Page 72 of Enigma: The Final Chapter
He sets down the magazine to scrub the five o’clock shadow on his chin. “Five or six,” he replies, his voice uneasy.
“So the dates could add up. He could be Isaac’s son.”
Since my comments are more statements than questions, Hugo doesn’t respond. He just wearily smiles before moving into the spare seat next to me. Fresh tears prick in my eyes when he drapes his arm around my shoulders, offering me silent comfort, but even devastated, I don’t shed a tear. I’m out of my quota of tears for the day.
“You can’t fight fate, Izzy.” The deepness of his voice vibrates right through me. “But that doesn’t mean you should give up. Isaac gave you an engagement ring as a promise. He’s never spoken those words to another woman before, so that alone shows your importance to him. You need to have faith that things will work out the way they're meant to.”
I inhale a lung-filling gulp of air before nodding. After everything Isaac and I have endured the past few months, I believe our relationship is strong enough to pass the most strenuous tests. But this time is different. I’m not going against a woman who wants to compete for Isaac’s heart. I'm battling a woman who already owns a portion of it. It doesn’t take a genius to know that this will be one of my hardest fought battles, but that doesn’t mean I won’t give it my best shot.
Chapter 29
Isaac
“The transfer of assets has been approved as you requested.”
I press my cell phone closer to my ear, ensuring I can hear Parker over the roaring chant of the crowd. “Is it the original asset I secured?”
“Yes. I informed them that you wouldn’t be willing to accept anything less than what you purchased.”
“Good. I’ll have the transport information and logistics forwarded to you by tomorrow afternoon. This sale needs to remain confidential. I can’t run the risk of anyone finding out about my business dealings with Vladimir.”Especially Isabelle.
“I understand, and the transport team has been debriefed on the situation.”
“Good, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
I disconnect our call, then place my cell into the gym bag at my side. Cormack’s amused but guarded gaze follows me when I stand from the bench seat I’m sitting on. He remains quiet as I do a set of reps to ensure my muscles are firm and warm, meaning they’ll be less likely to sustain damage from any blows that may be inflicted on them.
Six years has passed since I last undertook this warm-up routine, but it feels like no time at all. The only difference this time around is Ophelia isn’t fretfully pacing.
“Are you sure you want to do this? You aren’t as young as you were back then.” Cormack hands me a white towel to run over my sweat-drenched head since I’ve finalized my thirty-minute routine. “You’re still as cocky, but that doesn’t mean you’re as fast as you once were.”
My chuckle echoes in the quietness of the locker room. “Are you worried about me getting hurt? Or you losing your twenty percent cut since all the proceeds go to charity?”
Cormack’s brows furrow. “I guess I better cut back on the cigars and whiskeys at your restaurant next week to save me some coin for a rainy day.”
I laugh even louder. He could never work a day in his life if he wanted to live off his family inheritance. But just like me, everything he has in his life, he’s achieved himself.
My chuckles die down when I catch the live broadcast of the pre-fight banter on a color television hanging in the corner of the room. Ever since Henry Gottle, Jr. announced a charity match between the current heavy-weight contender for our region and me, I’ve been inundated with requests for interviews.
Most people are unaware of how I gained the capital to start my empire. The main rumor is that it was funded by drug trafficking, but drugs have never, and will never, run through my empire. Due to the lack of knowledge, fight commentators believe I'm going into this charity match blindfolded. I’ve seen fake eulogies of my death, cartoon artists have sketched me with my head removed and dangling from The Constrictor’s hand, and the fight commentators are remarking that tonight’s match will be a prime example as to why a businessman should stick to business proposals and not boxing rings. Their taunts have made me determined not to walk out of that ring until their ideas about my reputation have significantly altered.
In all honesty, I only truly considered Cormack’s suggestion after my encounter with Isabelle. And while I’m being totally forthright, I’ll admit hearing Isabelle say I stole her dreams cut through me like a hot knife through butter.
I want to give Isabelle the world. Everything I have, I want to share with her, so it killed me to hear that she abandoned her dreams to be with me. If I were a better man, I'd let her go so she could live her life the way she envisioned, but I can’t. Although her statement cut me raw, everything she said was true, but I'm a selfish man, and I refuse to give her up. I’m struggling being away from her the past two days as it is, let alone for a lifetime.
It’s taken all my restraint the past two days not to charter a jet to Tiburon and bring her home kicking and screaming against her will. But I gave Isabelle a week to work through whatever neuroses she's having about our relationship. If she doesn’t return in a week, I'll go to Tiburon and bring her home myself. Isabelle is mine, and I have no intention of ever giving her up. We’ve already walked through the gates of hell, and our relationship came out the other end stronger, so I'm confident this latest battle will only make our relationship even stronger.
My attention is diverted from the two fight commentators on the screen when I become aware of Isabelle. My pulse increases as my eyes lift to the entrance of the locker room. I'm not surprised when I find the doorway empty. It’s been my lingering wish the past thirty-six hours that Isabelle would miraculously appear, leaning in the doorway of my home office like she has every morning since we became engaged, to have her sleep-weary eyes absorb my body before she kisses me good morning like she's starved of my taste. I’ve gone two mornings without experiencing her endorphin-inducing kisses and forty-eight hours since I’ve had her beneath me. Although it has only been two days, it feels like a lifetime.
Isabelle is the main reason I agreed to participate in this charity match. I need to bang my chest, to show I’m still a man who should be feared. Because although Isabelle has defrosted my cold insides, making me appear less ruthless than I once was doesn’t mean the reputation I fought hard to achieve should be disregarded. If anything, it should create more caution. As now, I’m not just protecting my empire, I’m defending something much more valuable. Something I'd never allow anyone to harm. Something I'd kill for just to be safe. There are no boundaries to how far I'd go to keep Isabelle protected. That, in itself, should be greatly feared.
I’ve just finished securing a pair of black gloves to my hands when a fight promoter enters the locker room to advise it’s time for the match to begin. I shoot Cormack a cocky wink before I follow a bursting-at-the-seams Henry Gottle, Jr. down the corridor. This charity match has created such a buzz in the industry, they're looking at expanding it to other regions. Ticket sales alone increased thirty percent from the regularly-scheduled events. It’s the hype Henry has been actively seeking since he became a promoter three years ago.
Unlike his father, all Henry’s dealings are strictly above board, even when you're evoking a favor. Just like Isabelle, Henry doesn’t believe your hands need to be stained to make an impact in the world. Although I'm sure his logic was severely tested when handling his divorce from Delilah Winterbottom. That woman would easily provoke any man to stretch his limitations on what was classed as morally ethical.
The roaring chant of the crowd intensifies with every step I take toward the ring. My blood turns potent, spurred on by the adrenaline coursing through my veins. I’ve always quoted that my time in the underground fight circle was purely to gain enough capital to establish my empire, but in all honesty, I fought because I relished it. The rush of adrenaline, the challenge, and the thrill of a win kept me coming back week after week. If it was all about the capital, I could have stopped fighting within six months. I didn’t. I continued fighting for nearly two years as I savored it. I was in my element.
I'minmy element.
