Shockingly, Isaac lets me go.
22
Isabelle
Friends can become strangers too.
Two weeks later, I’m being wired up for a one-on-one interview with Kirill by Brandon, of all people. Isaac’s bend in the rules hasn’t come cheaply. His sexual proficiencies have always been outstanding, but they excelled to never-before-reached levels the past two weeks.
Instead of punishing me for being disobedient, Isaac took it out on my body, the object usually responsible for my submissiveness. He fucked me hard—multiple times. His determination to break me revealed I’ve grown stronger in some ways and weaker in others.
Physically, I’m at a summit I’ve never reached before, but the weaker side of me—the emotional part that can’t separate work from my personal life—is dragging down its tougher counterpart.
Like many law enforcement officers’ spouses, Isaac is struggling with the concept that I can be both a wife and a law enforcer. He’s always been protective of me, sometimes to the point where it’s suffocating.
It hurts that he doesn’t trust my ability to protect myself, even though I also understand. It’s his instinct to protect those he cares about. I love him for that, but my god, it’s exhausting. It robs me of the ability to think for myself and to make clear, confident decisions.
I’m so exhausted, I’ve placed Brandon’s snappy attitude on the backburner the past two hours. I thought he was frustrated because he’s also concerned I’m putting myself in Kirill’s radar, but the number of times he’s sneered at me while glancing down at my wedding ring exposes that isn’t the case. His features are as hard as Isaac’s were when I said we had to delay publicly announcing our wedding until after I’ve met with Kirill. My muscles ached for days after that confession.
“Have you been hanging out with the Rogers too long? Do you need an emergency crotch transplant?” I anticipate getting at least a smirk for my witty comment, but I get nothing close to that. “What’s the go, Brandon? You’ve changed so much, I feel like I don’t know you anymore.”
“You have to know someone before you can fake an interest in a change in their personality.” He finishes fiddling with a button camera on my blouse before checking with a second agent if it’s receiving a signal, acting as if his murmured comment didn’t slice through the thin thread holding me together.
“I know you…” My words trail off when I realize my error. “Iknewyou. Once.”
Brandon’s laugh is vindictive and underhanded—nothing like the man I once knew. “You’re so blinded by the narcissistic asshole you married, you wouldn’t know an honest, reliable person if they were standing right in front of you.” His words sting more than any slap ever could. They bruise my ego and flush my face with anger, but they won’t stop me from retaliating.
“The man I love isn’t close to the person you’re portraying.” Although my words are only whispered roars, they still gain us the eyes of the agents surrounding us.
“Excessive need for admiration. Disregard for others’ feelings, incapable of handling criticism, and a sense of entitlement.” Brandon ticks off each item with his fingers. “If Isaac Holt isn’t a narcissist, you’re not just the bimbo Alex brought in to net Isaac, youarea bimbo.”
It’s the fight of my life not to slap him across the face. The only reason I don’t is because I guarantee my hand wouldn’t be the only one his face would feel today. Alex is glaring at him as fiercely as Isaac does any time they’re in the same room.
If rumors are true, the fistfight Grayson and Alex got into two weeks ago wasn’t just from Grayson’s failure to advise Alex Enrique had been an informant for the Bureau the past six years. It was also from requesting Brandon to join his division, citing his computer skills as the reason for overturning Alex’s recommendation for Brandon to be discharged from the Bureau.
Obviously, the last few months have been tough on Brandon, but not all the burden should be placed on my shoulders. Some of it belongs on his.
“You have no right to act all high and mighty. You defended the man who raped your high school sweetheart all to save your family’s prestigious reputation.” I articulate my last two words with a sneer Clara would be proud of.
“I did that for Melody.”
I roll my eyes, my immaturity feeding off my tiredness. “Oh, please. You were a key witness for the defense—”
“Because it was the only way I could get on the stand! It was the only way I could support Melody!” His roar startles my heart out of my chest, but not as much as what he says next. “Why do you think she prosecuted Madden after all this time? Do you think she woke up a decade later with the sudden urge to seek justice?Ihelped her get there.Isupported her through it. Just likeIlost my family during the process. But you wouldn’t know that, would you, Izzy? Because you’re so fucking blind to anyone who isn’t Isaac Holt, you can’t see two feet in front of you.”
I try to speak, to deny his claims, but I can’t. Everything he said is true. I am blinded by Isaac. When he’s in my presence, time stands still. Minutes could be hours, and I wouldn’t know because time doesn’t exist when we’re together. It’s just him and me.
But, in saying that, Isaac doesn’t deserve Brandon’s anger. If he’s angry I fell in love with someone who isn’t him, that’s an issue he needs to work through.
When I say that to Brandon, his laugh is the cruelest I’ve heard. “Of course, the blame for Isaac’s neurotic, narcissistic tenancies would have to be reflected at me because, god forbid, the wonder that is Isaac Holt wouldn’t have any idiosyncrasies that couldn’t be palmed off to an unsuspecting target.”
Over Brandon and his ridiculous argument, I turn my eyes to the technician pretending not to eavesdrop on our confrontation. “Are we done?”
“Ah… umm… yes.” He fumbles out a string of other words that follow a similar agreeing pattern.
“Good, because I’m done with this conversation… and so-called friendship.” I return my eyes to Brandon. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me and that you had me on some sort of pedestal I never belonged on, but I will not stand by and listen to you disrespect my husband. I love Isaac. He’s been nothing but honest, protective, and supportive of me from day one. Without him, I wouldn’t be half the woman I am now.”
Sparks of the old Brandon I once knew shine in his eyes when he stops my dramatic exit by grabbing my wrist. His hold isn’t painful. It’s so gentle, I’m ill-prepared for the scorn of his words when he says, “He does protect and support you, but he isnotbeing honest.” My second eye roll stops halfway when he says, “If he is, you’ll have no trouble answering my next question.”
