasizing about for days.
I couldn’t do that tonight—not after everything she’d been through.
For a few brief moments, she managed to quiet the storm I carried inside my chest, something no one had ever done before. I didn’t understand why. Was it because she kept trying to figure me out, or because, somehow, I let her? I didn’t know—and honestly, I didn’t want to think about it.
She’d said we’d talk calmly tomorrow, that she had an idea of what might’ve happened to her house. But despite her words, I went to bed uneasy, haunted by a worry I couldn’t yet name.
Today, once things had calmed down, Isabelle told me why she thought her house had been vandalized. I don’t even need to say how pissed I was, but I did my best not to show it. Lately, I can’t make sense of the emotions taking over me—especially when it comes to Isabelle and Hanna—since I’ve never been the overprotective type.
Apparently, Hanna’s father is directly responsible for all this, and now I’m worried about her. It was a clear warning—they didn’t believe her when she said she didn’t know where that guy Rudolph was.
“You’re staying locked in for a while,” I said, already bracing myself for her complaints.
“Locked in?!” She raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah. You’re spending a few days here at the mansion without going anywhere.”
“Not a chance.” She let out a mocking laugh.
“Oh, yes, you are,” I shot back. “After everything you told me, do you really think the guys who trashed your house are just gonna leave you alone now?”
“I can’t go around accusing people. Maybe… it wasn’t them.”
I ran a hand through my hair. Isabelle still managed to get under my skin—always looking for the good in everything—but the world doesn’t work like that. Bad people are everywhere.
“I’m not even gonna answer that. From what you said, they gave you fifteen days to respond, and on the morning of the sixteenth day, your house was destroyed. You’d have to be pretty naïve to think it wasn’t them.”
Isabelle stopped and took a deep breath. She knew I was right, even if she hated admitting it. There was no way around the facts this time.
“You’re right. Pretending it didn’t happen would be worse.”
“Think about Hanna, your mom, and yourself. This place isn’t as bad as it looks.” I tried to sound funny—not exactly my specialty—but if I wanted to convince her to stay here twenty-four hours a day, I’d have to reinvent myself. Isabelle wasn’t easy.
“Working for you twenty-four hours a day, every single day, sounds awful.”
“Knowing you’re in my mansion twenty-four hours a day, every single day, sounds awful,” I countered, and she burst out laughing.
Women are strange in general—or maybe I’m just not used to this.
“You’ve been funny lately. I can’t decide if I should be happy or worried about your mood swings.”
