I can feel Hunter’s arrogance from where I’m standing. “Hook, line, and sinker.”
“Good.” My heart rate climbs as my expectations soar. We laid a trap, and the Popovs just walked straight into it. “Keep a close eye on Enrique. If he steps foot back in Ravenshoe, I want to know before anyone else.”
I see Hunter’s acknowledgment more than I hear it. It has me pivoting around remarkably fast. “Any word on Brandon?”
A scratching noise resonates down the line. Most likely, it’s Hunter scratching at his thick beard. “Excluding a six-hour nap at a hotel in town last night, he didn’t leave Ravenshoe PD.”
I shouldn’t smirk like a conceited prick, but I do. I get great pleasure from Brandon’s loneliness.
“Okay, good. Same goes for him as Enrique. I know you’re in New York, but I need your eyes in Ravenshoe. It could be a coincidence a Russian entity is attempting to get a stronghold on Hopeton mere weeks after Enrique’s visit, but I don’t want to take any chances. I ran one mob stronghold out of my town years ago. I won’t hesitate doing it again.”
“I’ve got your bases covered, boss. You have nothing to worry about.”
Certain he does, I disconnect our call before joining my family for an impromptu picnic under the low-hanging summer sun.
12
Isaac
A whisper can be more powerful than a thousand words.
Several hours later, I tuck an exhausted Callie into the double bed in her room. Her hair looks extra dark against the crisp white sheets, and the pillows are almost as big as her. With her hands stuffed under her cheek and her bunny nestled under her chin, she strays her drooping eyes to me.
When I run the back of my index finger down her nose, her eyelids droop even more. After another two runs, her eyes slowly taper close, and her breathing shallows.
“Goodnight, Callie Cat.”
I make my way to the door to switch off the light. Just before I exit her room, leaving her door partially opened as she likes, Callie whispers, “Goodnight, Daddy.”
A tangle of emotions hold me hostage for the next several minutes. I knew from the moment I peered at her big chocolate eyes in the passport photographs I had her handlers in Vegas take, she’d have the ability to expose the real Isaac Holt, the one I hide from the men determined to decimate me. Now I know without a doubt my suspicions were true.
There’s no fear associated with my knowledge. If anything, I feel more powerful than ever. Family isn’t the people related to you by blood, they’re the people you choose to be a part of your inner circle, the ones who are more important to you than anything, the people you protect no matter the cost—my family.
A new type of emotion freezes me when I enter the main bedroom of our suite. Isabelle is in the bathtub. Her dark locks are held off her neck with an alligator clip, and bubbles are covering almost every inch of her delicate body. Only the smallest curves of her luscious tits are exposed.
When she spots my imprudent stare, she lazily cranks her neck my way. “See something you like?” she asks, her voice drenched with sexual ambiguity.
Winking, I toe off my shoes before tackling the buttons of my dress shirt. A smirk creeps onto my mouth when each button I undo increases the pants of her breath. Our room is already steamy since it’s one of those modern-day suites with a bath in the middle of the room, but she’s made it almost unbearable.
I could never be accused of lacking confidence. I fought for everything I have—my reputation, empire, and the woman who will soon be my wife—however, that wasn’t because I didn’t have a face that moistened ladies’ panties. Before Isabelle came into my life, my drive forever exceeded my need to gloat. That’s why although I deserve the title of billionaire right alongside Cormack, it’s never been publicized.
But here, right now, after listening to the sharp intake of air Isabelle sucked in when my trousers glided down my thighs has me wanting to bang my chest, to declare a victory I’ve yet to claim. I want to gloat to the world the game is over because the king has his queen.
He also has his princess.
With her eyes arrested on mine, Isabelle scoots forward so I can slot into the tub behind her. The warm water is welcoming to the muscles I plan to exert tonight. It also unravels the veins twisted around my heart, freeing me to say, “Callie called me Daddy,” without an ounce of hesitation.
“Really?” Water sloshes over the rim of the bath when Isabelle flips onto her stomach to face me. The jealousy I was anticipating to see in her eyes is nowhere to be found. She appears happy, perhaps even smitten.
I run my thumb across her cheeks, catching the tears that have yet to fall from her eyes. “You’re not mad… or jealous?”
“No, Isaac. Never.” Isabelle gives it a good fight to hold in her tears before saying, “I agonized for months in the lead up to my tenth birthday party on how I could ask Tobias to be my dad. I wanted to be like the other kids in my grade, to say I had a parent, even if it was only one.” The moisture pooling in her eyes is almost squeezed out by her cheeks rising into a smile. “I also really loved him, and I would have been honored to call him my father.”
Now her lack of jealousy makes sense. I don’t feel a smidge of annoyance about her declaration of love of her uncle, so why would she be upset about my bond with Callie?
“Did you ever build up the courage to ask?”
Isabelle’s smile sags a mere second before she shakes her head. “The ‘No. 1 Dad’ mug I bought one Father’s Day with the nickelsDedushkaleft around the house still sits wrapped in the bottom of my closet. I wanted to place it in his coffin when he passed, but I didn’t want him to know how silly I had been.”
