Page 126 of Enigma: The Complete Collection
He hands me the iPad device he earlier removed. It’s open on an image of Isabelle sitting in a chair behind a white melamine table. The blond gentleman she kissed in her hallway nearly two months ago is seated across from her.
“Are you trying to rub salt into my wounds, or did you just set out to piss me off today?”
“Come on, Isaac. You know as well as anyone that not everything is black and white,” Hunter waves his hand to the iPad. “Press play and watch the shadows turn to gray.”
After shooting him a wry look, warning him I’ve reached my quota of smart-ass remarks, I press play on the iPad. My brows shoot up my face when “Are you in a relationship with Isaac Holt?” comes squawking through the speakers. My heart stops beating as I wait for Isabelle’s response. Her pupils are wide, and her face is flushed. She looks like a deer caught in the headlights.
“I plead the fifth.”
A smirk curves my lips. I’d break out a full smile if I didn’t recognize the voice of the person interrogating Isabelle. Her nasally pitch is easily distinguishable. It belongs to Theresa Veneto.
My jaw muscle tenses when Theresa taunts Isabelle about being a paid mistress. It also makes sense as to why Isabelle reacted so fiercely earlier. I treated her just as poorly as the person attempting to railroad her.
When the video ends, exposing that Isabelle denied all interactions with me, my eyes shift to Hunter. “You couldn’t have brought this to me an hour earlier?”Then I wouldn’t have insulted Isabelle so bluntly.
“With everything going on with Nick and his fucked-up stalker, and those other matters you have me looking into, my resources are stretched thin. By thin, I mean I'm exhausted. Something had to give. Unfortunately, it was that.” He jerks his head to his iPad.
My first response is to retort that I don’t pay him to rest, but his tired eyes shelf my retaliation. He looks as exhausted as I feel. “Could Theresa’s investigation have any legalities for Isabelle?”
Hunter runs his hand along his jaw as he slumps deeper into the chair. “I’m not a lawyer, but unless they can prove she was financially rewarded for supplying you with information, I don’t see their investigation being anything more than hearsay.” His gaze shoots up to mine. “Did you ever discuss anything with her that could warrant their investigation?”
I shake my head. “We didn’t discuss business matters.” We barely discussed anything as we were too busy acting on our desires for one another.
“Then she should be okay. If you’re not sure, maybe have Regan look into it for you.”
I scratch my brow. “Regan is busy handling another matter for me.”
Hunter nods. “Speaking of situations, Peters spotted Nick’s stalker purchasing a bus ticket to New York earlier this morning. Did you want me to send someone with her? Or…” He stops talking mid-sentence, awaiting further instructions.
“Cormack has a security detail watching Nick from afar in Los Angeles. When he returns home, send one of your guys to keep an eye on him.”
“All right.” Hunter rises from the chair, snagging his bag from the ground on the way. “Let us know when he's back in town, and I’ll send Peters over there.” He strides toward the door before stopping abruptly and spinning back around. “You need to be careful with how you tread with this Theresa issue, Isaac. She could squash Isabelle if she wants to. I know you're pissed Isabelle wasn’t forthright with you about what she did for a living, but does a small amount of deceit warrant her spending years in jail?”
Not giving me a chance to reply, he briskly exits my office.
CHAPTER14
ISABELLE
My eyes stray to the door of my apartment when a brisk tap booms through it. After gathering up the documents scattered around me, I hide them in the coffee table drawer. I’m not usually so suspicious, but I’m supposed to buzz in visitors before they gain access to my floor, so my distrust is higher today.
I realize the errors of my ways when I swing open my door. Hugo’s big, brooding frame hogs nearly every inch of the doorway. He's once again dressed down in a pair of ripped Henley jeans and a dark blue, long-sleeve shirt. He wouldn’t need to be granted access since he lives in my building.
“Hey, Isabelle,” he greets me with his familiar drawl and a broad grin.
I open my door wide before gesturing for him to come inside. “Morning, Hugo.”
He takes three steps into my apartment before swiveling around to face me. His brows are drawn together, his lips pursed. “Where are you going?”
Before I can advise why I have a heap of moving boxes scattered around my living room, the intercom rings. Raising my index finger into the air, I request a minute before pacing to my intercom.
“Hello, Ms. Brahn, we have a Brandon James here to see you,” advises a male voice over the intercom receiver.
“Thank you. Please send him up.”
I place the intercom phone back onto its receiver before spinning back around to face Hugo. The suspicion I felt earlier flourishes when I notice he’s rummaging through a box of knick-knacks I’m in the processing of packing. When he sees my watchful eye, he paces to the double door leading to my small but adequate balcony. “So, you're really moving out?”
I nod. With the end of the month approaching more quickly than I anticipated, I’ve commenced packing in preparation for my big move.
