Although I should be just as cautious, I nudge my head to the passenger side door Hugo is jogging around my car to open for her, giving her one final chance to learn about the real Isaac Holt. The man, not the enigma.
The furious pounding of my heart weakens a smidge when my slide into the driver’s seat occurs with Isabelle pushing off her feet. She makes a beeline for the door Hugo is holding open for her, but regrettably, it doesn’t happen without her eyes sweeping the alleyway first.
My teeth grit when Hugo asks if she’s okay while aiding her into her seat. She’s quick to nod, but it does little to dose the anger burning me alive. I pay my staff well to maintain the integrity of my empire. If my intuition is anything to go by, neither Hugo nor Hunter have done that the past several months.
Hugo barely closes Isabelle’s door when I plant my foot onto the gas pedal. My engine roars to life, its surge of power not lost on me even in my gloomy mood. I push it to its absolute limit, hopeful a rush of adrenaline from racing through the streets of the town I own will excuse the upwelling the high rise of Isabelle’s skirt caused my pulse. My car sits low to the ground, meaning inches upon inches of her luscious thighs are on display for the world to see.
My frantic speed also has a secondary purpose—to lose the tail that doesn’t squander no matter who is in my passenger seat. I could have a nun seated next to me, and the scrutiny still wouldn’t end. My life is lived under the spotlight, and the burn is more noticeable when I consider how much I’m willing to lose just for the chance to escape it for one night.
My next shift of the gears is brutal, angered by the prospect that I’m thinking with the head between my legs instead of the one between my shoulders today of all days. The woman who has invaded my thoughts at all times of the day and night the past several months arrived at my restaurant on the exact day of my deceased girlfriend’s birthday to celebrateherbirthday. Only a fool would believe this isn’t a hoax.
I take the corner of Mercer and Tate ten miles slower than its previous two counterparts when Isabelle breaks the stifling silence ridding the air of oxygen with an apology. “I’m sorry I kissed you. I shouldn’t have done it.”
Confident there’s more to her remorse than she’s letting on, I warn, “I won’t be strong-armed, Isabelle.” When she nods without hesitation, it softens my agitation by a smidge. “That’s only happened once. It won’t happen again.”
I’m genuinely lost on where to take our conversation when confusion registers on Isabelle’s face. If she’s an elaborate ruse to pry me of information only those in my inner circle are privileged to know, wouldn’t all aspects of Ophelia’s life be common knowledge to her?
Her confused expression would have you convinced she has no clue who Ophelia is. That or she’s a damn fine actor. I’m unsure which I am more hopeful for. If she’s unaware of Ophelia’s influence in my life, she most likely isn’t an elaborate ruse to take down my empire and me, but that also means my anger has no legitimacy and that I removed her from her birthday celebrations without just cause.
When stubborn restlessness overtakes the anger heating my veins, I direct my car toward Isabelle’s residence instead of my apartment building on Hyde. I need my shrewdness to return full force before tackling the conversation I’m not sure we should have ever, much less today. We make the twenty-minute trip in silence. There are many things I should say, but for the first time in my life, I’m unsure how to express them. I’ve never handled emotions like this before, and most certainly not on this day, so a bout of unease is understandable.
As I pull into the driveway of a soon-to-be-retired police officer’s home, Isabelle twists her torso to face me. “Thanks for everything.” The ghost-like grin I see in the corner of my eye doesn’t belong on the face of a woman I’ve endeavored to frighten more tonight than woo. “It was the most interesting birthday I’ve had in years.”
With nothing but playful honesty highlighting her tone, I twist my head to return her farewell. An amicable goodbye is the least I can do after the way I acted. Unaware Isabelle is leaning over to add to her goodbye with a kiss to my cheek, the unexpected movement of my head means her lips land on my mouth instead of my cheek.
The briefest brush of our lips is fire sparking as the one we shared after she blew out her candles, but it doubles in intensity when I release the growl rumbling in my chest. Her mouth tastes as scrumptious as she looks and proves that this was inevitable. Regardless of guilt, you can’t have chemistry this profound and not act on it.
After weaving my fingers through Isabelle’s glossy locks, I spear my tongue between her parted lips. I sucked down the surprised breath she exhales before dragging my tongue along the roof of her mouth. While the delicious flavors of her mouth stiffen my cock to the point it’s painful, I pull her closer to me, needing not an ounce of air between us. Once I have her right where I want her, I kiss her with everything I have. My past isn’t on my mind.
My deceased girlfriend isn’t on my mind.
Not even my empire is on my mind.
Nothing but awarding Isabelle the kiss of her life has my focus. There’s no room for anything else. It’s a blinding, truth-emitting embrace that puts to rest any concerns Isabelle’s attention is a scam to pry me of confidential information. It has my mind void of negative thoughts and convinces me the best is yet to come. As I taste her, devour her, and relish every single piece of her, Isabelle melts into my embrace before she returns my kiss with just as much passion. She duels her tongue with mine, tasting me as I taste her, then drags her cheek over the stubble on my chin as if she is as obsessed with my scent as I am hers.
We kiss, nibble, and moan for the next several long minutes, our needs only floundering when the tight confines of my car make it impossible for us to take things further. If I had any clue this is what my night would have entailed, I would have switched out my sportscar for my SUV. Alas, Hugo wanted to flex his muscles in a flashy ride. I can’t blame him. The only pleasure he gets these days is behind a steering wheel. Since I was convinced I was about to walk down a similar path, I agreed with his request to take my Bugatti out for a spin.
After tugging on the lips I’ve fantasized about more times than what’s rationally plausible with my teeth, I slowly pull back from Isabelle’s succulent mouth. It’s a tortuously slow retreat, only made so I can commence rectifying the mistakes I made tonight. I took something out of Isabelle’s control and used it against her. That doesn’t make me a monster, but it does make me responsible for ruining her birthday.
“Happy birth…” A brutal swallow gobbles up the remainder of my reply. The intoxicating scent of Isabelle’s pussy is lingering in the air, but that isn’t the only wetness our kiss instigated. Tears are pooling in her eyes. They’re on the verge of spilling over.
With my mind once again stuck in the throes of my past, I raise my hand to dab at the wetness gathered in the corner of Isabelle’s eye. A ragged breath escapes my kiss-swollen mouth when my thumb verifies the dampness halving the allure of her tempting eyes. Our kiss has her on the brink of crying—the complete opposite of how I had hoped to make her feel.
I dart my eyes between hers, wanting to speak but unable to. I never meant to hurt her so much she’d cry on her birthday.
That wasnevermy intention.
Hating that the sexual chemistry sparking between us is being overcome by unease, Isabelle whispers out a quick, “Thank you,” before she throws open the passenger door of my car, clambers out, then dashes up the cracked footpath leading to her home.
It takes me staring at the warped wooden door for several long seconds before I fire up my ignition and reverse out of her driveway. The last place I should go is to one of my nightclubs, but with my astuteness vanished, the decision is out of my hands.
“Hey, boss,” Tina adds a smile to her greeting that’s brighter than the strobe lighting above the dance floor. “I didn’t think I’d see you today.”
She isn’t aware who today’s commiserations are about, but she’s been a member of my staff long enough to know it is rare for me to take a day off. Unless it is the anniversary of Ophelia’s death, her birthday, or the day she finally relented to my ruthless chase, my focus forever remains on my empire.
Well, it did if you excluded Isabelle’s unexpected arrival into my life. My hours haven’t changed. It is my thought process that’s been rehabilitated the most.
Tina is so under the pump, this is the last thing she should say, “Would you care for a nightcap once things settle down?”
