Page 228 of Enigma: The Complete Collection
I’ve always said you must have all the evidence before forming an opinion on something, but I didn’t give Isaac the chance to explain anything before I fled his hotel room. In my defense, I was beyond devastated that night. My heart was torn into a million pieces just from the guilty look marring his handsome face.
“Have you heard Lady Gaga’s song, “Million Reasons?” My eyes pop up from the tabletop to peer at Harlow. When I shake my head, she adds, “You should listen to it. It really resonates with your situation.” She squeezes my hand. “It’s time for you to give it as good as you’re getting it, Izzy.”
A weary grin stretches across my face as the heaviness on my chest lessens.
“And while you’re at it, take that bitch, Clara, down once and for all.”
My weary smile turns into a full-toothed grin.
CHAPTER31
ISAAC
Okay, I’ll admit it. I reacted poorly when the man seated with Isabelle eyed her like she was a meal he was about to consume, but I lost the ability to rein in my jealousy when he placed his hand on the bare skin of her back. No man’s hands are allowed to touch skin that belongs to me, so you can be assured my threat wasn’t idle when I said I’d break every finger that touched her. He’s incredibly lucky he leads with his left hand, meaning his right would have remained untouched if he didn’t adhere to my warning. He was proven more smart than stupid when he obeyed my demand while talking to him on the phone. He walked away from Isabelle without injury. That, in itself, is miraculous.
When Harlow told Cormack she and Isabelle were going dancing, he immediately called me. Cormack hides it better than me, but he’s just as possessive of Harlow as I am of Isabelle. He didn’t want her dancing with deviant men while he stayed home, twiddling his thumbs, so I divulged a plan.
My club.
My staff.
My crew.
Isabelle and Harlow assume the guests in the VIP section are paying patrons. They aren’t. They’re staff who were instructed on how they could interact with Isabelle and Harlow. Dancing was fine as long as their hands remained at an appropriate distance, and no portions below their belts grinded against any part of either girl’s body. My ruse lost me thousands in revenue, but it was worth every penny to ensure no man would touch Isabelle.
Although Isabelle was furious at the waiter when I cut off her alcohol supply, I didn’t do it to ruin her night. I did it to save her from having a horrible nightmare. Avery explained that too much sugar in the evening could increase the risk of nightmares. Hugo said Isabelle’s nightmares have lessened the past two weeks, but I didn’t want anything dampening the quality of her sleep. She has enough going on in her life right now. She doesn’t need more added to the mix.
The past two weeks have been a major cluster-fuck. The lead singer of my brother’s band was in a critical accident that’s resulted in him being placed in an induced coma. Ravenshoe may not be on the map compared to bustling cities like New York, Paris, and the like, but it has one of the most advanced hospitals in the country. Cormack and I have made sure of it.
After harsh negotiations, my exchange of assets with Vladimir’s crew is scheduled to take place at the end of the month. Isabelle is due in court first thing Monday morning with the hope of having the charges expunged, and Henry, Jr. organized a way for my fighter, Jacob, to fight the current champion in our region, at the cost of over three million dollars. So, you can imagine my fury when Jacob refused to leave Noah’s bedside to participate in the fight he’s been nagging me to arrange for the past five months.
I can’t say I don’t understand his loyalty to his friend, but he has no clue how many hoops I had to jump through to get him that lucrative fight. Not only will he tarnish my reputation if he refuses to fight, but he’ll ruin any chance of fighting professionally again.
When the back-exit door of my club swings open, my gaze lifts from the screen on my phone. My heartbeat freezes when Isabelle emerges from the club looking more ravishing than she did in the surveillance footage I saw of her earlier tonight. She’s always been appetizing, but tonight she’s downright delectable.
Her quick steps falter when she senses my presence. Her head cranks to the left before swinging to the right, no doubt seeking me amongst the people milling outside the club. Hugo is the first to notice me leaning against the back panel of my town car. Although he’s never trained as a bodyguard, his eyes persistently scan his surroundings for potential threats. It’s a bad habit he established before he joined my empire.
After noticing the direction of Hugo’s gaze, Isabelle inhales a big breath before pivoting around to face me. The crippling pain in my chest amplifies when our eyes collide. Hers are the most broken I’ve ever seen them. I try to speak, but my words congest in my throat. Their constrictive hold is nearly as tight as the one strangling my heart from the devastated look on her face.
My heart whacks against my ribs when Isabelle tilts in close to Hugo’s side. I’m not being stung by the bite of jealousy, it’s the words she speaks to him that has my pulse kicking up. “I’ll meet you back at Regan’s.”
Smiling, Hugo nods before bridging the gap between his Chevelle and himself. Blood surges through my veins when Isabelle slowly saunters toward me. Her beautiful scent invades my nostrils when she glides past me to slide into the backseat of my town car.
I slip in after her before raising my eyes to Roger, who is peering at me in the rearview mirror. “To Regan’s apartment.”
Isabelle’s breaths become faster when I raise the privacy partition. She’s not the only one nervous. I can feel butterflies tap-dancing in my stomach, which is utterly ridiculous. I’ve never been nervous. Call me conceited, but I’ve never had a reason to be—until now.
I expel a deep breath before turning my eyes to Isabelle. Her gaze is fixated on the star-filled sky. She’s not taking in the scenery. She’s just trying to ignore the energy bristling between us. When I run my index finger down her forearm, the veins in my hand bulge and the hairs on her arms bristle. Even angry, her body can’t deny me.
It’s a pity the same can’t be said for her words. “Please don’t touch me.”
My hand recoils, scorched by her words. She’s never denied my touch before. For several painstaking minutes, we sit side by side, the distance between us feeling greater than the Amazon River. The further we travel, the more her eyes fill with tears. God, I hope she doesn’t cry. I can’t stand having this much distance between us as it is, let alone if she cries.
After biting on her bottom lip, internally battling to keep her tears at bay, she locks her eyes with mine. “When did it happen?”
To start with, I’m confused about what she’s referring to. So much has happened the last month, I’m struggling to process it all, but it only takes seeing the anger clouding her alluring eyes for me to understand. She’s talking about my incident with Clara.
I hesitate, unsure how to reply without making it seem as if I’m placing the guilt on Isabelle’s shoulders. She’s not to blame for my lapse in judgment, so I don’t want to make her feel that way.
