Page 313 of Enigma: The Complete Collection
This day just got ten times worse.
I'm wearing what I’m going to assume is Hugo’s short-sleeve college shirt. I’m assuming it is Hugo’s since it has a faded Rochdale Village emblem on the front.
Isaac’s gaze lifts from my shirt to my eyes. “Get dressed so I can take you home.”
Any protest preparing to whimper from my lips halt from his furious glare that sears me motionless. “Get dressed!” he demands in his low, knee-quaking tone.
My eyes scan the room, seeking the microscopic dress I wore last night. I find it draped over the master bathroom door handle on my left. With shaking thighs, I scamper off the bed, ensuring I hold down the hem of Hugo’s shirt so it maintains a respectable length.
I slip into my tight mini dress as Isaac removes the heavy piece of furniture blocking the doorway as if it is weightless. Once I have the zipper in place, I hesitantly pad across the room. My breath snags in my lungs when Isaac pivots around to face me. A deep, knee-clanging growl tears through his stern lips when he absorbs the outfit I wore in public last night. It’s so skimpy, it could be classed as a piece of lingerie instead of a dress.
In silence, Isaac shrugs off his jacket, places it over my shoulders, then secures the three buttons into place. Once his jacket is covering half of my body, he encloses his hand around mine and strides to the door. His steps are so fast and furious, I have to jog to keep up with him.
When we enter the living room, I scan Hugo’s apartment, seeking any sign of him. When my gaze comes up empty, I turn my eyes to Isaac. “Where's Hugo?”
His grip on my hand firms, causing pain to shoot up my arm, but he remains quiet. My eyes widen when we enter the hallway. The security personnel who work in the lobby of Hugo’s apartment building are standing guard at the elevator bank, ensuring no one can access the elevator. I'm surprised the fire warden would allow them to block an entire elevator.
Suddenly, clarity forms. Isaac owns the building, so if he wants to garner an elevator for personal use, so be it.
The security officer warily smiles as the elevator doors snap shut, entrapping me in a small mirrored box alone with an infuriatingly angry Isaac. He's so mad, heat is radiating off him in invisible waves, making my hungover state even more noticeable. I close my eyes and inhale deeply, vainly trying to settle the swirling of my stomach.
They crack back open when the elevator dings and my arm is yanked. Isaac’s fluid steps move us out of the elevator and into his awaiting town car at the speed of lightning. The swishing of my stomach amplifies when I see Hugo’sbabystill parked in his car space.
I duck into the back of Isaac’s town car, slide across the seat, then raise my eyes to the rearview mirror. A sigh spills from my lips when I notice Roger’s dark gaze reflecting back at me.
“Is Hugo okay?”
Isaac doesn’t respond to my question. He just keeps his gaze planted on the scenery outside as we make the thirty-minute trip to his residence in complete silence.
“Your services will not be required for the remainder of the day,” Isaac informs Roger when his vehicle pulls into the front steps of his private residence.
His dangerously low tone causes a shiver to tingle down my spine. He glides out of the back seat of the car before tipping his torso back in to assist me out. A highly inappropriately-timed grin creeps onto my mouth, pleased by his chivalry.
When we enter the foyer, my eyes dart to the entryway table. My engagement ring, cell phone, and the handwritten note are where they were last night, meaning Isaac is only returning home now.
With his hand still gripping mine, Isaac briskly guides me into the master bathroom. He walks me into the double-headed shower, turns the water on full pelt, then holds me underneath the freezing cold spray. My loud squeals shrill through my ears before clustering in my hungover head. I fight against him, wanting to adjust the water temp to a more acceptable level, but a person of my size doesn’t have a chance in hell against a man with the strength of Isaac, much less when it’s hardened with anger.
Once I’m saturated head to toe, he adjusts the temperature of the water to a more appropriate, non-teeth-chattering setting. Still clothed, he scrubs his thumbs over my lips, removing all traces of Hugo’s kiss from my mouth. Remorse grips my heart from the devastated look in his eyes.
By the time he drops his hand, my lips are swollen, tingling, and raw. I figure that’s the end of it, but the shredding of my dress proves we’re only getting started. He shreds my dress right off my body, dumping it along with my black lace panties into the waste bin under the vanity sink.
“Hugo and I didn’t—”
My words trap in my throat when he glares. “I swear to God, Isabelle, if you mention his nameonemore time today, I'll take you over my knee, andhewill lose the ability to breathe.”
He stares at me, assuring I’m aware his threat isn’t idle. Even though his comment is laced with viciousness, he appeases some of my concern by confirming Hugo is safe—for now.
I remain completely motionless when he uses his shower gel to lather my body in a thick coating of bubbles. Once the bubbles have been removed, his dedication turns to shampooing my hair. The slightest moan seeps from my lips when his fingertips massage the pressure points in my thumping skull.
My pulse quickens when his furious eyes dart down to mine. “This isn’t for you.”
Once the shampoo has been removed from my hair, Isaac steps out of the shower, taking me with him. His saturated dress shirt, vest, and trousers cling to his body, showcasing the spectacular ridges of his muscles as he drags a fluffy towel over my body.
Once I'm dry, he gathers me in his arms and strides into the master suite. Goosebumps form on my body from his wet clothes clinging to my bare skin, but Isaac is too steaming with anger to notice the chill.
After placing me on the bed, he removes his wet clothes, replacing them with a pair of running shorts and a white shirt. Even with my heart twisting in pain, my eyes can’t help but run over his glorious body, absorbing every perfect dip, plane, and curve into my memory.
Once he's dressed, sans underwear, he gathers one of his dark blue shirts from the drawer and pivots around to face me. My teeth gnaw on my bottom lip when it dawns on me what he's doing. He's removing Hugo’s scent from my skin by replacing it with his own. Because I slept in Hugo’s bed in his shirt, his woodsy smell infused onto my skin.
