Page 297 of Enigma: The Complete Collection
“I'm not the one blinded.” He steps around his desk. “I'm trying to stop you from making a foolhardy mistake. To get you out of his clutches before you’re buried so deep you’ll never get out.”
“It’s too late. I’m already in that deep. I love him, Alex, and nothing you’ll say will change that.”
He laughs his scary witch-like cackle that sends nerves scuttling through my body.
I roll my eyes and continue with my pursuit to the door, my fast strides stopping when he discloses, “Isaac is working with Vladimir Popov.”
I'm paralyzed in shock, my hand gripping the door handle for dear life. Surely, I didn’t hear him right. There's no way Isaac would work with my father. He knows how much I despise him. He knows what a monster he is. He wouldn’t betray me like that.
“He made an illegal transfer to Vladimir’s enterprise for the amount of two point four million dollars.”
I pivot around to face Alex, my footing unsteady since I'm unable to secure a full breath. “Isaac doesn’t have any dealings with Vladimir. You must be mistaken.”
The harshness in Alex’s eyes softens when he spots tears pricking in mine. He yanks open the bottom drawer of his desk to pull out an FBI folder. He hesitates for only a second before he hands me the document wallet. My hand shakes when I flip it open. There is a heap of surveillance photos inside. The first thing my vision zooms in on is Isaac sitting at a table across from a gentleman I’ve seen in many photos the past few months. His face is familiar, but his name has slipped my mind.
“That’s Albert Sokolov.” Alex’s tone has returned to a normal level. “He's Vladimir Popov’s number two man.”
I nod, recalling seeing his face in the records I scanned into the FBI database. With my heart on lockdown, I flip past the photos to a document that shows a series of money transfers.
“It took a lot of work tracking their payments through the numerous channels they used. They kept the transfers under ten thousand dollars not to trigger an alert, but I linked the original transfers from business accounts of Isaac’s to an associate of Vladimir’s.”
Remaining quiet, I scan the information unable to form a response to what I'm seeing much less Alex’s comments.
The next lot of surveillance photos show Isaac climbing the stairs of a private jet. With the distinctive buildings in the background, it isn’t hard to unearth he’s in Las Vegas. My heart painfully squeezes when I take in the date displayed in the bottom corner. It’s the day I went to the gala with Brandon, the same morning Isaac was too busy to take my call when I was frantic about Clara’s allegations.
After snapping the folder shut, I hand it back to Alex. As my mind struggles to unjumble the information overloaded in it, I keep my gaze focused on a speckle of dust on Alex’s desk. My breath snags halfway to my lungs when my engagement ring glistens in the afternoon sun. I twirl it around my finger, recalling the glimmer Isaac’s eyes held when I agreed to become his wife. There has to be more to this story than what’s displayed in front of me. Isaac would never hurt me like this. He loves me, and I trust him.
“Thank you for sharing this information with me, but I trust Isaac. He’d never hurt me like this.” My words are strong even though I feel anything but.
Alex’s top lip twitches. “Isabelle, don’t be foolish. You need to get out of his stranglehold and investigate this more thoroughly.”
“I will. I’m going to. Just not here.” I gesture my hand around his office. “I have to go.”
When I reach the door, Alex questions, “Did you know Isaac and Regan kissed?”
After inhaling a deep breath, I turn around to face him. “Yes.”
He balks, surprised by my response.
“And if you stopped and evaluated the facts like you're requesting me to do, you’d realize why they kissed. Isaac isn’t a threat to your relationship with Regan, Alex. Only you are. And if you wait too long, you'll lose her, and you’ll regret it every day of your life.”
With that, I leave his office without a backward glance.
Ten minutes later, I'm pushing the buzzer for Brandon’s apartment. Brandon lives in a fancy apartment building on Tivot street. It’s the reason he was on the scene so quickly when Hugo was shot. He administered aid to Hugo until the first responders arrived. Hugo’s memories of the incident are fuzzy at best. All he recalls is chasing the white Range Rover, then waking up in the recovery unit at the hospital. Lucky for him, Brandon is well-trained in first aid.
When Brandon fails to answer the buzzer, I step out of the alcove and glance up at his window. The living daylights are scared out of me when I’m suddenly grabbed in a tight squeeze. When I spot the boyish face of the person responsible for shoving me one step closer to my grave, I slap his shoulder.
“Jesus, Brandon, you scared the shit out of me.”
He smiles his infamous lopsided grin. “Sorry, Izzy.” He's dressed down in designer jeans and a thick wool coat and is balancing a brown paper bag of groceries on his hip. “What are you doing here?” His tone is friendly but with a dash of apprehension.
“I just left Alex’s office.”
His lips etch into a hard line as he curtly nods. After placing a code on the security door and opening it, he gestures for me to enter first. When I slip under his arm and walk into the warm, inviting foyer, he scans the street before following me inside.
I work out why he’s so cautious when he asks, “Does Isaac know you’re here?”
I grimace before shaking my head. “He’s in a meeting. I left him a note.”
