Page 100 of Enigma: The Complete Collection
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CHAPTER1
ISAAC
“How much longer do they expect me to wait?”
I glare into the police officer’s dark eyes that are gawking at me with a hint of infatuation. He's so young, he looks fresh out of the academy. Even his uniform still has the crinkles from where it was folded after manufacturing.
“They either charge me or let me go.” I turn my gaze to the camera hanging in the corner of the room. “My patience is stretched thin.”
Although I’ve been remanded at the Ravenshoe Police Department for the past two hours, I’ve yet to be informed of the fabricated charges they're attempting to pin on me. Other than being handed a two-page report on my rights while in custody, I haven’t had any contact with the agents who arrested me—including Isabelle.
After throwing down the documents the rookie officer handed me onto the desk I’m sitting behind, I run my hand over my head. It freezes halfway when the agent who read me my rights enters the room. When he tilts his head to the side, his smirk arrogant, I ball my hands, fighting not to wipe the pretentious look off his face with my fists. This isn’t a game. It’s never been a game to me.
His arrogance falters when my gray eyes land on his. He clears his throat with an annoying cough that echoes in the silence teeming between us, no doubt to ensure fear isn’t heard in his voice. He doesn’t need to speak for me to know he's scared. His whole stance gives it away. His slumped shoulders, twitching thighs, and the skittish gleam in his eyes are all I need to see to know he's scared. Rightfully so, he should be.
“I can remand you for two days without charge if I so wish.” I’m impressed when his words only come out with the smallest quiver. “So, I suggest you get comfortable, Mr. Holt.” This time, his voice gains an edge of arrogance.
When I stand, his eyes follow me. I’m not big. I’m average height for a guy, just over six feet tall, and I’m not bulked with muscles like my fighters, but it isn’t my size that has men quaking in their boots. It’s my reputation. A reputation that took me years to build, and one I plan to keep no matter how ruthless it makes me seem. This isn’t just my business, it is my life—it's what I live for. I fought my way to where I am, and I’ll fight to keep it. Nothing has diverted my attention from my goals and aspirations the past five years. Nothing at all, until I saw her.
This will sound conceited, but I’ve grown accustomed to the vicious ploys women use to get my attention. The spilled drinks, the damsel in distress. Hell, I’ve even been offered money from wealthy business associates just for the chance to occupy my bed. However, Isabelle was by far the most elaborate ruse I’ve ever come across. I'll give it to her, she performed well. She played me like a fucking fiddle.
The instant my eyes landed on her sprawled at my feet, I knew she’d be my eternal weakness. For years, I’ve never looked at women without comparing their qualities to Ophelia’s. That didn’t happen when I appraised Isabelle’s striking features. I only saw her—her big, beautiful chocolate eyes, her pouty cupid’s bow lip, and the most seductive body I’d ever seen.
If she hadn’t been on her period, I would have claimed her in that washroom thirty thousand feet in the air. Alas, it seemed more than womanly issues were between us. I’m usually more vigilant with the people I permit into my life. Exercising control has ensured my empire’s success the past seven years, but one look into Isabelle’s eyes had me forgoing all lucid thoughts. She had me acting as if I were a college boy enjoying the thrill of the chase.
I had never been that way before—not even with Ophelia. It truly shocked me, so much so, for the six weeks following Isabelle’s sleepover at my apartment, I kept my focus solely on my empire. My ploy was working. Isabelle only slipped into my thoughts three to four times a day instead of the standard eight. I had everything under control—until she kissed me.
Our kiss was unlike anything I had ever experienced. It catapulted my obsession with her to a never-before-reached level. From then on, every move I made was strategically planned to get her into my bed. The cupcakes order, her apartment, even Cormack’s long weekend away—that was all me, an intricate ruse to make Isabelle mine. My bed. My house. My rules.Mine.
When my ruse worked, I thought I had won the ultimate prize. I had Isabelle. She was mine—then it all came tumbling down. Only now, after being arrested by her, do I realize my assumptions were terribly inaccurate. I don’t know Isabelle at all. She's practically a stranger.
Or she’ll soon become one.
CHAPTER2
ISABELLE
“Jeez, do you think there's enough oxygen in the room to sustain both of those personalities?”
I stop pacing in the observation chamber attached to the interrogation room to stray my frightened eyes to Brandon. His brows are drawn together so tightly, a ‘V’ is in the middle of his forehead. When he notices my confused gaze, he nudges his head to a once-frosted window. It’s no longer frosted. It’s clear enough to unearth the heart-stuttering image of Isaac and Alex undertaking a sweat-producing stare-down. They’re being kept apart by the stainless-steel table Isaac has been sitting behind the past two hours.
Isaac’s handsome face is scoured with anger, but his impressive stature still bounces off him in invisible waves. Alex’s stance is just as rigid as Isaac’s. His blue eyes are narrowed, and his twitching top lip is noticeable from a distance.
When Brandon fiddles with some knobs on the sidewall, Isaac's profound voice rumbles into the observation room, sparking an excited shiver to zap down my spine. “You have ten minutes to issue your findings before I walk out of this room and head straight to my lawyer to commence my own proceedings.”
“You won’t be walking out that door in years, let alone minutes.”
Queasiness hits my stomach, my body incapable of ignoring the viciousness in Alex’s tone. I’m the only one bothered by his comment. Isaac smirks, unaffected by the underlying threat in his tone.
After retaking his seat, Isaac taps the face of the platinum Rolex circling his wrist. “Tick tock.”
Alex’s nostrils flare as the spasm in his lip moves to his jaw. “I strongly suggest you take my advice and call a lawyer, Mr. Holt.”
Isaac scrubs his jaw, highlighting its magnificent cut. “I was once told only people with something to hide need a lawyer.”
