Page 7 of Unraveling an Enigma
Tears spring into my eyes when I walk into Isaac’s private oasis. Torn cushions, ripped paintings, upended furniture, and broken ornaments cover nearly every surface in the entranceway and living room.
“What happened?” My voice cracks with emotion.
“The two hours they had Isaac in the interrogation room, they did a very in-depth search of his property,” Hugo replies, his tone harsh. “No room was left untouched.”
Walking into the living room, I notice all the photographs that adorned Isaac’s mantel are now scattered on the floor along with shattered glass. The frames that haven’t been broken are cracked from being handled without any care. The insides of the sofa cushions have been pulled out, and feathers and white fluff are strewn over the beautiful woolen rug on which Isaac made love to me.
My incredulous eyes shoot up to Hugo when I notice Isaac’s expensive leather sofas are now worthless from large knife gashes down the middle of them.
“You never know what someone might be hiding inside a couch,” he mutters as his jaw muscle spasms.
Pacing out of the living room, I make my way into the hallway Isaac has carried me down in his arms many times the past month. With every step I take, my pulse palpitates more. My palms sweat as the urge to be sick doubles. All the beautiful paintings once gracing the walls have been removed. Some are untouched, where others are so badly damaged, they're beyond repair.
Rounding the corner, I halt, my heart squeezing in my chest. Isaac is standing in his office. He is still wearing the same suit he was arrested in, but he has removed his jacket, vest, and tie. His crisp blue business shirt is rolled up to his elbows. He carries a crystal decanter full to the brim with whiskey in his manly hand. He faces the window overlooking the impressive manicured gardens below. Even though his stature still commands attention, his shoulders slump forward, and his head hangs low, exposing his defeat.
Clenching my fists at my side, I walk into the office, stepping over books and papers that are scattered on the floor. My breath snags when Isaac shifts on his feet to face me. His anxious expression morphs to fury, his expression blackened with anger. Before I have time to comprehend what is happening, he storms toward me. I stand still, frozen in place, rendered motionless from the dark cloud swamping his eyes.
Sensing Isaac’s unnerving composure, Hugo places himself between us. “Isaac, give her a chance to explain,” he pleads.
Ignoring Hugo’s advice, Isaac shoves him aside, sending him flying halfway across the office in his rage. The contents of my stomach lurch into my throat when Hugo lands on his backside with an almighty thump. I scamper backward, rattled from Isaac’s unflinching gaze, but he presses forward until I’m pinned between his imposing body and the bookshelves lining his office. Even though my body is shuddering with anxiety, a rush of excitement still courses through my veins. My inner vixen doesn’t care how angry Isaac is; all she cares about is his closeness.
Hugo leaps back onto his feet. I hear his back molars grinding as he charges toward Isaac. I signal for him to stand down. I created this mess, so I need to be the one who fixes it. Hugo stops his aggressive charge but remains watching us closely with his fists clenched in front of his body. Isaac won’t hurt me, but I won’t risk Hugo’s safety by putting him in between us.
Isaac’s breathing is so heavy, hot air blasts my overheated face. His nostrils flare with every inhalation he takes, and his ticking jaw makes the side of his face twitch. He has obviously consumed a substantial amount of alcohol since he left the police department because not only is his breath riddled with whiskey, the smell of alcohol is seeping from his pores, suffocating his alluring scent.
I swallow to soothe my scorching dry throat. “I never told them anything.”
“You’re a liar,” he snarls in disgust, his unyielding eyes glaring into mine.
Unable to speak through the fear of crying, I shake my head. Isaac’s stern face reddens in anger. A bead of sweat dribbles down my back from the stifling heat radiating off him.
“I have never shared anything about you. I was defending you,” I eventually explain once I regain the ability to talk.
Isaac chuckles, a scary, menacing laugh I’ve never heard seep from his lips before. “You were defending me,” he sneers, his voice a furious snarl. “This is defending me.”
His gaze flicks around at the scrambled mess of his office. Although he moves his head, his body doesn’t move an inch toward unpinning me.
My eyes follow Isaac’s gaze around his office. There is not one piece of furniture or book in the area surrounding us that has been left untouched.
“This was not me,” I say.
I was at the police department the entire time Isaac was under arrest. I never once left his side. I didn’t even know they had been granted a search warrant.
“Stop lying to me, Isabelle,” he roars, startling me enough, I jump.
His darkened gaze darts between my eyes. “Don’t you dare fucking cry, Isabelle. You have no right to cry,” he snarls, his tone harsh and abrupt.
I bite the inside of my cheek, battling to stop my tears from falling. If I’ve noticed anything the past few months, it’s that Isaac hates when I cry. He doesn’t need me to add any more hurt to his bursting-at-the-seams pain reflecting in his beautiful eyes. Once I regain my composure, my eyes lift and lock with his.
“No one knows about this place, no one except you and Hugo.” hHs furious eyes flick to Hugo, who is watching our exchange with caution. His eyes are wide, and his fists are clenched in front of his body.
“My house isn’t even registered in my name because I wanted to ensure something like this would never happen. So, it had to be either you or Hugo who told the authorities this place existed. Hugo has been with me for years. You, on the other hand, have only been in the picture the past six months.”
“It wasn’t me.” My voice quivers when Isaac’s eyes glare into mine. “Maybe the surveillance team followed you here one day, or. . .” I stumble out, before stopping mid-sentence since I can’t think of a more logical explanation as to how the authorities found out about Isaac’s private residence.
Isaac smirks a wickedly evil smile. It’s the first grin I’ve seen on his face that doesn’t make my knees clang together. When he takes a step backward, I gulp in air, grateful I’ve gained the ability to fill my lungs again. His compelling stature is overpowering in general, but in his vicious anger and hurt, it is even more stifling.
I follow his angry gaze to Hugo. Hugo’s concerned eyes roam over my face before shifting to Isaac. His gaze turns from concerned to angry the instant his eyes lock on Isaac.
