I try to act nonchalant, like I’m not holding my breath, impatiently waiting for his question. Isaac has revealed so much of himself to me the last seven months, I truly don’t believe there’s a single thing I don’t know about him—except this.
“If Isaac is being honest with you, why are the payments he transfers into Ophelia’s account every month coming out of his offshore account?”
23
Isaac
Trust can be greater than love.
Every inch of my nightclub is covered with surveillance cameras. My bar staff has been replaced with undercover operatives, and my office is full-to-the-brim with FBI agents, yet fear still encroaches me. I can’t believe I ever agreed to this. I’ve forever said Isabelle unhinges my levelheadedness in a way no one ever has. Today is proof of this.
My vehement need to protect her has been running through my veins since the day she bumped into me, but I can’t do thatandsquash her dreams. She was raised by a man who went above and beyond for strangers, and his protect-and-serve impulses were handed down to Isabelle.
She saw something in Katie that scared her enough to jump into action, something I’m certain she would have seen in her reflection if her uncle hadn’t risked his career for her.
As much as this kills me to admit, so did I.
All I could imagine when I looked at the photographs of Katie was Isabelle and Callie, and the possibility of how different their lives would have been if they didn’t come in contact with the men they had. My life was spared because of a medical miracle. Isabelle and Callie’s were by fate.
Although I’d prefer for Isabelle to play it safe, fate has a way of pulling you in a direction you never see coming. More times than not, it’s the right direction. I just need my faith in Isabelle to exceed my fear. That doesn’t mean I need to be fearless. I simply need to break through the cloud formed around me until I find a way out of the panic shrouding my astuteness.
I guess a good starting point is making sure Isabelle isn’t fogged by the same cloud. She also has a way of calming me when things seem to be spiraling.
“I want to speak with Isabelle before she meets with Kirill.”
Grayson pivots around to face me. He was observing a bank of monitors tracking Isabelle’s every movement. They show she’s in the process of being transported here. “Sorry, that’s not possible.”
My reply is more of a growl than actual words. “I wasn’t asking your permission. I’m telling you what’s happening.”
Grayson can’t see what I can see. He can’t see the deep groove burrowed between Isabelle’s brow. That’s a sign she’s upset. It could be because she’s staring down at her empty ring finger, but my intuition is warning me that isn’t the case. She’s distant even with the eyes of over two dozen men on her. There’s only one time I’ve seen her beautiful eyes so hollow. The night she told me Ophelia was alive and had a son who could have been mine.
I store my jacket on the coat rack before spinning around to face Alex, rolling up the sleeves of my business shirt on the way. “Have Isabelle brought in via the back entrance. We’ll meet in the storeroom.”
Even with his brother agreeing to my request with a bob of his chin, Grayson stands to his full height before folding his arms in front of his chest. The arrogant mask slipped over his face is too haughty for my liking. He thinks he’s running the show. I’m tempted to show him he isn’t.
“As I said, that’s not a possibility. You’renotrunning this show, Isaac Holt.”
“You’re in my office, in my club, and that’smy wife, so not only am I going to ensure you don’t fuck this up as you did employing him.” I point my finger at Brandon who has just joined us, doubling the tension in my office. For the first time ever, Alex and I are on the same team. We’re both beyond frustrated by Brandon’s return to Ravenshoe that we’ve been working together the past two weeks to get him out of our town as soon as possible. “I’m going to ensure Isabelle goes into this with a clear head.”
My knuckles popping echo over the quiet encroaching us when Grayson sneers, “Brandon has the right to be here… unlike you.”
“I’m also not the one lying to her.”
Brandon’s words are stern until he’s subjected to my wrath. Then he quivers in his boots like the coward he is. When his eyes stray to Isabelle on the monitor, his game plan becomes exposed.
“What lie did you tell her this time?” My tone warns my next question won’t be asked with words. I’ll use my fists.
My anger boils when Brandon smirks smugly but remains quiet. His silence says more than his words ever will. Even with the intangible string between Isabelle and me being too strong to ever snap, he continues nipping at it, praying for the smallest fray in the sturdy material, even if it puts Isabelle’s life at risk. Brandon doesn’t care for Isabelle. He cares about nobody but himself. His actions today prove this without a doubt. Just as mine will as well.
“Let me guess, you told her about the payments I’m setting up for Ophelia, didn’t you?” Brandon isn’t the only one to gasp in a sharp breath, so do the agents surrounding him. “Did you happen to tell her how I’ll be making the same payments to Theresa, too? Or did you just keep this about Ophelia, so you could hurt Isabelle for the second time?”
Brandon’s eyes reveal every sordid detail. He wouldn’t tell Isabelle any facts that would remind her of a conversation we had many months ago when Jeremiah reached out to me, pleading for me to visit. With Theresa maintaining her ruse that I’m his father, Jeremiah was made a custodian of the state. When his mother was convicted of corruption and a string of minor charges, Theresa’s parents stepped forward to take care of him. They only have the means to support Jeremiah emotionally, not financially.
That’s why Isabelle asked me to step in. I have more money than I could use in four lifetimes, but Isabelle’s heart is by far bigger than any of my bank balances. I’m helping both Jeremiah and BobbyforIsabelle. Bobby’s circumstances aren’t any better than Jeremiah’s. His life is just as bleak, so why shouldn’t he be given the same level of care?
Once I explain my reasoning to Isabelle for the payments commencing at the end of the month, I’m sure she’ll understand my decision to include Bobby. Everything I do and every breath I take is for her, and if the adoration in Isabelle’s eyes is anything to go by when she peers up at the front entrance door of the Dungeon, she knows that.
She’s spotted the proprietor’s name above the door, the business entity I plan to grow bigger than my empire. The Brahn Group is an affiliate of Colt Enterprises, but it only has one owner—Mrs. Isabelle Brahn Holt. She’ll be solely responsible for how she disburses its profits. If she wants to give it all away as Katarina does, I won’t bat an eyelid. It’s her money, so it’s her choice how it is distributed.
