Page 24 of My Grumpy Billionaire Protector

Yet, it still makes me sick to my stomach.

This isn’t the kind of thing we did because we are supposed to go through the proper channels.

But Isaiah isn’t known for his patience, and the last thing I want is to get on his bad side.

All I need is for ten minutes of Alba Coombes’ time.

Provided she doesn’t sick her security on us first.

Fucking hell.

Sometime later, when I finally pull up to the wrought-iron gates in front of our compound, I feel better about the whole thing. Hell, I’ve even convinced myself that using unusual methods to get the governor’s attention is a good thing.

He has to appreciate the ingenuity of it all.

Or, at least, that’s how I hope he sees it.

At the gate, the guards and I exchange a quick nod, and I punch the code in before the gates part with a shudder. I drive the car slowly. The trees rush past on either side until I reach the end of a large gravel driveway with a brick mansion nestled in the middle. There, I kill the engine and sit with my fingers twisted together. I turn to face Pierce and Cory, my gaze switching back and forth between the two of them.

I say nothing and push the door open. Out on the street, I inhale, catching the scent of grass and wildflowers before I shove my hands into my pockets. After a quick glance around, I walk over to the trunk and haul it open.

Once we step in through the front door, I hear the sounds of a struggle. After exchanging a quick look with Pierce and Cory, we hurry down the hallway, in the direction of Isaiah’s office. We burst through the double doors, and I do a double take when I see a woman on the floor with her hands tied behind her back. She struggles against her restraints and glares daggers at Isaiah who looks unfazed. I drag my gaze away from the hardwood floor and lift it up toward Isaiah’s armchair where he sits with his profile bathed in the soft glow of the fire.

Orange and red flames dance and leap as he watches them before turning to face us. “Problems?”

”Who the hell is this?”

Isaiah links his fingers together over his lap. “The solution to our problems. This is Alba Coombes.”

“Alba? I’m not Alba.” The woman pushes herself up off the floor and sits back on her legs. “You’ve got the wrong person.”

Isaiah frowns. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m not Alba, I swear.”

Isaiah jumps to his feet, rips the blindfold off, and swears. “What the fuck is this?”

My blood turns to ice. “I should be asking you that question.”

Quickly, I bend down in front of her and peer at her face. I take in the small nose, the high arched brows, and the full generous lips before my eyes travel up to her eyes. They are a soulful brown, filled with anger.

Alba Coombes has blue eyes.

I take a packet of tissues out of my back pocket and begin to clean her face. “Is this some kind of twisted joke, Isaiah? Because I’m not laughing.”

I have no idea what he’s planning, but my earlier unease returns tenfold.

“This isn’t Alba Coombes.” Isaiah’s words are filled with ice and barely concealed fury. “Those idiots got the wrong person.”

I hold the woman’s gaze and say nothing.

Instead, I continue to clean her face and try to ignore the racing of my heart.

What the hell has Isaiah done?

I’ve always known Isaiah likes to straddle the line between legal and illegal, but this is a new low, even for him.

This has the potential to have a devastating ripple effect on the company.

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