Page 127 of Enigma: The Complete Collection
“Where are you going?”
After blowing a wayward hair out of my face, I shrug. I haven’t worked that part out yet. Regina said I could move into the room I used when I moved to Ravenshoe, and Harlow offered me the couch in her tiny flat, but I haven’t decided what I want to do just yet. With everything going on, I’m feeling a little homesick, so half of me wants to scurry back to my hometown with my tail firmly planted between my legs, whereas the other half is adamant we stay and defend both Isaac and my name.
“Do you miss your hometown, Hugo?”
From the limited information I expelled from his sister's police report, Hugo and his siblings were raised in Rochdale. Marjorie was born and buried there.
Hugo takes a moment to contemplate my question before shaking his head. “Home isn’t where you’re born, Izzy. It's where your family lives.” His words are extremely soft for a guy of his size. “Family also doesn’t mean they’re related to you by blood.”
My cheeks chuck a stink about the fast incline of my lips. Hugo is verybuilt. His biceps are wider than my head, and his thighs are the width of my waist, but his buzz-cut hair and vast tattoo collection could have you mistaking him as a brainless brute. Only once you unearth the real Hugo do you realize his heart is the biggest muscle in his body.
I lose the chance to reply to his statement when a heavy knock sounds at the door. When I pull it open, I’m greeted by the brightly smiling face of Brandon. He’s also dressed casually, but the price tags of his garments are more pricy than Hugo’s. His Nieman Marcus Benn stretch-cotton pants and black cashmere and wool blend trench coat cost more than I earn in a month.
A much-needed smile stretches across my face when Brandon pulls out a bouquet from behind his back. One dozen long-stemmed yellow roses with whispers of baby's breath weaved throughout are arranged in a beautiful crystal vase.
“Brandon, you shouldn’t have.”
He smiles his trademark lopsided grin. The slight fault in his smile makes him even more appealing. Not many people are faultless, but Brandon’s handsome boy-next-door looks and an even more stellar personality are cutting it closer. The slight wonkiness of his near-perfect smile makes him more realistic—an everyday person instead of an unattainable man. I’ve only met one unattainable man before. That man is the incredibly alluring Mr. Isaac Holt.
“I thought they’d brighten your day.”
Smiling, I accept the vase before placing a kiss on his cheek. I grin like a Cheshire cat when he blushes from my friendly gesture. With a wave of my hand, I motion for him to join me inside. While peering my eyes around my apartment, endeavoring to find a suitable location to place my flowers, I stumble upon the infuriating glare of Hugo. He’s shooting daggers at Brandon, his stance nowhere near as casual as his outfit. If he’s striving to intimidate Brandon, he's failing miserably. Brandon hasn’t even noticed his brooding presence lurking at the side of my living room. His eyes are fixated on me.
I give Hugo my ‘behave’ face before placing the vase on the entryway table, rotating it until I'm happy with its position. The crystal vase catches the morning sun streaming through the window, sending rainbow hues dancing across my living room.
When I twirl back around, I offer to take Brandon’s jacket to hang it in the entry closet. A scratchy sensation hits my throat when Brandon's removal of his coat reveals a white, long-sleeve Armani polo shirt. It hugs his frame so snugly, it showcases him in a light I’ve not previously seen. He isn’t as built as the other male agents in our unit, but I had no clue he was hidingthatbody under the business attire he regularly dons.
My chest expands when Brandon tilts in intimately close to my side. He isn’t standing close enough to make me feel uncomfortable, but to a stranger, it could look a little too chummy, which means it elicits the warning growl bellowing out of Hugo.
“Isn’t he Isaac’s bodyguard?” Even with Brandon’s close proximity, my ears struggle to hear him.
My shoulder touches my ear when I shrug. “He isn’t Isaac’s bodyguard. He’s more an…associateof his.”
Smiling to ease the confused expression crossing his face, I head to Hugo to offer an introduction. Considering the circumstances, the giddy feeling in my gut is extremely ill-timed. I’m not liking the tension radiating out of Hugo. I’m just loving that even being unjustly fired by Isaac hasn’t stop Hugo from defending him.
“Hugo, this is myfriend, Brandon.” I overemphasis the word ‘friend,’ hoping Hugo will get the hint that Brandon will never be anything more than that. “Brandon, this is my…friend, Hugo.”
Unappreciative of my stumble, Hugo gawks at me. I mouth an apology. I was genuinely unsure about how I ought to introduce him. He’s always been friendly, but most of our interactions occurred while he was an employee of Isaac’s, so I wasn’t sure if our interactions were because he liked me, or if he were doing the job he was paid to do.
“It’s nice to meet you.”
When Brandon extends his hand in greeting, Hugo accepts it, albeit hesitantly. “Pleasure.”
After they shake hands, the whole gathering plunges into an awkward silence. As they gawk at each other, my eyes bounce between them, pondering as to why I’ve gone from having no visitors to two within minutes of each other.
When did I become Ms. Popular?
I realize I mumbled my last comment out loud when Brandon and Hugo’s eyes snap to mine in sync. Over the silence, much less their dubious glares, I spread my hands across my cocked hip. “All right, spill, what are you two up to?”
Brandon is confused by my bold statement, but Hugo smiles so vividly, only the sturdiest pair of sunglasses could reflect the glare of his vibrant grin. “I’ve got nothing better to do with my time anymore, so I may as well hang out with you.”
Regret stabs my chest. Although Hugo’s comment is painful to hear, it holds merit so that only leaves one mystery remaining. Turning my gaze, I peer at Brandon with my brow cocked and my lips twisted.
He shifts from foot to foot as the natural hue adorning his cheeks reddens. “I need to talk to you.” His gaze strays to Hugo, who is watching our exchange eagerly, not even pretending he isn’t eavesdropping. “In private.”
When Hugo gives him a look as if to say,fuck you, I’m not going anywhere, I clasp Brandon’s perspiration-soaked hand in mine before guiding him into the hallway of my building. Hugo doesn't attempt to follow us. It's for the best. I might have shot him if he did.
After swallowing bleakly, Brandon’s gaze floats up from his shoes. “I need a favor.”
