She hums in agreement. “When is her meeting?”
“A quarter past the hour. Why? Do you think you have what it takes to persuade her, Isaac?”
If our meeting was occurring in person, I’d snuff her conceited tone with a knee-quaking sideways glare. Since it isn’t, I tell her I want the three proposals she’s juggling on my desk by close of business today. That should keep her occupied long enough, she won’t have time to meddle in my private affairs. She’s worse than Hugo of late, and that’s saying something. He’s an old romantic at heart who happens to also have a fascination for tattoos.
I consider asking Ruel to chaperon a meeting with Clara in my room, but one smell of Isabelle’s intoxicating scent ends that thought before it’s truly considered. Isabelle is beautiful in general, but the warmer morning has given her cheeks an aroused look, and the parting of her lips as she sucks in shallow breaths is an erotic visual for any man. Furthermore, I’d rather avoid another confrontation like the one that soured my mood early this morning, not encourage one.
So, with that in mind, I stand to my feet before heading for the door. An unusual set of variables plagues me partway there. Sneaking out is my go-to option when my bed companions don’t get the hint to leave, but it feels wrong this time around. I’ve been waiting for Isabelle to wake for hours, and just as she starts to rouse, I’m tiptoeing toward the door.
It feels wrong yet amusing at the same time. A man with my aura doesn’t tiptoe, but I’d be a liar if I claimed my heels have touched the floor my past ten strides.
Even if I wanted to continue with my devious exit, I lose the chance when my cell phone commences hollering. Since it isn’t the one resting on the mahogany desk in the corner of the vast space, I immediately answer it.
“Can you talk?” Hunter asks, not bothering to issue a greeting, his tone gruff.
I sling my eyes to Isabelle to ensure she’s still resting. She is, but she rolled onto her side to drown out the shrill of my cell bouncing off the wallpapered walls with her pillow. After pivoting away to project my voice in the direction opposite her, I ask, “About?”
I hear Hunter scrub at his beard before he answers, “I think Callie, but I’m not one hundred percent sure.”
Conflict rains down on me. Hunter is rarely off his game, so for him to feel unease, he is truly unsure what is happening.
“Give me five minutes, then I’ll call you back.”
Stealing his chance to reply, I pull my cell down from my ear, disconnect our call, then pace to Isabelle’s half of the room. Goosebumps break across her skin when the last half of my trek includes the faintest glide of my fingertip up a portion of her skin sticking out of the bedding. She looks good in my shirt, so much so, the only way it will be improved is when it’s crumpled on the floor next to my suit.
“Isabelle…” I keep my tone clipped and short with the hope it will summon more of a response from her than the moans my closeness elicited from her multiple times last night. “It’s time to wake up.”
When my command only increases the ruddy hue on her cheeks, I brush her dark hair away from her face, tuck her in like the featherdown quilt is responsible for the heat radiating out of her, then pace for the desk to call for assistance. Although I’d rather her not wake until I return, I can’t risk her waking alone in a foreign environment just to let my domineering personality reign supreme, even more so since I stripped her bare.
Just as I pick up the receiver of the intercom system wired into every room atMummo Koti, the familiar whistle of a woman unknowledgeable of her worth sounds from behind the bedroom door. I return the receiver to the hook before moving for the door.
As suspected, Harlow is making her way down the corridor. She appears a little lost, and I don’t mean solely in reference to the location of her room. Her shoulders are hanging lower than they were when Cormack ushered her into our private jet yesterday afternoon, and her usually chipper personality seems to have been sideswiped by a truck.
When Harlow spots my stalk, I take a mental note to pass my findings onto Cormack before moving out of the shadows so I don’t look like a creeper.
After settling her erratic heart rate from my unexpected arrival, Harlow greets, “Oh, hey, Isaac. Everything okay?” When I nudge my head to Isabelle, her mouth falls open. “She’s still asleep? Jesus. What’s it been? Fourteen hours?”
“A little over eighteen, but who’s counting?”
Sparks of the woman Cormack is obsessed with shines brightly when she replies, “You, by the sound of it.”
I throw my head back and laugh.Touché.
When my chuckles stir Isabelle, I put motions into play to ensure I’ll be back before she wakes. “Would you mind keeping an eye on Isabelle for me? I have a very important callI need to make.” Harlow nods without pause for thought, loosening the knot in my stomach in an instant. “Thank you. I won’t be long. Please don’t leave her side. I don’t want her to wake up alone.”
The conflicting emotions hammering me are undeniable when I press my lips to the corner of Harlow’s mouth. I’m not a kiss-hello-and-goodbye type of man. Kissing is an intimacy I rarely participate in. When the women occupying my bed want to put their lips to work, I guide them toward an area certain to steal their focus from my mouth.
After dipping my chin at Harlow, hopeful she won’t take my affection in the wrong manner, I head for the back entrance ofMummo Koti.It is where the staff comes and goes. Since they’re more reliant than the men and women who board Attwood Electric, I’m confident anything I say in their presence will remain between them and me. Gossip circulates more amongst people who haven’t earned their wealth than the hardworking half of society.
“Boss,” Hunter greets after answering my call within two rings. “What is it?”
I stop wearing out the antique rug covering the back patio when he replies, “Col Petretti didn’t assault Callie.”
“His family crest was embedded in her cheek. Only Petretti members can wear their family crest.”
Hunter huffs before disclosing, “Col was in New York at the time of her assault. I have hours of footage of him sourced from multiple locations. Half the time he was doing shit I would have preferred not to see, but there’s no denying it’s him.”
Blood and gore aren’t Hunter’s kinks, but his reply seems about more than that. He has the same tight-jawed response he had when I asked him to research what happened to the previous children Vladimir sold. You can be assured his discoveries strengthened my determination to win Callie no matter how high her sale goes. I’ll forfeit everything I have for a little girl I don’t know simply to ensure she doesn’t encounter the cruel injustices her half-siblings have faced.
