Page 308 of Enigma: The Complete Collection
Within a second, her determined stance goes lax, and her arms sling around my neck. When I grope the back of her thighs, her legs curl around my waist. Her switch from resolute to submissive is quick and complete.
I rock my hips, ensuring she can feel the effect she has on my body. She isn’t the only one who becomes lost when we're together. My astuteness, my levelheadedness, my ruthlessness, it all becomes null and void when her mouth is on mine.
My kiss steals every whimper escaping her mouth as my stiffened shaft rubs the seam of her jeans. I don’t know if any of my staff are still in the vicinity, and in all honesty, I don’t care. No one else matters when Isabelle is on my radar.
Not a soul.
My blood thickens, enticed by the mass injection of endorphins from Isabelle’s mind-blowing kiss. She makes me feel invincible like nothing could ever stop me from achieving my dreams, and I want it to be the same for her. That’s why I spent the last thirty-six hours doing precisely that, ensuring I decipher how she can have both her dreams and me. Once all the pieces of the puzzle are in place, I’ll show her that I didn’t steal her dreams, they were just hidden from view for a few months.
When I pull back from our embrace, Isabelle’s eyes bounce between mine. She doesn’t need to speak. Her eyes are expressive enough. Her sorrow for her harsh words and her silent pleas for forgiveness are all relayed by her rich chocolate eyes. No words need to seep from her lips for her to articulate her remorse.
I press a kiss to her palm before placing it on my heart, soundlessly forgiving her.
Tears form in her eyes as she replies to my declaration of love with words. “I love you too.”
Her breaths quicken when I walk us down the long hallway of my residence. She intakes a quick, sharp breath when I swing open the bedroom door at the end of the hall, her arousing purr hardening my cock.
When I push my lips to the shell of her ear, the hairs on her neck prickle. “If you ever try to leave me again, I'll tie you to that swing and never let you leave this room.”
She shudders in my arms as her thighs strengthen their grip on my hips. I snap my eyes shut and inhale deeply, relishing the smell of her skin mingled with the scent of her arousal. Once I’ve had half my fill, I pace us toward the sex swing hanging in the middle of the room, my lengthened strides only stopping when Isabelle murmurs, “Ophelia is alive.”
CHAPTER30
ISABELLE
Other than Isaac stiffening, I would assume he didn’t hear my statement. On the flight back to Ravenshoe, I envisioned ways of telling him more judiciously, but my plans flew out the window when I saw the determination set in his eyes—the yearning to claim and mark me as his, to ensure I was aware I belonged to him. His dominant nature beams out of him. It’s as natural to him as breathing, but I don’t want him to claim me when he's not aware of the extenuating circumstances that may change his mind about whom he wants to claim.
I love Isaac, but even I know that may not be enough anymore.
My initially devised tactic already altered once tonight when I arrived at the arena where Isaac was preparing to participate in a charity fight. When I saw him sitting on the bench with his head hanging low, deep in thought, I knew I couldn’t share my discovery with him in that environment. Tonight was the first time he’s stepped foot into the ring since Ophelia’s ‘accident.’ That, alone, showed he was emerging from the dark cloud that’s been plaguing him since her ‘death.’
Even knowing Ophelia is alive, Isaac needed to go through that process to help him heal. Although I bit my nails the entire time, I watched his fight from the side of the arena. The instant I spotted his succulent smirk, I knew I made the right decision. He loved every second of the match, even getting battered and bruised.
My gaze turns down to Isaac, waiting for some reaction. He remains quiet with his darkened eyes flicking between mine. My heart bleeds when he places me back onto my feet, then takes a step back. His eyes are clouded with confusion, and his ruthless businessman mask is secured firmly in place.
“My uncle saved her from her father’s clutches.” My voice comes out trembling to match the flipping of my queasy stomach. “She was never in an accident. She’s been living in Tiburon the entire time.”
A look I’ve never seen crosses over his face before it vanishes as quickly as it came. He stands across from me, completely motionless. His shoulders are square and taut, and his lips are etched into a harsh, thin line.
“Say something.”
His silence is cutting deeper than any words he could possibly say, proving people who claim ‘silence is golden’ have obviously never been in his presence when he's staring at you like you’re a stranger, where mere minutes ago, he was peering at you in awe. He’s never been a communicator, preferring to use his body to express himself rather than words, but his silence weighs heavily on my chest, amplifying the pain crippling me.
The clutch gripping my heart firms when I take a step toward him, and he shakes his head, soundlessly rejecting me. Realizing he most likely needs answers, I dig the photo Brandon gave me out of the pocket of my jeans. After smoothing out its wrinkles, I hand it to him. The tremor zapping my arm makes the picture shake like a feather in a hot summer breeze.
“Her name is now Olivia. She’s a pharmacist in a town on the outskirts of Tiburon.”
The darkness in Isaac’s eyes changes when they dart down to assess the picture. I balk when he snatches it out of my clasp to appraise it. His eyes flick as he ticks off each of Ophelia’s unique features. I did the same thing when my eyes first absorbed this photo—same nose, same eyes, same face, same heart-shaped mole.
I lick my lips, soothing their dryness so I can continue with my story before I lose the nerve. “She has a child. A little boy.”
The temperature in the room turns roasting when Isaac’s eyes rocket back to mine. Sweat beads on my neck before it trickles down my spine.
“How old?” His voice is the deepest I’ve ever heard it.
“At a guess, I'd say around six.”
Knuckles popping echo around the room before he makes a beeline for the door. I stand frozen for a beat, my mind unable to comprehend what’s transpiring. After several heart-thrashing seconds, I snub the stabbing tearing my heart in two and take off after him. My lungs stop working when I discover him in the master suite packing an overnight bag. Every nightmare I imagined comes to fruition as I watch him move around the room, gathering enough necessities to last him a minimum of three days.
