The similarities between his relationship with Isabelle and mine with Alex is shockingly crazy. There’s just one difference: Isaac always pulls Isabelle toward him. I always push Alex away. I wonder how different my relationship with Alex could have been if I had Isaac’s strength. He had a million reasons to walk away from Isabelle, but he stuck it out, and look at them. They’re engaged, living together, and he’s aiming to get her down the aisle as soon as possible. If I hadn’t seen the hard work he put in, I’d be riddled with jealousy. It also has me wondering ifAlex and I could achieve the same results if we put in the same effort?
Realizing I’m backpedaling on hours of deliberating, I get our conversation back on track. “There has to be a way around this, Isaac. We just need to dig deeper.”
He slouches into his chair as his fingers rake his hair. “I’ve tried everything, Regan. I offered Vladimir more money. Suggested I collect Callie instead of having her delivered. Nothing worked.” He lifts his eyes to mine, revealing his desperation. “If you have any ideas, my ears are open. I’m willing to give anything a shot—anything at all.”
My pulse spikes when an idea I hadn’t thought about earlier pops into my head. “Anything?”
Hearing the unease in my tone, Isaac’s brow arches. I can see a million thoughts streaming through his eyes, but he only says one: “You want to bring in Alex?”
Breathing heavily, I nod.
Thirty-Five
Alex
“Are you sure he isn’t yours? He looks a lot like you.”
I scrub my tired eyes. “He’s not my son. I think he’s Regan’s nephew.”
Kristin laughs as if I am an idiot. “Come on, Alex. That’s the oldest trick in the book.” I attempt to interrupt, to tell her Regan wouldn’t lie about something like this, but Kristin continues talking. “Is that her in the photo?”
While absorbing a picture of Regan and a baby who looks remarkedly similar to the one I saw months ago, I nod.
“Was that a yes?” Kristin asks with laughter in her tone.
“Yes.” My tone is nowhere near as joyful.
Christmas was great. Addi and Isla handled this year’s celebration a lot better than they did last year, but my mood is still teetering on an extremely dangerous cliff. I want to pretend all my attitude resides around Isaac and his ability to skirt prosecution for so long, but I’ve never been fond of lying. This anger involves personal matters, not work, and not all of it centers around Regan.
Let me just say, Kristin is easier handled on her home turf, with her own bed, her own walk-in closet, and her own kitchen. I know the past year has been hard on her, but fuck, tossing her mood swings into the numerous high and lows I’m already juggling was a bad idea.
I stop peering at the photo Kristin sent me when the bell above the entrance door of HQ dings. Isabelle slowly makes her way into my office, her strides as soundless as Regan’s contact the past five days. Her steps are so light, she crosses the office floor without a single agent paying her any attention.
When she sneakily opens the top drawer of her desk, I say down the line, “I’ll call you back.”
Stealing Kristin’s chance to reply, I hang up the phone. Feeling the heat of my stare, Isabelle shifts her eyes my way and hesitantly smiles. I don’t smile back. I know why she is here, and I’m not happy about it. Isaac has already snatched one woman away from me; I won’t let him take another.
After snatching a tattered business card out of her desk, she shoves it in her pocket, then saunters my way. I see nerves work up from her stomach to her throat when I gesture for her to close the door behind her.This isn’t a conversation I want overheard.
She does as requested before spinning around to face me. She’s as frozen as a statue, her lungs working as hard as her fists are balled. After gliding her sweaty hands down her jeans, she takes a seat in the chair opposite mine. Following her lead, I also take my seat.
She swallows numerous times when our eyes lock and hold for several long seconds. Once she has built up the courage, she says, “I'm here to advise of my resignation—”
“Shut up, Isabelle.”
Her eyes bulge at the crudeness in my tone. She isn’t the only one shocked, but I’m done playing nice. I thought surrounding her with her uncle’s files that revealed Isaac’s empire was funded in a corrupt, illegal manner would help her see past the mask he wears, that she’d see the real him. If the large diamond on her ring finger is anything to go by, I was horribly mistaken.
When Isabelle attempts to fire an objection, I snarl, “For once, shut up and listen.”
Some of the spark I saw in her when we met ignites when she narrows her eyes at my snapped tone.Good. Bring out the big guns, Isabelle, because you’re going to need them.
“Your resignation from my department has been declined. You signed a contract, and you will fulfill your obligation as stated in that contract.” This time my tone comes out as I intended: calm and without anger.
“You’ll remain on unpaid leave until you've had time to properlyevaluate the situation in full detail. Once you have all thefactsand you’ve had the chance to accurately formulate a final decision on your position within my department—without Isaac influencing you—I'll consider accepting your resignation.”
Finally realizing where my anger stems from, Isabelle covers her engagement ring with her opposite hand. “Isaac isn’t influencing my decisions. I’ve made my own informed choice, but since I’ve agreed to become his wife, I can’t ethically work for the department that is investigating him. It would be highly immoral of me to do so.”
“If you're worried about being immoral, then I highly recommend you remove the blinders you’re wearing and take a step back. You’re letting yourfeelingsfor Isaac blind your judgment. Lust and love are two very different things.”
