With my mood on edge, I secure a bottle of water out of the almost empty refrigerator before gathering my cell phone off the entryway table. It’s arrogant of me to admit I smile at the lack of notifications on the screen of Isabelle’s phone, so I’ll keep it to myself. I get an immense amount of pleasure knowing no one is blowing up her phone at all hours of the night because, more times than not, a dream you achieve alone eventually returns to a dream, but a dream you achieve with someone else forever remains a reality.
I’d rather Isabelle’s reality be with me than a man Hunter hasn’t disclosed because her files are hidden more deeply than mine. I don’t like competition. If I did, Ravenshoe would be in New York, and I’d be giving Henry a run for his money. Alas, I value his support more than the funds in my bank account.
While smirking about my friendship with America’s number one gangster, I hit a frequently called number on my cell phone. I have the cap removed from my bottle of water and dumped into the bin in the kitchen before Hunter answers my call. Lately, his delay isn’t surprising, but compared to six months ago, it most certainly is. He’s dropping the ball, and my annoyance about that is heard in my snapped tone. “How far have you gotten with my search?”
I went to bed hours earlier than usual, so I woke a little before four. I tried to relish the fact a woman was sleeping in my bed I hadn’t slept with, but not only was the foreignness too much for me to act insouciant about, the scent of alcohol leeching from Isabelle’s pores also made my jaw tick as furiously as the veins feeding my cock. She had two opposing smells. One begged to be ravished, whereas the other was an unambiguous indicator that she didn’t want to be touched.
Since I refuse to bed an intoxicated woman, I slipped out of bed and called Hunter, eager to commence a search on the man who appeared to care for Isabelle but had no interest in ensuring her safety was met last night.
“You called at four in the morning, Isaac.”
“And?” I interrupt, my tone stern. “Isn’t that what I pay you for?”
“And…” Hunter’s delay speaks volumes. He’s cursing me to hell. “The shitty ass facial scanning software I’ve requested for you to update onmanyoccasions takeshoursto finalize.” The grinding of my teeth halves the mirth in his tone. “Once I have something, I’ll bring it straight to you.”
He can’t see me, but I dip my chin, my jaw too tight with annoyance to form words. I understand he’s undeserving of all my wrath, but I’m not a man who hides his annoyance when he’s left out of the loop, especially if it has the possibility to affect my empire, the very thing I use to keep my family safe.
After working my jaw side to side, I say, “Forward me the details for a better system.” Ravenshoe PD isn’t branched under my entity, but the residents it protects most certainly are. “I’ll organize procurement before Christmas.”
“All right.” I stop pulling my phone down from my ear when Hunter calls my name. “Boss…”
I squash my phone back against my ear. “Yes.”
The scrubbing of a hand across a bristly chin sounds down the line before Hunter’s reserved tone. “If you have an hour or two this morning, there’s a couple of things I need to show you.”
Predictably, my stomach steers me toward Nick, but another organ in my body speaks before my intuition can. “Isabelle?”
“Yes.” One-worded replies shouldn’t be so telling. That isn’t the case with Hunter. He isn’t a man of many words, so for him to request a private sit down means whatever he’s unearthed about Isabelle is substantial.
After checking my watch, I reply, “I should have things wrapped up here within the next hour or two. Will that suit?”
My jaw tightens to the point of cracking when Hunter’s attemptto stifle his chuckle fails. He’s acting as if his livelihood isn’t on the line. I’m not close to reaching the same conclusion. “If you need pointers, boss, my door is always open.”
Bedroom proficiencies are an ongoing joke between us, but I’m not laughing. “Isabelle was intoxicated.” Usually, I refuse to answer to my staff. I don’t know why I went off-script today. Perhaps it is tiredness, or it could quite possibly be that I’m at a point I can no longer deny the peculiar sensation that’s been bombarding me the past several weeks. My focus rarely shifts from my empire. However, it’s been far from my thoughts the past month. The number of times Isabelle has popped into my mind isn’t close to kosher. Fortunately for me, my empire is a well-oiled ship. She won’t falter no matter how astray I allow things to become.
“I know. Hugo told me all about it,” Hunter fires back, still chuckling. “But that was last night. What’s your excuse this morning?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer. “It’s probably those ugly-ass sleeping pants Catherine gifted you last Christmas.”
A normal man would be confused by his comment, certain there’s no way he could know what I’m wearing. A man as prolific as me isn’t offered the same leeway. I have to be on the ball in all aspects of my life, both personal and business. It isn’t just my enemies being scrutinized, so am I.
“Hunter?”
He settles his chuckles before replying, “Yes, boss.”
“Shut down all surveillance in the building, then commence a trace to ensure no one is piggybacking off our servers.” Hugo lost the FBI’s tail last night, but as far as the Bureau is aware, my penthouse is myonlyresidence, so I have no doubt the blue surveillance van is already parked in its regular haunt.
Hunter groans, hating that his attempt to rile me made more work for himself. He’s my head of security, and since this is coming straight from me, he can’t palm it off to anyone else.
The reminder has me adding more tasks to his plate. Perhaps if I keep him occupied, he won’t need to scare away his neighbor with a bevy of busty women. His inability to separate his work life from his private life should do it on his behalf. I’ve seen many men in my industry taken down that way.
“Then, once you’ve done that, organize for Hugo to come and collect me. He left his car at the nightclub last night.”
Hunter murmurs out an agreeing hum. “Anything else?”
With his voice still having a touch of amusement to it, I bring out a side of me I don’t generally utilize. “One last thing.” I wait until his breaths reveal he’s on the verge of begging before muttering, “Ask Catherine to halve my Christmas card order this year. I see a handful of names being stricken from the list.”
Since the only satisfying thing I’ve sampled the last six weeks is the scent of Isabelle’s shampoo streaming into my nostrils, Hunter’s disgruntled gasp is more satisfying than it should be. My salaries are already above that of my competitors, but I up the ante every year by awarding critical members of my team elusive tiered bonus checks. Hunter and Hugo’s names are usually at the top of the list. I don’t see that being the case if the unease in my stomach is anything to go by. They’re keeping things from me, and although they’ve stated it is for my benefit, I’d prefer to contribute to a solution than be left in the open, vulnerable for an attack.
“Perhaps you’ll change your mind when we share what we’ve found.”
