“Fuck, Isabelle,” Isaac roars as spurts of salty cum pumps onto my tongue.
I drink it all in, swallowing eagerly, loving the taste of him in my mouth. Greedily, I milk his cock with my hand, relentlessly pumping his stiffened shaft until every last drop of his seed is expelled into my mouth.
After licking my lips to gather any spilled cum, I crawl up his body to rest my head on his glistening torso. His heart is thrashing wildly as he comes down from his brutal climax. My lips curve into a triumphant grin, glad I'm capable of rendering him mindless while also lessening his agitation.
After some time, his heart rate returns to a safe level. He runs his hand down my hair, smoothing the damp, frazzled pieces back into place. Feeling the safest I’ve ever felt snuggled on his chest, my mouth starts spilling secrets I’ve never shared with anyone before.
"My Uncle who raised me isn't really my Uncle.” My heavy breaths rebound off Isaac's chest. He stiffens at my comment but remains quiet. “I was sold to him when I was six years old.”
Isaac’s grip on my hip tightens so much, it sends pain shooting through my hipbone.
“My father hated me so much he didn’t care who bought me. He just had one stringent requirement: whoever was the highest bidder had to pay for me in cash.”
Isaac’s teeth grinding together shrills through my eardrums. Lifting my head off his chest, I prop myself on my elbow so I can look into his beautiful eyes. “My Uncle was a good man, Isaac. He saved me from a life of misery. If it wasn’t for him, who knows where I would have ended up.”
His Adam’s apple bobs up and down. “Did he. . .” He doesn’t need to finish his question; the terrified look in his eyes is questioning enough.
“No, Isaac. God, no. He was not that type of man. He never touched me like that, I promise.”
Isaac expels a quick exhalation of air.
"He treated me as if I were his daughter. I'll be forever grateful for the day he came into my life.” Before I can chicken out, I blurt, “My father is Vladimir Popov.”
When Isaac’s breathing ceases to exist, I realize he’s heard of my father before.
37
Isabelle
Gripping the marble vanity bowl, I lift my eyes to the large mirror in front of me. My face is white and gaunt, and my pupils have sunken. The dark circles plaguing my eyes make it look like I haven’t slept in over a year, but it isn’t a physical illness afflicting my appearance. It is the muddled mess of confusion in my mind making me feel physically ill.
Being immersed in Isaac’s world the past forty-eight hours made me forget the FBI is investigating him. When I’m with Isaac, I only see him. Everything else is just a blur of white noise, but now that the dreaded Monday morning has arrived, reality has come to painfully bite me on the ass.
After my confession last night, Isaac remained quiet. Even with not seeing his eyes, I knew he was awake. He ran his hand along my arm for nearly an hour before he slipped out of bed and left the room. I considered following after him, but remembering Cormack's advice from weeks ago, I left him alone to contemplate.
Isaac is a very guarded man, so I wanted to give him time to process my confession in privacy. It isn’t every day the woman you're sleeping with acknowledges being the daughter of a well-known mob boss. That type of revelation would rattle even the strongest man.
I’ll be frank, Isaac’s apprehension of my confession last night did make me wary of advising him that I’m an FBI field agent. Although legally I cannot disclose I am a field agent to anyone, morally, it is the right thing to do. My heart wants to be truthful and tell Isaac everything, but my head is telling my heart it is not the rational thing to do.
My heart and head fight continued well into the early hours of this morning. After many hours of silent debating, my head eventually overruled my heart. The reason my head won isn't what you might think. It is because I truly don't believe Isaac is the man his FBI file portrays him to be. So I've made it my mission to ensure Isaac's investigation is run fairly. Once Isaac's investigation is closed, and he's acquitted, I'll make sure his file reflects the true Isaac Holt. I'm confident once he realizes I defended his integrity, he will forgive me for deceiving him.
Government departments can at times be unjust. My own childhood story reflects that. My Uncle Tobias was undercover in the Popov family for nearly five years before I was put up for auction. Once I was old enough to understand, Tobias explained that he initially tried to have the sale canceled legally, but since the FBI didn't believe I was a valuable enough asset for him to break years of cover for, the auction went ahead as originally planned.
My memories of Tobias at the time are vague as I was so young, but the image of his huge smile and roguish face when he’d bring me and my brother groceries will always have a special place in my heart.
My mom was unfortunately addicted to meth. The urge for her next fix was greater than her desire to feed and look after her children. Since my mother graced my father with a son a year after I was born, he arranged for a family member to assist her in raising his children.
Although my Uncle Tobias isn’t related by blood, he was still addressed with the title of Uncle. Any male with a close connection to thefamilywas classed as Uncle, even if he wasn’t blood-related. Uncle Tobias was the man my dad tasked with looking after me and my little brother Enrique. Tobias said I was just shy of my first birthday when he came into my life. He gave me the nickname “Rabbit” because I was nothing but skin and bones. That nickname stuck until the day he passed away.
Since the FBI refused to help, my Uncle Tobias went against their strict protocols. He mortgaged his family home in Tiburon and overdrew every credit card he owned to ensure he had enough cash on hand to buy me. When his bid was successful, Tobias and I left Las Vegas that very same day. Once news of Tobias’s abandonment surfaced through the FBI, he created the ruse that he was in a relationship with my mother the whole time he was undercover and that Vladimir had found out about his indiscretion, meaning he was shunned by the family. The FBI believed his story, and he was soon recruited to a new task force.
With the help of Regina, I was issued with a birth certificate that stated I was the daughter of Tobias’s deceased brother Abraham, who had died three years earlier. For the past nineteen years, I was raised by Tobias and hisDedushka(Grandpa in Russian) in the house Tobias mortgaged to bid for me. To this day, the FBI are none the wiser of my connection to the Popov family.
My gloomy thoughts are interrupted when a heated gaze ignites every nerve in my body. Lifting my eyes, I discover Isaac leaning in the doorjamb of the ensuite bathroom, watching me inquisitively. His enthralling eyes are raking my body.
Happily, my eyes absorb the satisfying visual of Isaac in an impeccably tailored dark blue three-piece suit. His primal gaze has my pulse quickening when he returns his eyes to my face.
“No, Isaac,” I say, shaking my head.
