15
Three weeks later…
Clara’s crystal blue eyes pop up to mine when I say, “Catherine will have my belongings removed before you move in.”
Out of all the apartments in my arsenal of properties, she chose the most expensive one in the most sought-after location—my penthouse. I could have said no, but with Ravenshoe facing a rental shortage and my penthouse sitting empty the past three months—excluding Isabelle’s unexpected sleepover—I went with a different response. My head isn’t in the game for an unworthy fight, so I surrendered with only the slightest bit of reluctance.
It isn’t something I see occurring often, even more so when Clara replies, “That’s fine. There’s plenty of space for both our things.”
After setting down several boxes of Jimmy Choo shoes beneath the clothes Catherine purchased for Isabelle, Clara stands to her feet. Her platinum-blonde, dead-straight hair falls into her face when she shoves across a selection of clothes she’d never be caught dead in before she fills the rack with expensive dresses, boutique blouses, and designer jeans that cost more than Isabelle would make in a month.
Clara has yet to learn that beauty isn’t calculated by the price tag on the garments you wear. It is what is hiding beneath that is the most valuable.
Once she has the three suitcases she shocked the doorman with unpacked, Clara spins on her heels to face me. “I think that’s it. The rest will come in a truck.”
“A truck?” I query, certain she couldn’t have enough clothes to fill a truck. Her apartment comes furnished. She only needs to bring herself and her clothes. “How many pairs of shoes do you have?”
My jaw tightens when she rakes her fingernails across my chest. She’s been extra touchy-feely today. First, with an unexpected peck on my lips when I greeted her in the foyer of my building, then she stood extra close during our elevator ride to the top floor. Anyone would swear I asked her to move in with me, not that she begged for somewhere to stay. “I’ll never tell.”
I take a step back when images of Cormack flash through my head. Clara is attractive in her own right, but I cannot look at her without seeing her brother. They have the same platinum-blonde hair, same blue eyes, and even the same facial structure. Cormack’s are just more rigid.
Blondes are usually my go-to type when I want to forget the woes of my past for a couple of hours, but Clara will never be on that list.
When I walk into the main area of my bedroom, I ask, “Do you have an official move date yet?”
Clara shadows my walk like a lost puppy. It dampens the snip of agitation heating my veins by a smidge. She hasn’t found herself since Remy’s death. She is still genuinely lost. “I have a couple of matters to settle in New York first. It could still be a couple of weeks away.” I must grimace without realizing it because she’s quick with her endeavors to settle it. “Is that okay? I don’t want you out of pocket. I could pay rent from now to ensure my spot isn’t lost.”
“It’s fine. No payments are necessary. That would kind of defeat the point of you moving to Ravenshoe, wouldn’t it?” She blushes, embarrassed about my reminder that she’s meant to be financially struggling. “I’m just perplexed as to why you’d bring your things here now if you have no plans to move anytime soon?”
My reply stumps her for all of two seconds. “It’s for when I visit, silly.” She touches my chest for the second time. Mercifully, it is only the briefest scratch. “Airlines are sticklers for excessive baggage these days.”
“Private jets aren’t.”
Clara swallows harshly before saying in a dull tone, “These were items that reminded me of Remy. I thought it would be better if I cleared them out first.” She steps closer to me with watering, please-don’t-reject-me eyes. “I don’t have many possessions that remind me of him. Just dresses I wore on dates and shoes he told me were pretty. If I keep them in New York, I may never leave.” A minty fresh scent hits my lips when she murmurs, “It’s time for me to move on, Isaac. I deserve to be happy.” As she bounces her eyes between mine, she whispers, “I may only have half a heart, but when two broken halves are put together, the outcome can be phenomenal.”
When she fists my suit jacket and tilts her head to better align our mouths, for a second, I consider the possibility of what she is saying. Sometimes two broken hearts can find each other and heal, but I don’t believe a decimated heart is the sole prerequisite for an everlasting relationship. It would be longer-lasting with mutual respect, attraction, and a beautiful soul. Clara is missing the latter. I’m sure she will eventually find it, but it won’t be until she finds herself first.
Clara’s minty breath fans my face for the second time when I pull back. She must feel my rejection pumping out of me because her eyes are still closed in preparation for what she hoped would be our first kiss. “I have a meeting—”
“With my brother. Yes, I remember.” After wetting her now bone-dry lips, she bounces back with the tenacity of a woman with nothing to lose. “Perhaps I could join you? It’s five o’clock somewhere, right?”
Not waiting to gauge my response to her request for an invite, she waltzes back into the walk-in closet to grab herself a coat. With the decision seemingly out of my hands, I remove my cell phone from my jacket’s breast pocket before calling a familiar number.
Cormack answers a couple of rings later. “If you’re calling to place your name on Isabelle’s housewarming gift, you’re too late. Peta delivered it to her apartment this morning.”
While rocking on my heels, I stuff my unused hand into the pocket of my trousers. “I’m sure my lack of generosity will be forgiven when Isabelle learns her landlord’s name.”
The flyers I had Roger organize weeks ago worked a treat. Isabelle is in the process of moving into an apartment in one of my buildings. It brings her miles closer to me and offers up the possibility of non-publicized visits.
As I’ve said previously, I have no issues with law enforcement officers, many are friends of mine, but I prefer to keep them out of my personal life. For the past six years, my life has revolved around my empire, so the rare snippets of time when it is the last thing on my mind are highly valued. I don’t want to give them up for anything.
“Listen, I’m not calling about Isabelle.”This time.
“Clara—” I’m cut off by a mangled groan, but when that is all Cormack says, I continue talking as if he never interrupted me. “She’s in town and wanting an invitation to our meeting slash early dinner.”
I arch a brow when Cormack gabbles out, “Our meeting?”
Daftness isn’t his strong point. He merely utilizes the non-business side of his head more times than not since he patched things up with Harlow. She has a way of reminding him that success isn’t solely business-related. You can have personal success as well. It’s called love.
