I was a little grabby when she riled me before leaving for work this morning. Isabelle loves to be dominated, and a touch of pain is very much a requirement for her during the sex marathons she goads out of me a minimum of once a day. She is insatiable for sex, and I love pleasing her as much as I relish accepting the power she willingly hands me at the start of each exchange.
Even with Callie’s impending auction finally being slated for this weekend and my empire taking a slight dip in profits from me stepping back from the helm to focus on my private life, it’s been a stellar month. There’s only one thing that can improve it, which could very well occur now when I notice three dots trickling across my phone’s screen. Isabelle is typing a message, and I’m waiting with bated breath to discover what more she needs to add to her previous message.
I’m left somewhat disappointed when her text isn’t as hoped.
Isabelle:I’ll bring dessert home tonight.
My cock twitches while punching out my reply, but my heart rate slips off a cliff.
Me:You are dessert, Isabelle.
Don’t misconstrue. My hands are itching to caress, explore, and fondle every inch of Isabelle, and my heart skips a beat every time she speaks about my private abode as ‘home,’ but they’re not the words I’ve been anticipating to spill from her mouth the past couple of weeks.
Ophelia and I dated for six months. It took that long for her to express the words I’m desperate to hear spill from Isabelle’s pouty lips, so the fact I’m anticipating them so early into our relationship shows how fool-hearted she makes me. It can’t be helped. Our relationship is different. It’s exciting, blistering, comforting, yet so unexplainable. If I were asked to rationalize it in layman’s terms, I’d be staring at a blank page on the screen.
My feelings for Isabelle are indescribable, and at times, frustrating. She weakens me, but up until the day Callie’s auction progresses, I don’t necessarily see that as a bad thing. I became cold and withdrawn after Ophelia’s death. I was living, but it wasn’t a good life by any means.
I can’t say the same thing about the past four weeks.
The wealth propping up my empire as I strive for the same level of success in my personal life is staggering. My family is happy and healthy—including my mother, who is so deeply involved in getting her foundation off the ground, she hasn’t had time for Jared—and although Isabelle didn’t come to the plate with the three little words I’m desperate for her to speak today, I’m sure they’re not too far off.
I’m struggling to keep myself in check, so a woman with far less patience doesn’t stand a chance.
With the smirk of a smug man, I get my head back into the game for hours of work on what I once thanked for keeping my veins thick with adrenaline. Now, only one woman gets that credit.
“I forwarded signed approvals for the nightclub in Vegas to you this morning.”
While Regan checks her emails, I pull open my nightclub’s back entrance door and step inside. My strides are as off as my mood this morning. It could be that development contracts for a nightclub outside of my jurisdiction have me running late for my appointment with Nick, but it feels like more than that. There’s a ghastly feeling in the air, and it has me unsure how to process things.
I initially purchased the club in Vegas to keep unwanted eyes off me while visiting Callie in the hospital weeks ago, but after a meeting with a consultant on that side of the country and numerous back-and-forth talks with the man who guides Nikolai as much as he stops him from making erroneous mistakes, the potential was too good to ignore.
I’m not getting into business with the Popovs. I’m merely convincing them that Callie’s purchase won’t be our only business adventure, even though that is my intention.
“The construction team is asking for a ten percent deposit. I shaved them down to five on the agreement the remainder of the construction fee will be paid once foundations are laid.”
“Sounds reasonable,” Regan replies.
Anything she says further is drowned out from Tina’s abrupt arrival. She’s gasping for breath and looks on the verge of crying. She’s been a little theatrical with her responses of late. She knows something has changed for me, and she wants to know exactly what. But today, her concern appears genuine.
“Regan, I’ll call you back.” I wait for her to murmur in agreement before disconnecting our call and housing my cell into my suit’s breast pocket. “What is it?” I ask Tina.
One word, and I’m instantly on high alert. “Nick.” She thrusts her hand to the dance floor halfway between the entrance of my nightclub and my office.
Nick is in a confrontation with one of the many women my security team has been monitoring the past couple of months. Hunter assures me they’re nothing more than overzealous groupies, but I’m not so sure about this one when Nick mutters, “You need to leave me the fuck alone. This shit isn’t funny.”
While racing his way, I signal for Travis to follow me. I have no issues kicking out abusive patrons, but this is different. Nick’s fan is a woman, and as much as her crazy eyes have me on edge, I cannot physically harm a woman. It isn’t something I will ever do.
A mere second before we reach them, the woman’s face switches from nice to nasty in zero point one seconds. “You said you loved me! You told me you wanted me to have your baby!”
My teeth grit when she lunges for Nick quicker than Travis can move. She drags her nails down one side of his face. Before she can inflict more damage, Travis wraps his arm around her waist and flings her away from Nick.
“Let me go,” she screams at the top of her lungs. “He is my love. My one true love. You can’t keep him from me.” She thrashes and kicks against Travis, but since she is barely one-fifth his size, nothing she does impedes his efforts to walk her outside.
Once they’re out of sight, I shift on my feet to face Nick. His cheek is bleeding, but it has nothing on the unease that has settled deeply into his baby blues. “Who the fuck was that?” I ask, certain I’ve not been given the full story of this woman’s demeanor.
No one with their sanity in check lashes out like that. It was beyond fame and fandom. She is clearly unhinged.
Before Nick can answer me, Tina butts in, “A psychopath.”
