“I’ll help Roger place the day’s takings into the safe before locking up,” I advise while removing a set of keys from Travis’s hand.
Travis looks more than happy to leave, but something stops him from racing to the door. I’m reasonably confident it is the glaring stare Tina is hitting him with but can’t one hundred percent attest to that. “Are you sure you don’t want me to wait, boss? There are a few stragglers out front unwilling to go home.”
Over people’s disbelief I can’t handle myself in a dangerous situation, I jerk up my chin. “As long as they stay on the other side of the door, I have no issues with them.”
It’s wrong for me to admit I hope they test the boundaries tonight, so I won’t. Although I have excess energy to burn, there are many other ways I can dispel it that don’t include my fists, and for once, that scenario doesn’t involve becoming lost in a busty blonde either. I’m genuinely too disappointed to place that suggestion on the table, which is almost as foreign as my veins only housing the nip of whiskey I enjoyed before Tina interrupted me.
My twist away from Travis and Tina stumbles halfway when the closing of my wallet is thwarted by several foil-coated discs stuffed in the middle. I laughed this morning while preparing for my day. I have condoms in the drawer in my desk, in the glove compartment of my car, and scattered throughout my penthouse, so I’ve never felt the need to place one in my wallet. But what I said to Isabelle was true—men only pack condoms with the intent to use them the day they put them in their wallets, hence, my overzealous presumption I’d need more than one tonight.
Sadly, the only people being entertained this evening are Tina and Travis when I dump the four condoms into the bin under the bar before stalking to my office. My walk is arrogant, fueled by my absurdity that I was ready to move on.
Letting my guard down has always spelled disaster for me. I was just praying Isabelle would prove me wrong this time around. My hopes wouldn’t have gotten up if I hadn’t let my shield down, but I thought I had finally reached a stage in my life where I could trust a stranger without it doing me any harm.
Isabelle’s ghosting tonight proves I haven’t.
I can push for success. I have the drive and tenaciousness to turn a thousand dollars into a million, but there is one thing I still struggle to grasp—that some people are meant to be alone.
Not everyone gets to look into someone’s eyes and see their happy ending. Ophelia wasn’t given the opportunity, so why am I expecting any better? I want to say because the glint in Isabelle’s eyes when she peered up at me for the first time opened my heart to the possibility of a new beginning, but that would be a lie. I wanted to be selfish for just a minute. To pretend my personal life is as important as my business endeavors. I wanted to forget the hang-ups of my life for merely a moment, and for the briefest second Isabelle’s eyes locked with mine, that occurred. She saw me, a mere man, not the enigma everyone else sees. So, if I were honest as I pride myself on being, I’d admit her rejection makes sense.
My eyes say more than my mouth ever will, and the words they speak aren’t close to being pretty because rarely is honesty seen as an asset. Only people raised by lies like me understand the importance of telling the truth, and even then, they still veer toward the easy route, unaware there’s no easy route for what truly matters.
Life is hard. You just have to be tougher than it. Although Isabelle’s rejection fortified the rod in my back, it also reminded me that you never stop learning. Tonight’s lesson was brutal, but those who have triumphed without hardship don’t deserve a single second of recognition. I’ve worked for everything I have, and I will continue working for it, even if I must go it alone.
Roger’s eyes lift to mine when I enter my office. “Quite the good profit margin this weekend. Investors will be pleased.” His tone makes it seem like their response won’t be close to positive.
Roger has been with me for years. His demeanor is a little on the salty side, and he rarely smiles, but he’s been with me long enough to understand the ebbs and flows of my empire, and perhaps even me. He barely looks my way, but the brief length of his stare is all that’s needed to know the cause of the low hang of my shoulders.
“Personal endeavors are just like success, Isaac. You don’t dream about it. You make it happen.” He squeezes my shoulder, plucks the keys from my hands as I did from Travis only moments ago, then heads for the door. “I’ll lock up while you call Hunter.” I’m shocked when he twists back around to face me. He’s almost smiling.Almost.“From the gleam his eyes have had the past couple of days, I doubt he’s sleeping.”
Stealing my chance to agree with him, he exits my office. My unusual behavior the past couple of days isn’t the only change-up I’ve noticed. Hunter has been a little starry-eyed as well. That’s rare for a man as guarded as him, although nowhere near as foreign as me keeping Isabelle off his radar.
Usually, a background search is the first thing I instruct Hunter to undertake when I’m approached by a new person—both in business and private. I dated Ophelia for months but was unaware she was the daughter of a mobster until the day of her death. Would it have changed how I felt about her? I’m cynical. You can’t pick your family but sharing the same blood with someone doesn’t automatically make them family. Love, loyalty, and respect run way deeper than blood, and if Isabelle wants to be a part of that, she will now have to come to me, which she does not even five minutes later.
She doesn’t race for the front entrance Roger is in the process of bolting to spurt out an excuse as to why she’s seven hours late for our prearranged meet-up, nor does she return my gawk. She merely stares at the arched window in my office as fascinated by its unique design as I am her beautiful face.
She’s sweating, wearing gym clothes that showcase her appetizing curves. Her hair is pulled off her face in a high ponytail, and wireless EarPods are stuck in her ears. The faintest gray coloring under her eyes reveals her sleep has been as lackluster as mine the past six days, and the fact she’s running before dawn exposes pounding the pavement is the only adrenaline-shredding activity she’sundertaking right now.
The thought shouldn’t please me as much as it does, especially considering she left me high and dry tonight, but it does—very much so. Now I just need her to live up to the sparkle in her eyes when she peers at the proprietor’s name above the back entrance door.
It’s clear she is interested, but something is holding her back.I want to say it’s because she’s afraid I’ll wholly consume her long before I’ve had my fill, but it feels more than that. There’s something more significant at play here. I just can’t fathom what it is, and the opportunity to dig deeper is lost when Isabelle releases a heavy sigh, pumps up the volume on her iPhone, stuffs it into the pocket of her stretchy pants, then sprints down the blackened alleyway.
My rationally inclined head demands my feet to remain planted on the floor, but my intuition has them racing for the exit before a single cognitive thought passes through my head. I’m not a man who leaves things to chance. I’ve fought for everything I have, and although Isabelle isn’t mine, that will never be the case if I’m not willing to occasionally throw caution to the wind.
Snubbing Roger’s shout asking if I am okay, I break into the alleyway Isabelle sprinted down. Unlike the front of my establishment, the back entrance of the Dungeon isn’t as well lit. It’s dark and dingy, and there’s an odd smell in the air. It has me recalling how Ravenshoe was once viewed. I was called a fool for wanting to see it prosper. Investors accused me of siphoning their money down the drain. Several cut ties with me early in the game, preferring to endure a loss than the rollercoaster that comes from building a metropolis on swampland.
I bet they’re regretting their decision to jump ship early. Ravenshoe still has a long way to go, but we have advanced hospitals filled with the best medical personnel money can buy, one-of-a-kind infrastructures, and a schooling system that rivals Finland. Billions of dollars have been pumped into Ravenshoe, and it shows. It’s the highest growing region on this side of the country, and the asking price on every residence sold the past two years reflects this. I’m proud of the community I’ve created, but once again, it would be nice to share it with someone who appreciates it as much as I do.
When I reach the end of the alley, I shift my eyes to the right before dragging them to the left. Even the early hour doesn’t weaken the number of commuters dotting the sidewalks and street. The bigger Ravenshoe became, the more gridlock developed. It’s annoying but tell me one success story that hasn’t had a few provocations?
“Boss…” Roger stops talking to suck in much-needed breaths. He prefers tailing perps in cars. I doubt he’s done an on-foot pursuit since his days in the force. “Who are you chasing?” His gun is in his hand, and his brows are crinkled. “I locked the safe, didn’t I?”
I curse under my breath. It’s unusual for me to do. Exerting control in difficult situations is all I know. “I’m not chasing a perp. There was a woman in the alleyway.” I stop, loathing the inept fool I’m portraying.
My incompetency is pushed away for the second time tonight when Roger asks, “Around five-six? Dark, thick hair? Real pretty face?”
I nod, too stunned to talk. “You saw her?” That shouldn’t be possible. Roger was locking up the front. You can’t see through the window in my office. I’m a man who appreciates privacy, so the first thing I implement in any premise I build is an area I can recluse to for reflection.
“Not tonight.” He sucks in another much-needed breath while peering at his watch. “But I’ve spotted her the previous five days around this time.”
