“Isaac…” The caution in his tone has me wondering if Hugo has joined our conversation.
Unfortunately for Hunter, he hasn’t. “I wasn’t asking. I amtellingyou to do this.” When his sigh sounds more tired than annoyed, I quickly add, “You can remove anything that directly associates with Isabelle. I just want to know the man who raised her.” As my conversation with my father filters in my head, I murmur, “Because as much as we want to believe we aren’t a byproduct of our parents, we are.”
Hunter sounds as disappointed by my statement as me, but before he can announce that, I disconnect our call, house my cell phone into the pocket of my trousers, then join Isabelle in the bathroom, confident a pre-work quickie will suffocate any Monday morning blues I may be suffering.
48
My lips tug at one side while washing my hands in the vanity sink of the attached bathroom in my office. The Dungeon is quiet at this time of the day, so clientele paying exorbitant prices for drinks that cost a nickel to make isn’t the cause of my smirk. It is the scent of Isabelle’s skin intermingled with mine.
When I entered the bathroom of my master suite three hours ago, my intention was a quick, fast fuck that would help suppress the need to caress and explore every inch of Isabelle’s skin during her working day. But like my sharpness when in her presence, my good intentions were left for dust a second after arching her over the tub and raising the hem of her skirt until it was wrapped around her waist like a belt.
I blame Isabelle’s arousing smell for my undoing. When her skin is heated with lust, her erotic scent amplifies. It grips me by the throat, and within seconds of it lingering in my nostrils, all my objectives are voided, and nothing but making her quiver my name is on my mind.
And since I can smell it now on an area of my body twitching to touch and devour every inch of her delectable skin, a nanosecond after entering my office, I snatch my cell phone off my desk and dial a familiar number.
Hugo answers two rings later. “I tried, boss, but you know firsthand how bad Ravenshoe’s traffic is…” His deep chuckle breaks up the rest of his reply. “But in saying that, not even a helicopter would have gotten her there in time. We didn’t leave your place until her shift officially started.”
With an important meeting scheduled in my home office today, I asked Hugo to drive Isabelle to work for me. I didn’t miss the shock on his face when I recited to him my home address. He’s been here. He has just never been invited inside.
“How late was Isabelle?”
I can’t see Hugo, but I imagine him twisting his lips when a murmur sounds down the line. “Not late enough to get fired, but she’ll probably still face scrutiny at some stage today.”
Even more reason for me to advise him as to the reason for my call. “What time does Isabelle have lunch?” My team has been scrutinizing Isabelle for months. They know her every move, but since I’m trying to approach my relationship with her differently than I do my staff, I don’t comb over her movement sheets as often as they land in my inbox.
Intrigue is very much a part of my obsession, so I’ll do anything to keep the mystery alight.
“Around one. Why?”
Happy to leave Hugo on tenterhooks, I smirk like a smug prick while disconnecting our call. The conceitedness puffing out my chest doubles when I send a message to the number Isabelle programmed into my phone last night.
Me:Isabelle, I’ll meet you at Harlow’s bakery at 1 p.m. sharp.
I’m about to add a hint of playfulness members of my empire will never get, but before I can, a message pops up on my screen.
Assuming it is Isabelle accepting my lunch invitation, I open it promptly. I’m left disappointed when I learn the message is from Hunter.
Hunter:Thought you’d want to know.
When I scroll down, it opens on a long-range surveillance image. It isn’t anyone dangerous, nor the man Henry assures isn’t a threat to me or my empire. It’s my mother. She’s greeting a man out in front of one of my restaurants. The same man who she used to break my father’s heart. His best friend, Jared Reece.
If you haven’t worked this out by now, my parents’ divorce was volatile and destructive, and my mother ensured she took down every single person in my father’s inner circle on her way out. I only found out about her affair with Jared during my final year of college. She tried to deny it, but even with her wish to be an actress seeing her attend a world-renowned acting school, she couldn’t pull the wool over my eyes.
With my mood hostile, I stab my phone’s screen with my fingers.
Me:When was this taken?
My phone vibrates with an incoming call instead of a returning text.
After taking a moment to wipe the anguish from my voice, I answer Hunter’s call.
He doesn’t issue a greeting. He gets straight down to business. It is understandable when you realize he hates deceit as much as I do. “Just now. I can patch you into the security cameras on the restaurant floor if you want.”
I stray my eyes to my watch, noting I have forty-five minutes before meeting Isabelle for lunch before replying, “No. It’s time I confronted Jared in person.”
Unlike Hugo, Hunter doesn’t advise me against my decision. He just swallows, advises me he’ll let me know if they leave before I get there, then disconnects our call.
I’m out my office door two seconds after that.
