Page 252 of Enigma: The Complete Collection
Regan, as always, looks stunning in a pleated black pencil skirt and fitted fire-engine red jacket. The only thing tainting her remarkable beauty are the tears staining her cheeks. Hunter is dressed in his regular attire—jeans and a plaid shirt rolled up at the sleeves. He looks tired, but a smile is sneaking out from behind his thick beard.
“How’s Hugo?” Isaac queries, intuiting the reason for Regan’s tears without needing to ask her.
Regan smiles. “He's good, already nagging to get out of here.”
Isaac jerks up his chin. “I talked to Jae. If he maintains good vitals and the wound doesn’t show any signs of an infection, she may discharge him on homecare by tomorrow afternoon or the following day.”
Regan’s brows furrow. “He can’t go back to his apartment by himself.”
Isaac shakes his head. “No, he can’t. I’ll arrange a room in my house, and a dedicated team of nurses to look after him.”
Regan’s lips thin as a stern disposition morphs over her face. “Have them set it up in the spare room in my penthouse. Then I can keep a close eye on him.”
My heart rate hastens as my suspicious eyes bounce between Isaac and Regan. Does Regan want Hugo close because he's her frosting companion? Or is she genuinely concerned about his well-being?
I stare into her evocative eyes, but just like Isaac, she keeps her emotions locked up so tight, it’s hard for me to read her true intentions. Thankfully, Hunter doesn’t have any tact. “Are you keeping an eye on Hugo or Raquel?”
He chuckles when Regan slaps him on the chest. “Shut up.”
Isaac’s snickers stop when my confused eyes dart to his. “Raquel, the nurse who came into Hugo’s room last night, is Regan’s sister—”
“She isn’t a nurse,” Regan interjects, glaring at Isaac.
When Isaac shrugs, my eyes shoot back to Regan. Raquel and Regan do have the same hair and eye coloring, but they seem at complete opposite ends of the stratosphere regarding their personalities. Regan is high-strung and headstrong, where Raquel looks like a little ball of mischief who’s all about having fun.
“She's a thorn in my backside,” Regan says to my curious glance.
“Only because she's following her big sister’s footsteps,” says Isaac, smiling. His eyes turn down to me. “Don’t let Regan’s polished exterior fool you. It took a lot of spit to get her that shiny.”
My lips curve. I love seeing this side of him. It’s rare to see him out of his element. Other than Cormack, this is the first time I’ve seen him amongst friends. I know Hunter and Regan are technically his staff, but you can see how much he cares for them. They’re his family.
“Anyway.” Regan claps her hands together. “We didn’t come here to discuss the particulars of my teenage rebellion.” Her eyes narrow at Isaac when she says ‘teenage rebellion.’ “I’m here to see if you're ready to go?”
“Me? Where are we going?” I drift my eyes between three pairs staring at me like I have two heads on my shoulders instead of one daft one.
When Isaac leans in intimately close to my side, I wish we were alone. “Is it the concussion that's making you forgetful?”
I shake my head. Although I’m still a little dizzy and off-balance, I don’t have any other side effects from my concussion.
The heat of his breath tickles my earlobe when he murmurs, “It must be from me kissing you senseless then.”
I try to muffle my moan when he licks my earlobe, but it must be audible as Hunter excuses himself from the room, and Regan looks like she's about to be sick.
Eager to move our conversation along, Regan hands me an overnight bag. “I didn’t want to go through your belongings, so I packed you some of my clothes to wear today. We leave in ten minutes, so chop-chop.” She claps her hands again. “We can’t be late. We don’t want to give the judge any excuse to be mad at us.”
My mouth drops open. I completely forgot I'm due in court today. After pressing a quick peck to Isaac’s mouth, I dash into the bathroom. The thrashing of my heart matches the thumping of my head from my quick movements.
Five minutes later, I nervously walk back out. My hands are fisted in tiny balls at my side, and sweat is beading on my top lip. It isn’t my court appearance that has my insides juddering like a teenage girl who kissed the quarterback at the kissing booth, it’s the fact I’m wearing a black, studded Valentino shift dress and a pair of Jimmy Choo Romy pumps. Both items are gorgeous, but well over my budget if I get the teeniest stain on them. Even the dry-cleaning bill would cost a mint. Regan also included a black wool coat, but I'm perspiring so much with nerves, I’m overheated and don’t require a jacket.
Isaac’s head lifts when he senses my presence. The smirk carving onto his plump lips falters halfway when his eyes roam over my attire. I adjust the jacket over my arm, internally battling not to fidget from his vigorous assessment. I freeze, seared in place when his heavy-lidded gaze lifts to my face. His eyes are fiery, sparked by desire. He looks like a tiger about to go on the hunt, and he has his prey locked and loaded.
My pulse rings in my ears when he stealthily prowls toward me. He doesn’t speak a word as he wraps his arm around my shoulders and guides me out the hospital door, but I swear on my uncle’s grave, I hear him mumble “mine” under his breath when we walk past a pair of male interns in the hospital corridor.
An hour later, I'm tapping my foot on the polished tiled floor of the courthouse, waiting for my name to be called by the court bailiff. Although Isaac isn’t sitting next to me, his support is undoubtedly felt by the people surrounding me. Ryan is talking to Regan near Courtroom 4’s double doors. Hunter is talking on his phone to someone a few benches up from me, pretending he isn’t here with me, and Roger, Isaac’s driver-bodyguard, is standing in the hallway, ensuring no sneaky reporters accost me.
When Regan and I exited Isaac’s town car, we had to walk through a gauntlet of reporters screaming out a range of questions about Megan’s trial, my connection to Isaac, and if I had any comment on the news that Col Petretti was killed in an FBI operation yesterday afternoon. I breathed a sigh of relief when I realized the details of Col’s death and my kidnapping were not linked.
Regan talked to the reporters at the top of the courthouse stairs. She issued a statement about what my court hearing is about and how justice will finally prevail when all charges are dropped after her client, aka me, is found to have no connection to Megan Shroud’s death.
