Isaac’s fine.
Everything is fucking fine.
Except my heart. It’s stuffed. Broken. Shattered into a million pieces.
“Then why are you upset? I haven’t seen you like this since. . .” His words trail off like they always do when he mentions Luca.
I didn’t know it when we met, but I wasn’t the only one who had suffered the loss of a loved one. Isaac’s grief was even fresher than mine when he blindsided me with a proposal to join his empire. I think his girlfriend’s death was one of the reasons he chose me. I was nothing like Ophelia, yet everything like him. We both suffered heartache at a young age before fighting through our grief to achieve everything we have.
You’d think once Isaac reached the pinnacle of success, the struggle would stop. It hasn’t. It’s grown worse. Envy is a horrible thing. It makes decent men crooks and already bad men even more unhinged. The instant you hit success, prepare yourself for the onslaught. Resentment, greed, bitterness, you’ll face it all. It won’t matter how you achieved your triumph, you’ll never be seen as anything more than a fraud. Someone must have helped you. Someone must have paid your dues on your behalf. They look for any excuse they can find as to why their life doesn’t emulate yours instead of striving for their own greatness.
I thought Alex was above that. He doesn’t have any money—I don’t know a single non-corrupt member of law enforcement who does—but he didn’t seem to care. He has the confidence and charisma that makes people look past the low digits in his bank account, and for what that lacks, his ability to lie without a single bit of hesitation firing in his eyes will take care of the rest.
“I. . . uh. . . discovered something a little concerning when I was away.” I grit my teeth, loathing how weak my voice is. I sound like a whiny baby overdue for a bottle.
Isaac nods but remains quiet, encouraging me to continue. I would like to say it helps, but with my mind as twisted as my gut, I can’t fire any words off my tongue. I feel like an idiot, but instead of being able to hide my shameful face until the storm rolls over, I have to confess my sins to a man who has only ever looked at me with pride in his eyes. This sucks. It’s worse than when I had to explain my final paycheck from Substanz to my father.
I fobbed it off as a weekend gig at a local burger and fries joint, but my father is way too perceptive for that. I swear he nearly had a coronary. His face was as red as mine when it dawned on me that years of hiding never really hid me. Jayce knew where I was. Dwain knew where I was. It was just a rookie FBI agent left in the dark.
“Do you remember that FBI Agent from Substanz?”
“The one who got shot?” Isaac correctly guesses.
I nod. If I hadn’t read the reports on Alex’s injuries in his recently uploaded iCloud file, I would have never believed his kneecap was shattered by a bullet. Only two days ago, he carried me up a flight of stairs before tossing me on a bed without a remote hint of strain crossing his face. At the time, I was so impressed by his stamina, my ego fed off the testosterone pumping out of him. Now, just the thought of what we did that morning makes me sick. I’ve witnessed firsthand the tactics people use to get what they want, but Alex’s ploys were excessive.
My eyes float up from the floor when Isaac cups my cheeks as he did earlier today. None of my tears had fallen, but he had his thumbs at the ready, prepared to catch them if they did. Isaac hates tears, so much so, I faked having a lash in my eye as the reason for the moisture brimming in them. He never found the felonious lash, but his hunt gave me a few seconds to gather my composure.
I begin to prepare my defense when Isaac says, “You discovered what happened to him.” He’s not asking a question, he’s stating a fact. His tone assures I can’t mistake this.
I nod again, causing Isaac to cuss. That’s more surprising than my stupidity the past week. He’s known to drop the occasional F bomb when things don’t go his way, but in his day to day life, he rarely swears. I think it is out of respect for his grandma. . . or perhaps fear? She smacks him up the head if he so much as says “damn.”
A gold cufflink on Isaac’s sleeve blind me when he scrubs his jaw. “I was hoping you wouldn’t find out. It’s not something I want you to take blame for.”
“How can I not accept the blame? I brought him into our lives.”
Isaac vehemently shakes his head. “We’ve discussed this many times the past five years, Regan. Nothing that occurred that night was your fault.”
I endeavor to correct him that I’m no longer referring to the incidence at Substanz, that I mean Alex’s reappearance in our lives, but Isaac’s next set of words steal mine. “I’ve been sending money to his family for years. I know it won’t change anything, but it lessens my guilt—somewhat.”
I take a step back, perplexed. “What family are you talking about?” My voice is the strongest it’s been today. “He doesn’t have a family that needs looking after.”
Isaac’s brows furrow, stunned by the demand in my tone. It isn’t a bad shock. He’s glad I’m emerging from the dark cloud that’s been hovering above my head since I invited him into my apartment over an hour ago.
Air vacates my lungs in a rush when Isaac discloses, “His wife is a strong and proud woman, but their daughters were in the forefront of her mind when she accepted my offer of assistance.”
Have you ever submerged yourself so deeply in your own body, you feel like you’re looking at yourself from the outside in? That’s what I’m feeling right now. I’m here, but I’m not. I can’t breathe. I can’t speak. All I can do is sit back and watch the hurt fester in my stomach until it eventually boils over.
Alex didn’t just deceive me. He lied to his wife—the mother of his children—and at the same time, he forced me to become someone I never wanted to be. He made me the other woman.
“I need to go home.”
“Okay,” Isaac says slowly, surprised by the rapid change in our conversation.
He shadows me into my bedroom, only chuckling with half the energy he used earlier when he took in the sex swing he had installed this afternoon. I roll my eyes before snagging a suitcase out of my walk-in closet and tossing it onto my bed. I can’t believe I finally built up the courage to express my desires without shame, only to have them thrown in my face. I’ve learned my lesson. I won’t let it happen again.
The smug grin on Isaac’s face clears when he stops taking in the woven seat on the sex swing to pivot around to face me. “You’re leaving now?”
Feigning ignorance of the panic in his tone, I nod.
