Page 217 of Enigma: The Complete Collection
Isaac doesn’t utter a word, but the attendant jumps into action. He places a key into the panel on the internal wall of the elevator and hits the ‘P’ button at the very top of the dashboard before removing his key and exiting the elevator car. It ascends straight to the top floor, not stopping at any of the levels highlighted on the panel.
My pulse twangs faster when we exit into a corridor with a burgundy and gold wool hallway runner down the middle. We head toward a set of double doors with ‘Presidential Suite’ written on a plaque next to them. My pupils widen nearly as large as my mouth when we walk into the room. It’s so massive, a cheerleading tournament could be held here.
After relinquishing my hand from his firm grip, Isaac strides to a set of cream French doors at the side of the expansive living area. His strides are so fast, I have trouble keeping up.
“Wow,” I murmur breathlessly when the twinkling lights of the city skyline come into sight. The view is awe-inspiring.
My jaw drops more with every step I take toward the large floor-to-ceiling windows. Nothing but the flickering of lights against a backdrop of skyscrapers can be seen, and because we’re on the very top floor, the people milling along the sidewalks are as tiny as ants.
When Isaac groans my name in a gruff, surly moan, I pivot to face him. Lines are creasing his forehead, and his eyelids are close to touching.
“Sorry. I was distracted by the view.”Although, it’s nowhere near as inviting as what I’m viewing now.
Isaac has kicked off his black polished dress shoes, removed his tuxedo jacket, and his black bow tie is unknotted and dangling around his neck. My mouth waters when he yanks the pleated white dress shirt out of his black trousers.
“Have you eaten tonight?”
I shake my head, unable to take my eyes off the delicious visual of him stripping to formulate words. We only left the storage room forty minutes ago, but the rush of excitement is still pumping through me.
He moves toward the king-size bed to gather the room service menu off the bedside table. “Do you want a full meal or something light?”
I shrug. “A cheeseburger and some fries?”
He watches me in silence, aware I’m usually more cautious about the number of carbs I consume after seven o’clock.
“My period is due.”
I cringe, but Isaac makes a face like everything suddenly makes sense. After ordering two cheeseburgers and a serving of fries, he requests for a large bowl of chocolate mint ice cream to be brought an hour later for dessert. It’s my favorite ice-cream when cramps are hitting me.
Thirty minutes later, we’re sitting in the living area of the suite eating mouth-salivating burgers. Grease dribbles down my hands from the overgenerous serving of swiss cheese, but I’m enjoying every delicious bite. We’re sitting on a thick Persian rug using the coffee table as a dining table. There’s an antique setting on our left, but you can’t eat burgers and fries in a formal dining area. That’d be like taking McDonald’s into one of Isaac’s fancy restaurants.
Isaac’s designer tuxedo has been replaced with a pair of well-fitted jeans and a blue cotton V-neck shirt. He’s barefoot and eye-catchingly gorgeous, although he’s returned to the mute I met at the airport many months ago. He maintained his quiet self the past half hour, only talking when he’s taken the occasional call on his cell. The fear plaguing his eyes earlier has dampened, ruefully overpowered by fury.
Gorged and minutes from sinking into a carbohydrate coma, I push away the plate of fries before bracing my back on the plush sofa. I’m so stuffed, I need to pop the top button on the jeans I slipped into before joining Isaac in the living area. When my eyes leisurely scan the beautiful suite decorated with rich materials and antique furniture, I wonder how Isaac can afford to pay his staff so well and live such an extravagant lifestyle.
After absorbing the luxurious surroundings, my eyes turn to an even more compelling visual. Since Isaac is so fixated on his iPhone, he fails to detect my snooping glance. His brows are pulled together, and his lips are set in a hard line. His furious composure should have me recoiling. It doesn’t. I’m on the opposite end of the spectrum.
When he throws down his phone with a huff, I ask, “Did Hugo find him?” I don’t want to increase his anger. I’m just curious.
Isaac shakes his head. “No. It appears he left the gala the instantyoudid.”
Anger radiates off him, making the room so stifling, it feels like I’m sitting next to a furnace. When he abruptly stands and paces into the master suite, I scamper off the sofa and chase him down. He shoots me a vicious glare when I enter the room on his heels. He balls his fists as a vicious scowl contorts his handsome face.
Over his moody, brooding machoism, I strip out of my clothing, leaving them where they fall. Once my cashmere sweater, jeans, and cami are removed, I kick them to the side, then pace toward him. My heart wallops my chest more with every step I take, but I don’t back down.
“Where do you want me?” When I stand in front of him in a strapless steel gray push-up bra and lace boy-leg panties, he arches a brow. “You’re angry at me, and you want to punish me, so where do you want me? On the bed? In the shower? Against the wall?” I stray my eyes to each location I mention. “Punish me. Get it out of your system, then we can move onto wading through the next shit-storm that hits us because it never ends, Isaac. The whole fucking universe is against us being together.”
Part of my grouchy mood has to do with my period being due, but the compilation of everything that’s happened the past two weeks is also catching up with me.
“I don’t care who the fuck is against us, Isabelle, all I care about is keeping you safe. He could have hurt you.” His voice heaves with uncontrollable anger. “But instead of telling me you were in danger when I arrived, you let me fuck you in the storage room like some sort of… of—”
“Whore?” I fill in. “Is that the word you’re seeking? Or maybe prostitute as that seems to be a term of endearment for me lately.”
“Don’t put words in my mouth!”
Tears burn my eyes from the anger flaring through his eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I’m too angry to give him the satisfaction of witnessing my tears.
“I wasn’t scared of him, Isaac—”
