Page 303 of Enigma: The Complete Collection
My pulse quickens when he shifts on his feet to face me. “If you cry, I won’t let you leave.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, giving it my best shot not to let my tears fall. As much as me going back to Tiburon will hurt my relationship with Isaac, I need to do this. I need answers to a whole heap of questions hazing my mind, and the only place I can get those answers is in Tiburon.
Not giving him a chance to reject me, I finalize the last steps between us, then throw my arms around his neck. I burrow my nose into the crook of his neck and inhale deeply, absorbing the delicious scent of his skin. My heart hammers my ribs when he pulls me in close like he doesn’t want to let me go. He's gripping onto me for dear life, afraid I might vanish.
I place a kiss on his ear, his ticking jaw, then his mouth. “I love you.”
Feeling my composure slipping, I whisper a faint goodbye, then race to his door. Before I can exit, he seizes my wrist, yanks me back, then seals his lips over mine. The salt of my tears enhances the flavor of our kiss. It’s a lush, mind-spiraling embrace that’s packed with emotion. I project my sorrow for my cruel words as well as my love.
By the time he pulls away, I want to forget everything. I want to sweep it under the rug and act as if it never happened, but I can’t. I need to do this, or our relationship won’t be built on a solid foundation. It will be once again founded on lies and secrets.
When Isaac cups my cheeks so his thumb can rub away my tears, I urge my tears to stop falling. I can’t leave him crying, or our time apart will hurt him even more—he doesn’t deserve more pain.
I impress myself with how quickly I can rein in my tears when it’s for Isaac’s benefit. I’ve never been able to stop my tears flowing before, but I'd do anything for the man standing in front of me—even breaking my own heart.
The concern in Isaac’s eyes lessens when he notices mine are no longer welling with tears. After rubbing his thumb over the cupid’s bow of my lip, he places a kiss on my temple, then abruptly pulls away. His fluid strides have him standing back near his office window quicker than the blink of an eye.
“Go now, or I’ll never let you go.”
Pivoting on my heels, I rush out of his office, not risking the chance of looking back because right now, if he asked me to stay, I'd never leave.
CHAPTER27
ISABELLE
Igrunt while increasing the pressure on the door. Because of the build-up of mail placed in the slot, it’s jammed with envelopes and catalogs.
Hugo’s soft chuckles echo through my ears before he pushes on the door with one hand, opening it with ease.
I roll my eyes. “Thanks.”
Tears prick in my eyes when I walk into the place I called home for eighteen years of my life. It looks the same as it did when I left. Even the wooden leg on the dining table still has the drawing I made one evening when Uncle Tobias and his friends were playing poker. I was supposed to be asleep hours earlier, but I hid under the dining table when no one was looking. I learned a lot of new Russian words that night—none worth repeating.
After I confessed about where I learned my new words from did Uncle Tobias unearth my masterpiece. Ever since the day he discovered my family portrait of him, Dedushka, and me, the table was no longer adorned with a tablecloth. My uncle didn’t want my artwork hidden by an ugly tablecloth. That day was over fourteen years ago, but it still holds a special place in my heart.
I motion my head to the hallway. “You can put your bag in the spare room. It’s the third door on the right.”
Hugo’s lips curl into a grin before he enters the hall with his overnight bag. He packed as lightly as I did.
Even after an exhausting day full of tears, fear, and heartbreak, I head straight for my uncle’s office in the garage in the backyard, not wanting to waste any time. The flight to this side of the country was horrific, but thankfully uneventful. Although I’m confident Hugo’s hands will forever have my nails embedded in them.
Dust filters through my nose when I crack open the glass sliding door of my uncle’s office. This was my favorite room in the entire Brahn residence, not just because it has beautiful views of Tiburon esplanade down below, but because anytime my uncle was home from an assignment, we spent the majority of our time in here. He’d assign me my own case files that I had to work on during school holidays. I was his personal assistant/partner. Here is where my love for law enforcement was ingrained into my blood, and my fondness for investigating flourished.
That’s why I blurted out those cruel words to Isaac yesterday. I wanted to be an FBI agent from when I was ten years old, but Uncle Tobias would never allow it. He said it ran too much risk of my real identity being discovered. The repercussions for people finding out my identity wasn’t a risk he was willing to take. That was the sole reason I didn’t join the FBI until after he passed. And even though I'll always choose Isaac over my career, part of the dreams I had from when I was a little girl vanished when I agreed to become his wife, but he's worth the sacrifice. He willalwaysbe worth the sacrifice.
Snubbing the tears welling in my eyes, I head for the locked side room where Tobias stored all his case files. It doesn’t take long for me to work out the four-digit lock code that secures the door from prying eyes. It is the date he officially bought me.
“Holy cupcakes,” I murmur when the overhead tube lighting flicks on in the stuffed room.
Walls upon walls of document boxes stretch as far as the eye can see. Every surface of the single garage is covered with moldy, wet boxes. The glimmer of an orange hue on one of the boxes gives away the reason why the room has a moldy smell. A tile in the roof is cracked, exposing the room to the elements.
After shrugging off my jacket, I throw it over an office chair before moving the drenched boxes out from beneath the hole in the roof. The cartons crumble under my touch, ruined after being subjected to elements the past three years.
By the time I hear Hugo calling my name, I’ve saved half the documents in the first two drenched boxes. The other half is completely destroyed. They’re nothing but soggy papers with smears of black ink swirled on them.
Hugo walks into the room with a grin etched on his face. “I was getting worried you were trying to get me fired again.”
When I stick out my tongue, his grin enlarges. The curve in his lips bends downward when he spots the soaked boxes. “What’s this room?”
