“You don’t know what you are talking about. He left, Hugo. He walked straight out of the house without a backward glance. He left me. So I’m free to dowhateverIplease.”
Whatever orwhomever?
With the determination of the little ninja she is, Izzy squirms out of my grip and stumbles back to her blond dance partner. I count backward to ten, trying to keep a grip on the anger bristling the length of myspine.
Once I have a small sense of rationality, I step in front of Izzy, halting her wobbly steps. “Bullshit, Izzy. You, yourself, had to see if the claims were true, but you don’t expect Isaac to react the same? You are using that guy all because you want to antagonize Isaac. All because you want to force him toreact.”
Her face scrunches as she shakes her head, denying mystatement.
“If it isn’t that, then why are you going to all this effort? What is the purpose? A free drink? A grope on the dance floor? A stupidmidnightkiss?!”
“Yes!” she screams, her loud voice projecting over the blare of music booming out of the speakers. “Because that is probably what he is doing to her right now. He is probably kissing herrightnow!”
“That’s what you want? A kiss? All of this heartache for a pathetic kiss on NewYear’sEve?!”
Anger blackens my blood. I could loseeverythingbecause she wants a stupid midnight kiss. My son, the woman who owns my heart, I could lose them both because she is acting like a selfish little brat who didn’t get every item on her Christmaswishlist.
If she wants a stupid midnight kiss, I’ll give her afuckingkiss.
I snag Izzy’s wrist and pull her back to me. Her nipples pebble when her chest crashes into mine. A surprised gasp escapes her lips and flutters my mouth with a fruity cocktail scent when I press my lips against hers. I feel the quickening of her pulse through her wrist I’m still clasping. I run my tongue along the seam of her lips before plunging it inside her warm and inviting mouth. Weaving my fingers through her hair, I secure her mouth to mine and increase the intensity of our kiss. I kiss the living hell out of her. Not holding anything back. Giving itmyall.
When she pulls away from my embrace, her lust-filled eyes wildly dart between mine. She runs the back of her hand over her red, swollen lips, vainly trying to remove the evidence ofourkiss.
“Isaac is going to kill you,” she mutters as tears well inhereyes.
I smirk and nod. “Yeah, well, at least I know what I'm getting myself into. That dumb fuck had no clue you were in the process of signing his deathcertificate.”
I know Isaac. I know him better than he thinks I do. He won’t let anyone come between him and Izzy. Just like I’m no longer willing to let anyone come between me and myfamily.
Chapter Seventeen
Hugo
IfeelIsaac’s presence before I see him. His anger is so paramount, I feel it all the way in the guest bedroom I’m emerging from. I pull a shirt over my head before rounding the corner of the hallway and entering the main living area. After dumping my duffle bag near the entranceway, I lift my eyes. Isaac is standing in the middle of the sunken living room. He has his back facing me, his fists clenched and hanging at his side. I don’t need to see his face to know he is aware of the kiss Izzy and I shared. I can feel his anger vibrating out of him. I also wouldn’t have expected anything less. Isaac knows everything, especially when it comestoIzzy.
Sensing my presence, he spins on his heels to face me. I take a step backward when I see the despondent look on his stern face. His eyes are darker than I remember and his jaw more set. The veins in his neck thrum as he roams his thinly slit eyes over my face. He looks like he wants to kill me. Rightfully so, heshould.
Exhaling a deep breath, I pace into the living room. My steps are hesitant, weighed down by the guilt my shoulders are carrying. I place the keys to my apartment and Chevelle onto the wrought iron and glass coffee table in the middle of the room. Although mybabywas initially Jorgie’s car, it was nothing but worthless scrap metal before Isaac had it rebuilt, so it belongs to him. My hand slips into the back pocket of my jeans, removing my wallet. Isaac watches my every movement, but doesn’t speak a word. He doesn’t need to. His eyes are relaying his disappointment and anger.Myfiring.
Isaac’s eyes drop to my hands when I remove the first check he gave me in the limousine over five years ago. After everything he did for my family and me, I couldn’t bring myself to cash it, no matter how tempting the figure written down was. After placing the check next to the keys, I dip my chin in farewell and amble to the door, cowardly walking away without saying goodbye since my mouth is refusing to relinquish anywords.
Isaac’s hand shoots out, seizing my arm and stopping my brisk strides. He grips my arm tight enough to display his strength, but not enough to warrant me to react. I wouldn’t react, anyway. I deserve any punishment he wants to dish. His nostrils flare as his eyes burn into mine, searing my soul with their furious heat. Nothing but pain reflects in his uniquely colored eyes. They issue more punishment than any fists or words ever could. My betrayal cut him deep. His eyes are his battle wounds. My brows furrow when he releases me from his grip and strides toward the master suite of my apartment, his steps fast and efficient.I expected a much harsherpunishment.
Once he enters the main bedroom, I slip out the front door of my apartment and walk down the hall, not once looking back on myoldlife.
Hugo Jones isnowdead.
My brows meet my hairline when I step onto the sidewalk of my apartment building and discover Hunter’s Dodge Challenger SRT Hellcat parked at the curb. The passenger window glides down before his scruff-covered face pops intoframe.
“Get in,” he says, his tonerough.
When I slip into the passenger seat, Hunter slams his foot down on the accelerator, showcasing his car’s 707 horsepower motor. After cracking sixty miles in under three seconds, Hunter flicks his eyes between the road and me. Even with a thick beard covering his jaw, I can’t miss the twinge inflicting hisjawline.
When we reach the T intersection at Tivot, his eyes glide to me. “Airport or train station?” he queries through archedbrows.
I smirk and shake my head. “How do you know I’m leaving?”Running.
“Come on, Hugo. Don’t treat me like I’m stupid.” Hunter responds, running his hand along his beard. “You knew he’d bewatching.”
