When we returned from our weekend away, Hugo followed Isabelle so closely, he literally became her shadow. Every fake date I went on made Col’s interests in Isabelle slip further away, but not only was Col’s interest slipping, so was Isabelle’s. I nearly lost a three-million-dollar investment when I left a crucially important meeting the instant Hugo told me Isabelle had a man in her apartment. At first, Hugo waited to see if it was just a casual acquaintance popping in for a friendly visit, but as the night went on, it soon became apparent that Isabelle was on a date.
I hadn’t meant to mark her the way I did when I went to her apartment. My anger just got the better of me when Hugo called to say her acquaintance was walking back toward Isabelle’s apartment building. I gathered the love bite would be a clear warning for him to back off, a sign Isabelle was taken. It must have worked, as Isabelle arrived at my nightclub alone not even thirty minutes later.
The following Friday, when Isabelle kissed Ryan in front of me, it took all my self-control not to lash out on Ryan. Ryan knew what he was doing. He was aware I wouldn’t stand by and watch him kiss Isabelle, but what he didn’t know was he was putting Isabelle in an immense amount of danger by forcing my reaction. I had no choice when I left that night to take Tatiana with me. If I had left the restaurant with only Isabelle, it would have attracted Col’s attention, but by taking Tatiana with me, it made it look like Isabelle was a jealous ex, lashing out on my player lifestyle.
My plan to make Col believe Isabelle wasn’t important to me was working, until Hugo lost his tail on Isabelle for an entire night. I knew Col didn’t have Isabelle, as I’d assigned him his own shadow, but my fear that something had happened to Isabelle made me realize my feelings for her were stronger than I’d initially comprehended.
Pure unbridled and uncontainable rage, that was what I felt when I heard a male voice sound through the phone when Isabelle called Harlow’s bakery at seven the following morning. I’ve never wanted to kill someone as much as I did that day. Instead of taking my anger out on the man I really wanted to, I unleashed it on a boxing bag instead. Several hours later, Isabelle arrived at the old warehouse I started my fighting career at.
Isabelle’s big chocolate eyes are her greatest ally and my greatest weakness. I'm defenseless to them. Peering into her eyes, I believed her when she said she hadn’t had sexual contact with anyone but me in over a year. My unquenchable desire to taste Isabelle again was irrepressible that afternoon. I shouldn’t have taken her to my apartment, but I needed to be sure I was thinking rationally before I fully claimed her as mine. There was something dark and hidden behind Isabelle’s eyes. She was the first person I couldn’t read, and that notion terrified me.
But once I claimed Isabelle, she became solely mine. My house, my rules, my bed. When Isabelle eagerly agreed to keep our relationship a secret, I was pleased. I assumed she went along with my plan because she knew I was aiming to protect her.
The past month has been unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. It has been a hazy blur of lust and confusion. There is no doubt in my mind I loved Ophelia, but I can’t describe my feelings for Isabelle. They are vast, strong, and incomprehensible.
Only now after being arrested by Isabelle, do I realize my assumptions on her have been terribly inaccurate. I don’t know her at all. She is practically a stranger.
Isabelle
“Jeez, do you think there is enough oxygen in the room for both of those personalities to sustain adequate air?”
I stop pacing in the observation chamber attached to the interrogation room and turn my frightened eyes to Brandon. His brows are stitched so tightly, he has a V in his forehead.
Upon noticing my confused gaze, he nudges his head to the interrogation room. When I glance through the two-way mirror, I soon discover what he is mumbling about. Isaac and Alex are standing across from each other, kept apart by the stainless steel table Isaac has been sitting at the past two hours.
Isaac’s handsome face is scoured with anger, but his impressive stature still bounces off him in invisible waves. Alex’s stance is just as strong as Isaac’s. His blue eyes are slitted, and the twitching of his top lip is noticeable from a distance. They are undertaking a testosterone-riddled, gray eyes versus blue eyes intense stare-down, shifting the temperature from pleasant to scorching.
When Brandon fiddles with a set of knobs on the side wall, Isaac’s profound voice rumbles into the observation room, sparking an excited shiver to roll down my spine.
“You have ten minutes to issue me with your findings, or I’ll be walking out the front door of this police department.” Isaac’s voice is fueled with disgust.
“You’ll be lucky to walk out that door in years, let alone minutes,” Alex retorts, his tone arrogant.
Queasiness hits my stomach, my body responding negatively to Alex’s assumption.
Isaac smirks, unaffected by Alex’s threat. The twitch of Alex’s top lip becomes even more prominent when he folds his arms in front of his chest acting unfazed.
Isaac winks before retaking his seat on the steel chair. “Tick tock.” He taps his finger on the platinum Rolex watch encircling his wrist.
Alex’s nostrils flare as the spasm on his lip moves to his shoulder. “I strongly suggest you take my advice and call a lawyer, Mr. Holt.”
“I was once told only people with something to hide need a lawyer,” Isaac says before his entrancing eyes flick to the side of the room.
My breath hitches halfway to my lungs. He appears to be staring right at me.
“I thought this was a two-way mirror?” My voice quivers from Isaac’s infuriating gaze being directed straight at me.
“It is,” Brandon mumbles.
Through trembling thighs, I move to the furthest corner of the room. My heart rate triples when Isaac’s eyes trek me. Even the tense circumstances of my day can’t stop my smile etching onto my mouth. I love that he can sense my presence as strongly as I detect his.
“That’s freaky.” Brandon’s eyes dance between Isaac and me. “What’s the deal with you two—”
Before the entire sentence can escape his lips, we’re interrupted by Alex storming into the room. He stops to clench his hands into balls. The twitch of his top lip is even more noticeable now he is standing close to me.
I swallow harshly, attempting to eradicate the lump trapped in my throat. Alex’s slit gaze lifts from the polished concrete floor to Brandon and me. When his eyes flick to the open two-way mirror, he storms over and adjusts the perception of the window until it’s blacked out and Isaac is no longer visible.
While pivoting back around, he declares, “Brandon, I need that envelope—”
