“What are you doing?” I question, confused.
“You found Isaac’s mysterious companion.” He gestures his head to the computer monitor on my desk.
Once Alex accepts the black coffee I brought back for him, my eyes dart to the computer screen. My extensive search has located a match for Hugo. It is a Facebook profile opened seven years ago, but it has been inactive for the past two years.
I skim the information in front of me. Hugo Marshall would now be twenty-eight years old. At the time his account was opened, he was unmarried and had three siblings: Helen, Chase, and Marjorie. He lived in Rochdale, New York, and his employment status shows he was working in security.
“It appears he is just a bodyguard,” he exclaims, rising from my chair and moving around my desk. “I don’t think we need to focus our investigation on Hugo any further. It is time to return our attention back to our original target.”
I nod in understanding, even though my instincts are telling me not to drop this. The death certificate I found earlier was for a Hugo Marshall who died two years ago. At the time of his death, he was twenty-six years old. That is too much of a coincidence for me to disregard.
Now I'm no longer planning just to unearth the mystery of Isaac Holt. I'm also planning on finding out every sordid bit of information I can on the elusive Hugo Marshall.
13
Isabelle
Six Weeks Later. . .
“Isabelle.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I babble under my breath.
My eyes shift down as I suck in air. My heart clenches when I'm met with the piercing gray eyes of Isaac Holt.Shit!
This wasn’t the plan when Harlow and I decided to go out and celebrate. I had no inkling Isaac would be here. We merely chose this restaurant from the rave reviews it received on Yelp. We were unaware this type of establishment books up months in advance. When a handsome blond gentleman eavesdropped on our conversation with the restaurant hostess, he graciously offered for us to be seated with him.
Harlow’s excitement shone out of her when she accepted his invitation with no pause for consideration. To say I was surprised when I followed him to his booth and heard my name roll off Isaac’s tongue would be a major understatement.
“Hi,” I greet him anxiously.
My eyes leisurely glance over Isaac's dark gray dress shirt and black dress pants. Tonight, unlike every other time I've seen him, he is minus his suit jacket and tie. He sports a dark gray business shirt rolled up at the sleeves. The top two buttons are undone, revealing inches of his smooth, muscular chest. He looks ravishingly drool-worthy.
“Hi.” He gives me a casual smirk as he stands from the booth to offer me his hand to shake.
When I accept his gesture, he doesn’t shake my hand; he places a kiss on the edge of my palm. Air sucks from my lungs when his electrifying touch scorches my skin. I yank my hand out of his grasp, skittish from my body’s reaction to his humblest touch.
He smiles at my wary reaction before accepting Harlow’s greeting. He gawks at Harlow peculiarly, seemingly dumbfounded. His lips purse as his eyes wander over Harlow’s body. A rush of nausea churns in my stomach, riddled with panic that they may already be familiar with one another.
“I’m from the bakery,” Harlow informs him when she notices the confused expression on his striking face. Her statement doesn’t ease Isaac’s uncertainty. “The bakery you left your card at for Izzy.”
“Ah. The card that has yet to be utilized.”
When Isaac shakes Harlow’s hand, I exhale, grateful they only know each other in passing.
“Please join us,” the handsome blond gentleman offers, motioning his hand to the booth.
Harlow slides into the spare space next to him, meaning I have no choice but to sit next to Isaac. The instant I slip into the booth, he leans in to take a sizeable whiff of my scent.
“Fuck, you smell good.”
His voice is ruggedly smooth, sending a thrill through my body from the strands of my hair to the tips of my toes.
I try to conceal my smile at his compliment, but my lips curve upwards, giving away my true feelings. This is the first time I’ve seen Isaac since the morning I left his apartment six weeks ago.Oh, well, that's a blatant lie. I haven’t seen him in person since that day would be a more accurate response. He is still under investigation by the FBI, and I’m still required to scan all the tedious, meaningless tasks he gets photographed doing every day into the Bureau’s database. I just haven’t seen him personally.
I probably shouldn’t say tedious, meaningless tasks as I’m sure some people would see multimillion-dollar business takeovers as a riveting experience, but it doesn’t match the impression of what one would expect a suspected mob boss to do every day.
I’ve tried relentlessly to eradicate Isaac from my thoughts the past six weeks. I’ve read every file the FBI has on him to taint my interest in him, but nothing has worked. As unavoidable as the plague, everywhere I go, Isaac is right there in front of me.
