Page 72 of Enigma: The Complete Collection
“He hasn’t looked at anyone the way he looks at you in years. Not since Ophelia.”
Oh God!
“Was anyone else in the car with them?”
Brandon shakes his head
“Did Ophelia survive the accident?”
My vision blurs with tears when Brandon once again shakes his head.
CHAPTER31
“Where is he?”
Hugo’s tormented eyes lift to mine. He smiles before releasing the lock mechanism of Isaac’s town car. When I slide into the passenger seat, he pulls the car into the midday traffic and heads outside the city. He remains quiet, but he occasionally glances my way.
As soon as I could, without drawing attention to myself, I left the office and went straight to Harlow’s bakery. I knew either Isaac or Hugo would be there waiting for me. I’ve noticed the past few weeks whenever I exit the bakery, Isaac’s town car would be parked somewhere along that street.
I used to think it was because Isaac is a dominant alpha male, and he couldn’t stand the idea of another man moving in on his turf. Although part of his stalker behavior is because of that exact reason, I now believe I have a better understanding of why his behavior can be so erratic. After experiencing a loss, most people are reluctant to form an attachment again. They fear if they do, they may also lose that attachment. Although finding out Isaac has suffered a significant loss doesn’t excuse his poor behavior of late, my heart still yearns to comfort him.
My anxious eyes dart to Hugo when he pulls into a rundown building located an hour from Ravenshoe. He remains quiet, not answering my silent questions as he parks next to Isaac’s sleek black sports car. Once he turns off the ignition, he nudges his head to a roller door slightly ajar at the side of the warehouse.
I unlatch my belt and open the door. My steps freeze when Hugo starts the car and backs away from the rundown warehouse.
“Isaac will give you a lift home,” he says to my panicked expression before skidding out of the driveway, leaving nothing but a cloud of dust in his wake.
Clenching my fists at my side, I stride toward the metal and glass warehouse. Air traps in my throat when I walk into the desolate, rundown building. Isaac is wearing nothing but a pair of black gym shorts and dark running shoes. He’s covered head to toe in sweat and is undertaking a grueling routine on a cracked boxing bag hanging from the ceiling by a sizable rusted chain.
Sensing my presence, Isaac’s punishing onslaught on the bag stops. When his livid eyes turn, I’m rendered motionless, pinned in place. His heavy-lidded gaze rakes my body before returning to my face. He works his jaw side to side before turning his attention back to the bag. This time, his fury is unleashed with so much force, sand trickles from it like blood seeping from an open wound.
My panties moisten watching him work the bag so expertly. The way his muscles contract as he moves around the bag is an incredibly arousing visual, but even with it being a sexually inspiring sight, his anger projects off him in invisible waves.That anger is only there because of me.
Knowing there’s only one sentence a dominant male like Isaac wants to hear flowing from my mouth, I shout, “I didn’t sleep with anyone last night.”
My voice barely projects over his loud, angry grunts. “I haven’t had sexual contact with anyone but you in over a year.”
Isaac’s unbridled onslaught against the worn bag halts. He remains facing the bag, allowing my eyes the chance to absorb every muscle, dip, and curve of his sculptured back. He’s breathing so hard, his heavy pants echo through the deserted warehouse.
When he turns to face me, my pupils enlarge. His gaze is unnerving, but even with his eyes showing his anger, I see a small amount of reprieve forming in them.
“Say it again,” he requests, his voice hoarse from the harshness of his panting.
“I haven’t had sexual—”
“Not that statement. The one about last night,” he interrupts, his tone clipped.
Swallowing hard, I repeat, “I didn’t sleep with anyone last night.”
“Where were you?”
“I was working.”
His eyes stare into mine. He can see through to my soul, so he knows I’m telling the truth. Furthermore, he’d detect my deceit, so it would be fruitless for me to lie to him.
“Why didn’t you say that this morning when I asked you the same question?”
“Because I was angry with you.” Honesty echoes in my tone. “I wanted you to feel what I felt when I saw you with Tatiana.”
