Page 220 of Enigma: The Complete Collection
I shake my head. Blaming my poor choices on a drunken mistake is the easy way out. I’m more capable than that. I fucked up. I made a mistake, but if I’m being entirely honest, when I woke that morning, I wanted Isabelle to feel the betrayal I felt when I discovered she had lied to me for months on end. I wanted her to suffer through the broken trust I was dealing with. It was only when guilt surfaced, and my drunken haze lifted, did I realize I had made a colossal mistake. A blunder so mammoth our relationship may never come back from it.
When I found out Isabelle didn’t deceive me, I should have come clean before begging for forgiveness. Instead, I acted like a coward by sweeping it under the rug. I used Megan’s incident as a distraction from telling her because I knew she wouldn’t forgive me, but I couldn’t give her up.
I can’t give her up.
She’s my addiction.
She’s my everything.
She’s mine.
I will make this right. I just need time to work out how.
CHAPTER28
ISAAC
“Good afternoon, Isaac.” Tina leans over the bar so far, her cleavage is dangerously close to spilling out. “A gentleman is waiting for you in your office.”
While gesturing with my head that I heard her, I continue my brisk strides. I’m not surprised when I enter my office to discover my chair facing the window. Henry Gottle, Sr. has been a building watcher for as long as I’ve been born. Even living in a city with an abundance of scenery, he never stops absorbing every architectural structure and landscape around him.
“Henry.” I sling my jacket over my coat rack before spinning around to face him. His dark blue suit is only just visible on the arm of my leather chair, but a man with characteristics like Henry doesn’t require me to see his face to know it’s him. I can sense it in my bones.
“You’ve always had a fascination with arches, Isaac. The curve and the design of this window is marvelous.”
He waves his hands to the curved brick window in my office before swiveling the chair to face me. His dark blue suit is impeccably tailored, but he wears it with an edginess that makes him appear younger than he is. His wavy black hair, mocha-skin coloring, and icy blue eyes make him the spitting image of his son, although, obviously, he’s a few years older than him. Not many—just a few.
Henry became a father at the tender age of seventeen. People believe their rift is because Henry put his empire above his son, but that isn’t the case. Henry loves his son. He loves him so much he refused to let him live the lifestyle he was raised in.
Henry was born to be the man he has become. It was his destiny. Being the first-born son of the world’s most notorious mob boss guaranteed he’d have a viable reputation, but the difference between Henry and others in his industry is that he isn’t a monster, and he most certainly isn’t ruthless. He commands respect, but he does it without the underhanded and brutal tactics of his competitors. Everything I’ve learned the past nine years, I learned from Henry. He’s a second father to me.
“It’s a similar arch to the one you have in your bedroom window. Yes?”
Smirking, I nod. “It was done by the same architect. If I look hard enough from my bedroom window, I can see the Dungeon from there.”
Henry smiles. “The king overlooking his empire.”
I glance out the window. Before Isabelle, my every accomplishment was measured by my wealth, my business, and my reputation. Now, it all seems worthless. While running my hand along my cropped beard, my gaze shifts back to Henry. He’s studying me with as much concentration as he used on the architecture of my office. “Did you get the photos?”
His eyelid gets an involuntary tick. “Yes.” His short reply doesn’t allude to his findings. He’s skilled at keeping his cards close to his chest. Another point that makes him brilliant in his industry.
“And?”
“You forgot a photo.” He stands from my chair and ambles toward me. “This one.” When he hands me the picture of Isabelle I left in the top drawer of my desk, a fierce storm brews within me, surged on by my vital necessity to protect Isabelle. Sensing my vicious composure, Henry stills. The chill of his icy gaze runs over my face, absorbing the turmoil scorching my veins. “She’s your Katarina?”
Katarina was Henry’s one and only love. She’s also Henry, Jr.’s mother. Not only did Henry give up his son to save him from this lifestyle, he also gave up the love of his life as well.
“Yes, she’s my Katarina.”
Henry’s brows pull together as his eyes dash between mine. “Do you know who she is?” This time, he leaves his cards laying on the table fully exposed for me to see.
I nod. “Yes.”
“Then you know she can’t be your Katarina. You dodged a bullet once with Ophelia. You can’t dodge it again with her.”
I shoot him a wry look, warning him that he overstepped the mark with his comment. “She doesn’t have any association with Vladimir. She doesn’t even know him—”
“Just like Ophelia was unaware her father was trying to sign you as his fighter for months before you started dating?”
