Page 25 of Enigma: The Complete Collection
When he notices my eyes wandering over his body, Isaac runs his index finger down my arm.
“Anyway, we have him all decked out like a choirboy about to go to church on Sunday. Isaac arrives on the scene of an underground fight ring acting all innocent like it’s the first time he’s been to an event like that. Only once an impressive purse was negotiated for a fight, did Isaac reveal his true self. By then, it was too late for his opponent to back out. An easy five G’s for ten minutes of work,” Cormack informs.
Cormack leans back into the booth and takes a sizable gulp of the brown liquid from the crystal glass in his hand.
“Wow.”
Now part of Isaac’s FBI file makes sense, like where he got the money he invested in stocks while he was still in college. His file leads us to believe it was from him illegally distributing and manufacturing drugs. And although underground fighting is illegal, it doesn’t hold the same repercussions as drug manufacturing and dealing does.
“How many years did you fight?”
My interrogation is exclusively based on personal motives. I find Isaac intriguing. The more time I spend with him, the more personal information I want to unearth about him.
“Just under two years,” he replies, his brows lowering.
“Why did you stop fighting?”
His jaw muscle tremors before his eyes flick to Cormack. When he shakes his head, Cormack’s brows furrow before he nods. My eyes shoot to Harlow. She shrugs, feeling the tension as well. The longer the silence continues, the more the air surrounding our group permeates with the thick stench of awkwardness.
The uncomfortable silence is only interrupted when the restaurant hostess saunters her way to the booth and notifies our group our table is ready. Cormack gestures for Harlow to follow the hostess.
My anxious eyes dart to Isaac, wordlessly questioning if he still wants us to join his table. His eyes roam my face while he contemplates a response. When he motions for me to follow the hostess, I hesitantly slide out of the booth.
Cormack and Isaac follow closely behind us. I can hear them talking, but with the hum of activity inside the restaurant, I’m unable to understand any of their words.
The instant we’re seated, Isaac signals for the waiter to bring him a glass of whiskey. “Bring back the whole bottle.” His tone is surly and rough.
For the next hour, Isaac spends the majority of our meal silently brooding and consuming whiskey as if it’s coffee. Although I try to keep my focus on Cormack and Harlow, my eyes persistently shift to Isaac. Cormack has been a faultless gentleman the entire meal, and Harlow hangs off his every word, but my attention remains on what caused the sudden shift in Isaac’s personality. Why did such a simple question spark such an adverse reaction? He went from flirty, friendly banter to cold and distant in a matter of seconds.
When the waiter removes Isaac’s untouched plate of food, I place my hand on his thigh and give it a gentle squeeze. His eyes lift from his glass of whiskey to me. He assesses all the features of my face in silence. His gaze still causes a shiver to run through my body, but this time, it’s more from his icy glare than excitement.
“Don’t take his lack of interest personally, Isabelle.” I stray my concerned eyes to Cormack. “For as long as I’ve known Isaac, he has never been interested in dating brunettes.”
“Oh.” My eyes turn back to Isaac as my throat works hard to swallow. “Is there any particular reason?”
I stare into Isaac’s despondent eyes, begging for him to deny Cormack’s statement, to acknowledge the confusing, flirtatious connection we have. Even though Isaac appears to be staring straight at me, he isn’t seeing me—he’s looking straight through me.
“It’s a personal preference,” he replies coldly. “No brunette I’ve everfuckedhas maintained my interests once we leave the bedroom.”
My heart plunges into my stomach. I try to mask my hurt with a smile, but my deception is revealed when my hand rattles as I reach for my wine glass.
Isaac stands from the table, looking prepared to excuse himself for the night. His hasty getaway is foiled when a group of waiters moves toward our table singing a rendition of ‘Happy Birthday.’
My cheeks enflame as my embarrassed eyes flick up to Harlow. She’s smiling radiantly and waggling her eyebrows. When a giant chocolate cake covered in candles is placed down in front of me, Isaac curses under his breath and flops back into his chair.
Ignoring the obvious tension plaguing our group, Harlow excitedly instructs, “Make a wish.”
My focus flashes between the three sets of eyes complacently staring at me. My gaze loiters on Isaac’s a touch longer than the other two. His beautiful eyes quell my anxiety. I close my eyes before blowing out the candles in one swift motion.
Clapping and laughter dispel when I brush my lips against Isaac’s soft, plump lips.
CHAPTER14
The brush of my tongue against Isaac’s lips is met with a mouth that’s hard and stern. My heart pounds so profusely, it’s nearly deafening. Tears burn my eyes as my nose runs. I’ve always been an ugly crier. Tonight will be no different.
I kissed him with the hope of proving him wrong. I kissed him wanting to force him to recount the lie he just told. I kissed him because I couldn’t wait any longer to feel his lips on mine. Now, I feel like a fool. I can’t even coerce the guy who has gotten under my skin to give me a pitiful birthday kiss.I am pathetic.
Slowly pulling away from his snapped-shut mouth, I pray his desire for me overwhelms him so much, he refuses to relinquish my mouth from his.
