Page 19 of Enigma: The Complete Collection
Chomping on my bottom lip, I shrug.I stopped counting over an hour ago.
“How many drinks have you had?” he questions again, his voice sterner this time.
“A few,” I huff. “Who are you, my dad?”
“Are you drunk?”
My eyes shoot back to his as my lips curve into a playful grin. “Maybe a little.”
A husky groan tears from his throat when I hold my thumb and index finger an inch apart, indicating how drunk I think I am. I’ll be honest, an angry Isaac is as sexy as fuck.
He ignores my playful taunt. “How are you getting home?”
“I wasn’t planning on going home alone.” My intoxication is making me more daring than normal. “But you just ruined my chances of finding a suitable companion for the night.”
I’m lying. I have a minimum three-date rule to get into my panties. Well, I usually do. My strict rules are just null and void when it comes to Isaac Holt.
“I don’t play games, Isabelle, so if you’re attempting to make me jealous, you’re wasting your time.”
Ouch!That was a harsh sting to my ego.
I huff and skirt past him, eager to return to my friends so I can continue enjoying my weekend off. I chose this nightclub because I knew Isaac didn’t own it, but here I am, having my confidence slapped by the very man I was trying to avoid.
As I dart toward the door, a rush of dizziness causes me to lose my footing in my pretentiously high stiletto heels. Isaac grabs my arms and steadies me before I stumble to the floor in my drunken state.
Shamelessly, I lean into his firm body to take in a deep whiff of his manly scent.
“You smell so good,” I slur. Obviously, the cocktail is hitting my bloodstream a lot quicker than I’d anticipated.
When he leans in close to my ear, the hairs on my neck prickle to attention.Oh God, I hope he’s finally going to kiss me.
“Go tell your friends you’re leaving. I’ll wait for you out front.”
My eyes snap to his, triggering a rush of queasiness to form in my stomach. “I can’t leave with you.”
I may be extremely tipsy, maybe very close to drunk, but I still know I can’t risk my career by leaving the club with him.
“It wasn’t a suggestion, Isabelle. Go and tell your friends you’re leaving and meet me out front.”
Frozen in place, I watch him move toward the office door, his strides long and effortless. He unlocks it before turning around to face me. His beautiful features are constricted with anger. “If you aren’t outside in five minutes, I’ll come and find you,” he advises me before strolling out into the hallway, not once glancing back in my direction.
CHAPTER11
An appreciative groan erupts from my throat as I snuggle into a smooth and soft texture. I don’t know what thread count these sheets are, but they’re the softest I’ve ever laid on. I’ll have to thank Regina for replacing my bedding as these sheets make me feel as if I’m sleeping on a cloud.
After pulling my arms out of the quilt, I have a long and leisurely stretch. My muscles feel exerted, but that’s expected when you spend hours dancing in four-inch heels. When I sluggishly open my eyes, I come face to face with my disheveled reflection.
Oh, shit, where the hell am I?
I quickly sit up, causing a rush of dizziness to cluster in my head. My hands dart up to rub my temples, easing the furious pounding that makes it feel like my brain is escaping my skull. Once the urge to vomit passes, I glance around the starkly decorated bedroom. The space is vast, but it’s cold and sterile. I’m on the right side of a king-size four-poster bed. Other than the bed and two mahogany nightstands, the room is empty. There are no photos or knick-knacks on the bedside tables that would indicate whose bedroom I’m in, and no paintings adorn the walls. Other than the mirror on the ceiling, the room is as basic as they come.
When I peel the dark sheets away from my body, I discover I’m wearing nothing but a small, white V-neck cotton shirt. I don’t need to run my hands down my body to know I’m braless. Not just because I can feel the heaviness of my breasts, but because I didn’t have a strapless bra to wear with my strapless dress last night, but even more concerning than the fact I don’t have a bra on, is the fact I’m also not wearing any panties.
Oh God, Isabelle, what did you do?
I dive out of bed and yank open the top drawer on the bedside table, hoping it may give me some indication as to whose bedroom I am in. Other than a large, open box of condoms and a bottle of lubricant, the drawer is empty. I pull on the hem of my shirt, vainly trying to cover my buttocks as I rush to the other drawer. Inside this drawer is an extensive collection of ladies’ panties. On close inspection, I realize they don’t look recently washed.
Bile rises from my stomach to my throat as I slam the drawer shut. The chance of me being sick doubles when a door creaking open echoes through the room. I jump back into the bed to cover my naked derriere with the super-soft comforter and sheets.
