Page 28 of Unraveling an Enigma
“Ever since I started working for Isaac.” He gestures for me to enter the elevator first since it has arrived at the lobby. “Isaac doesn’t just own your apartment, Izzy, he owns the whole building.”
Oh.
I remain quiet as the elevator ascends to my floor. Silently, I contemplate several key elements that have been exposed the past twenty-four hours.
I lift my curious eyes to Hugo. “Can I ask you something?”
He nods, approving my request.
“How much rent do you pay for your apartment?”
His lips curl into a broad grin as his blue eyes turn down to mine. “The same amount as you, Izzy,” he responds, easing my uncertainty. I knew Theresa was full of crap.
“Nothing.”
What?
He eyes me peculiarly, winking at the astonished look on my face.
“I’ll have you know, I pay rent for my apartment every month. It may not be quite the same amount as other tenants, but it is debited out of my account on the first of every month, thank you very much.” My voice has an edge of annoyance to it.
A mask of amusement slips over Hugo’s face. The more I glare at him, the more his sassy grin stretches across his face. Angrily, I storm out of the elevator when it arrives on my floor. The pain from my bruised nose is now the last thing on my mind. Hugo follows closely behind me, but no words seep from his mouth as I rush into my bedroom and yank my iPhone from its charger pod.
“I’ll prove it,” I say while logging into my banking app.
Ignoring my surprise at discovering I have more money in my bank account than I’d been expecting, I complete a search for the past three months, adding the agreed rent amount into the search criteria.
My heart stops beating and the clutch on my phone increases when my search comes up empty. My confused eyes flick up to Hugo.
“You may have filled out a form to have your rent debited out of your account every month, but that doesn’t mean Isaac’s real estate agent filed your paperwork,” Hugo remarks, his tone cocky.
Isabelle
Clutching a piece of paper tightly in my fist, my fretful eyes dart up and down the street. Even in my furious mood, I can’t risk the surveillance team, or even worse, Theresa seeing me entering Isaac’s nightclub. Not only would my suspension from the Bureau most likely be extended, but I'd also be risking arrest.
Once I am confident no one is watching, I sneakily slip into the back entrance of Isaac’s nightclub. It is only a little after ten, so there are no patrons inside the club yet. I’ve noticed during surveillance, even during the daytime, Isaac’s nightclubs have several dozen patrons milling around.
My curious eyes bounce around the surroundings. The Dungeon is a very elegant looking club that screams sex and seduction. Isaac’s allure and impressive stature are embedded into his clubs. No wonder why his patrons don’t bat an eyelid at being charged double the price for their drinks. I'd even pay the exorbitant fees just to dance in a nightclub as elaborate as this one.
My eyes lock in on a mirrored window in the far corner of the room. After exhaling a large huff to settle my jittering nerves, I pace toward the door at the side of the mirror. My quick strides only halt when a petite lady with a pixie cut hairstyle stands in front of me.
She has her hands on her tiny waist, and her narrowed gaze glares into my eyes. “Isaac isn’t interested in seeing you,” she snarls, her hazel eyes slitting more. “Ever again.”
“Well, Isaac will have to tell me that himself,” I reply, striving not to let irritation be heard in my tone.
I can perceive from the petite brunette’s eyes that her interests in Isaac severely sway toward a more personal level than business, but I’m not in the mood to deal with her right now. I have much higher priorities to handle.
Every attempt I make to skirt past the fairy-looking lady comes up fruitless as she moves to block my path. “Please move,” I request as politely as I can in my annoyed composure.
“You may have gotten your hooks into Isaac outside of these walls, but it won’t happen in my club.”
“Your club?” I interrupt. Strengthening my stance, I cross my arms in front of my chest. “I may be mistaken, but I’m fairly sure your name isn’t written above the door.”
I stray my eyes to the proprietor’s name displayed at the entrance of the nightclub. “Oh, nope, that’s right, it still shows only Isaac Holt’s name above the door.”
The pixie fairy’s stern composure doesn’t flinch at my bitchy remark. She stands her ground, not once attempting to lessen the angry scowl marking her pretty face. Okay, I’ll give it to her, her angry stance is impressive.
“I’ve been here for years before you arrived, and I’ll be here years after you leave,” she seethes, steam billowing out of her ears.
