Argh!This is the exact reason I didn’t want to go to Texas. I barely knew the man who bumped heads with me in the elevator, but that didn’t stop me from thinking about him twenty-four-seven for the two months that followed. If that didn’t already have my radar hollering, the fact I agreed to go home with him on the weekend of Luca’s memorial should have been all the indication I needed to know I should stay far away from him.
Perhaps I’m having a midlife crisis? I’m not thirty for another three years, but after everything I’ve been through, some days I feel like I’m fifty. Don’t get me wrong, when my thoughts stray to Alex, sex is on the forefront of my mind. But occasionally,everything he said and did this weekend also makes an appearance.
You couldn’t see his eyes when he held me after our foray in the business class bathroom. We were in the most unromantic venue you could possibly imagine, the zesty scent filtering the air constantly reminding us of our location, but nothing could take away from the emotions exchanged between us during that moment. It was beautiful—horrifyingly disgusting—but beautiful nonetheless.
My dinner stops creeping up my esophagus when a stern gaze secures my devotion. Isaac is glaring at me. It isn’t hismake your knees wobble with nothing but a sideways glancestare. It is more frightening than that. He wants to talk, and it has nothing to do with business.
Pretending I can’t read him as well as he can read me, I prop my hip onto the makeshift desk before glancing down at the business proposal displayed across it.
“I like it. Not sure I’d pay to enter the dance club, but desperation makes people stupid. So. . .” A shrug finalizes my reply.
Not believing my sudden interest in the nightclub designs he’s showing me is genuine, Isaac arches his brow. I act oblivious, my skills clearly unimpressive considering how narrow his eyes become.
“It’s nothing,” I eventually succumb, throwing my arms into the air. “It’s just a guy I met. He’s as confusing as you.”
Isaac takes my swipe at his ego with a smile. “Did you meet him while home for the weekend?”
My eyes rocket to his.How does he know I went home?
“Your credit card,” he fills in, smirking at my wide eyes and gaped mouth. “My accountant fills me in on any expenses charged—Every. Single. Morning.”
Misreading the anger in his tone as exploitation, I pledge, “I transferred my fare on the way here. I’m not expecting you to foot the bill—”
Isaac swipes his hand through the air, cutting me off. “I don’t care about the money. Your expenses are covered as part of your employment—travel included.” He waits for me to nod in agreement before continuing, “I’m more interested in your decision to return homethisweekend. How long has it been?”
He already knows my reply, but I pretend he doesn’t. “Nearly a year since I’ve been home. Eight since I’ve stepped foot in that church.”
Hearing the quiver in my words, Isaac moves around the desk to join me on the other side. He’s removed his suit jacket but kept on his beloved vest, giving him the enticing ruthless businessman look every woman craves—well, ones not suddenly obsessed with Viking men with devastating blue eyes and hairy chins.
Isaac’s eyes dance between mine, his lips unmoving. He doesn’t need to speak to express his questions, though. I can see the concern in his eyes, hear the elongated beat of his heart. He is so clued in on every aspect of his employees’ lives, he knows precisely what occurred this weekend. I just hope his sixth sense is honing in on Luca’s memorial and not the other equally heart-clutching events of the weekend.
“How was it?” Isaac asks a short time later when he sees the remorse in my eyes switch to something else—something I’m striving to ignore every time I catch sight of my reflection.
I’ll never regret a single moment of my time at home, but I do regret not doing it sooner. Even with Danielle’s batshit crazy idea that I’m a heartless wench in need of saving, the past weekend was good for me. I combatted hurt, resentment, and the fear of being unworthy of love all while surrounded by people who actually love me. It makes a lot of sense when you think about it.
“It was . . .good.Not really an ideal setting for a naughty getaway, but it went okay.” A frisky wink chops up the concern in my tone to more manageable pieces.
Isaac laughs, thankfully accepting my jest in good faith. I want to update him on all the juicy and not-so-juicy tidbits of my weekend, but since I’m not eager to add more worry to his plate, I keep quiet.
The more successful Isaac becomes, the more he has needed to stay on his toes. Unless they’re featured onSixty Minutes, people don’t like to hear others’ success stories. Jealousy, suspicion, and even sometimes distrust come into play when people believe someone has succeeded them.
That’s why I was so gung-ho about Alex’s comment on two alphas not able to co-exist unless they’re planning to take each other out. Why can’t there be more than one successful person in a relationship?
Take my friendship with Isaac as an example. I don’t loathe him because he’s rich, handsome, and successful. I want to emulate his achievements. And since Isaac’s views are similar to mine, I’ll achieve them even sooner than anticipated.
Isaac isn’t a greedy man. He shares his wealth and knowledge with those closest to him. It’s the reason we’re standing in a derelict warehouse near midnight. This rundown factory is our first joint business merger. I have a thirty percent stake in Isaac’s latest venture. I am a silent shareholder, but I’m not worried. A man as astute and business-conscious as Isaac would never make a stupid business decision. Furthermore, I drew up our agreement. If anyone is in danger of coming out of our deal a loser, you can be assured it isn’t me.
“When will the refit be finalized?” I ask Isaac, hoping to get our conversation back on track before I crash.
I’m not like Isaac. I usually wake before the sun, pound the pavement for two hours straight, then start my day, which means I’m usually in bed no later than 11 PM. The redeye Alex and I took last night already stole hours of my sleep, much less how many times Alex has occupied my thoughts.
Isaac flashes a brutal grin. “He tried for six weeks, but I scaled him back to three.”
I smile at the ruthlessness in his tone. His builder isn’t lucking out—he just wrongly assumed working for Isaac would be a walk in the park. It won’t take him long to adjust. Isaac will ride you like an inmate serving life, but he pays well if you produce what he needs.
“Alright. I’ll get these documents finalized this week before scheduling acquisitions for the parcels of land on each side of ours.” I roll up the blueprints and hand them to Isaac. “Are you still chasing that bakery a few blocks over? I had a chat with the planning commissioner last week. We may be able to switch the zoning from commercial to industrial, meaning the owner will have no choice but to close up shop, but I wanted to check with you first.”
Isaac’s pause for consideration is shocking. Usually he’s on the ball when it comes to all things business. “Let me speak with Cormack. My plans are for Ravenshoe to prosper, not run businesses out of town.”
