“Do you truly think you have anything in those folders I haven’t already seen?” Although she’s asking a question, she continues talking, stealing my chance to reply. “I’ve seen it all, Alex.” She growls my name more than pronouncing it. “Your unjust investigation of my client. Your bogus claims of evidence.” Her glassy eyes dance between mine when she mutters, “Your pathetic acting skills.”
Acting skills?
Regan’s seductive scent smacks into me when she places an itemized invoice on my desk. “What’s this?” I pick up the document, noticing the two items on the top are white leather couches. “A money laundering operation? Who in their right mind would pay $15,000 for a couch?”
Regan acts unaffected by my deep snarl, but the flutter in her neck gives away her true composure. She’s struggling just as much as I am to remain civil.
“These are itemsyourdepartment is going to purchase formyclient.”
I dump the paper back on her side of the table. “Why would I buy Isaac Holt new couches?”
She twists her lips to stifle her scream. She shouldn’t bother as her next set of words are more roars than sentences. “You either replace the items you ruined during your unjust search of my client’s property or face prosecution.”
I laugh. It adds to the tension suffocating the air, but considering it was either laugh or yell, I went for what I believed more suitable.
Regan folds her arms under her chest. I really wish she wouldn’t. I’m already having a hard time keeping my eyes on her face, and now she’s made my battle ten times worse.
“You should be counting your lucky stars my client is more of a man than you are. He could press charges for the shambles you left his house in.”
Her first sentence seizes the last shred of my composure and throws it out the window. I’m ropeable—I’m fuming mad—but more than anything, I’m fucking devastated she has once again chosen Isaac over me.
The vein in Regan’s neck works overtime when I stand from my chair. Since she is wearing heels, our heights are even, our eyes locked. “Yourclientis more of a man than me?”
I don’t know why I’m demanding she reiterate her statement. The smug expression on her face reveals she knows I heard what she said, but I want her to spell it out for me, to make sure I don’t miss whose team she’s on.
When she nods, I snarl, “Your client is a criminal! He orders for men to be killed before he sits back in a crystal house, smirking down at the poor fuck’s life he ruined.”
Regan rolls her eyes. “You’re so far left field, you can’t even see the hitter. Isaac hasn’t done anything wrong—”
“You want proof?” I interrupt as anger overtakes my heartache. “I’ll show you fucking proof. You’re so blinded by that man, Rae, you’re walking around with blinders on.”
She steps around my desk so she can poke her finger into my chest. “Don’t call me that! Only my family and friends get to call me Rae.”
I stop seeking the evidence I’m after to grab her hand and yank her forward. My tug is so brutal, her breasts press against my thrusting chest. “I could arrest you for putting your hands on me.”
Regan’s whiskey-scented breath fans my lips when she snarls, “Then step back and let me get in a good hit. At least then your charges won’t be bogus.”
I tell myself time and time again it is the alcohol heating her veins responsible for her comment, but it does little to weaken my anger. She’s only standing before me now because she’s defending Isaac. If the fact this is her first visit to Ravenshoe in over a year isn’t enough of an indication, the protective fire in her eyes seals the deal.
She’s not here for me. She’s here for Isaac.
With that in mind, I release her wrist from my grip and take a step back. “If you want to fight me, Rae, fight me. If you want to hit me, hit me. But don’teveraccuse me of acting when I was with you. I fucking loved you before you lethimtake everything away from me.”
She stands still, seemingly torn on whether to flee or fight. She chooses the former when she turns on her heels and races out the door without so much of a backward glance in my direction.
Seventeen
Regan
While clamping my mouth with my hand, I scream my frustration into the street. I’m confident the music booming out of Isaac’s nightclub will stifle my screams, but I use my hand as a backup just in case.
I knew confronting Alex was a stupid idea; that’s why I tossed down a few glasses of liquid courage before vowing allegiance to the cause. I should have smacked him when he placed the offer on the table, but his confession of love utterly blindsided me.
Why is he still playing the same hand? It’s been twelve months, for crying out loud. He needs to be dealt some new cards.
I guess that’s what I was hoping to achieve by visiting his office this evening. The search his department conducted on Isaac’s property was excessive. They destroyed everything: his furniture, priceless family heirlooms, and paintings that can never be replaced. They left no surface untouched. Why? Because Alex is angry at Isaac for something he didn’t do.
If I had known the consequences of my actions last year, I would have never thrown Isaac under the bus with me. I was a grown woman who had no qualms telling Alex what I did and didn’t like, so why didn’t I portray that woman that night? If I had just told Alex to leave, a lot of this heartache could have been avoided.
