She takes a second to contemplate my offer before shaking her head. “He’ll learn. Allboysdo.”
When I groan about the deliverance of her last sentence, she bumps me with her hip before filling two mugs with coffee. “What about you? Are the rumors true? Did you really bring a date toMummo Koti?” I wait for her to add a splash of milk to my coffee before lifting my chin. Her shock sees her drowning the brown brew until it turns milky white. “It’s true! Holy fuck!”
“Cate,” I chastise before reminding her that swear words won’t make her appear stronger to her competitor. It could possibly have the opposite effect.
She clears away the mess she made like she doesn’t have millions sitting in a trust fund waiting for her before replying, “Come on, Isaac. My shock is understandable. I never thought you’d bring a girl home.”
Although I don’t appreciate the jest in her tone, I value my inclusion in her family without us sharing an ounce of the same blood. Blood doesn’t make you family. Love and respect do, and the knowledge has me speaking out of turn. “Isabelle is different. She doesn’t look at me like everyone else. She sees…”
“You?” Cate fills in when words elude me.
As a smirk tugs at my lips, I dip my chin.
While swiveling on the spot, Cate says, “She sounds like a great girl. I can’t wait to meet her.” After handing me an extra milky mug of coffee, she asks, “Where is she?”
“Hopefully, on her way,” I reply before peering out the swinging doors of the kitchen.
My eyes return front and center when Cate offers, “How about you take this out on the patio while I fetch our new best friend?”
“Cate…”
As she skips to the door, she acts as if there isn’t an ounce of annoyance in my tone. “I won’t say anything about your grumpiness, Sir Cranky Pants. I just want to know if she’s heard what your nickname was in college.”
She shoots out the door before I can stop her, then even quicker than that, Clara steps into the frame, blocking my view of her scheming baby sister. “That was quick. I wasn’t expecting you at brunch for another hour.” She appears pleased my time with Isabelle was limited. “Shall we?” She waves her hand to the patio, where several key members of the Attwood/McGregor entity are mingling. “Cormack took…” she pauses like she hasn’t snarled Harlow’s name a minimum of once a day for the past six weeks. “….herriding. They won’t be back until after lunch.”
As I helm our walk outside, I ask, “Is he aware you withdrew your bid?”
Her diamond drop earrings shimmer in the midmorning sun when she shakes her head. “He left before I could tell him.” She places her hand on top of my wrist. “Please don’t share the news with him. I want him to know his position is safe directly from me.”
“Of course,” I reply, unsure why she’s requesting discreetness for an incident she instigated but willing to play nice to keep things amicable between Cormack and his siblings. I railroad anyone who tries to get between Nick and me, so I have no objections sheltering less stable relations.
Clara smiles like I offered her an invitation to my bed before she shifts on her feet to face Ruel, who’s holding out a phone for her like he’s her personal butler. “Please excuse me a minute. It could be important.”
She waits for me to bob my chin before accepting her cell phone from Ruel. As she converses with her caller in a chastised tone, I seek an ideal spot to sit on the patio. It’s late in the morning, meaning the sun has a bit of a bite to it, so I pick an intimate setting under a large umbrella near the grotto pool. The ocean breeze floating over the crystal-clear water is refreshing, and the smell of salt and sand mingling in the air presents an informal setting, even with me wearing a three-piece suit.
Old habits die hard, but it’s worse for a man who thrives from routine. That’s all set to change this weekend, though. Callie’s injuries are still notable, but she’s being well taken care of, Nick is settled and content, and although I’ve let things slip in my empire the past couple of months, the profits are still churning over like wheels on asphalt. Everything is progressing as scheduled, but there’s one matter I need to finalize. She’s breaking through French doors I guided Clara out only moments ago, her denim shorts and fitted shirt combination adding to the playfulness impinging the air.
Isabelle’s smile alone demands the room’s attention, but this morning, her curvaceous thighs are giving it a run for its money. I don’t know what to take in first. The tugging of her lips when she spots me across the room, the drawing of her knees when my molten gaze heats up every inch of her body, or her submissiveness when my head nudge for her to join me sees her immediately jumping to my unvoiced command.
I go for her lips when her smile doubles from me pulling out her chair for her. I’m not surprised they’ve once again stolen my focus. I’ve fantasized about her mouth for weeks, but my thoughts shifted to corrupt after our kiss. Now I imagine them being swollen from tasks more roughish than the sting of my bite.
“Thank you,” Isabelle whispers before talking her seat.
An amused gleam darkens my eyes when I take in the generous helping of food on her plate. “Hungry?”
“Starving.” You wouldn’t believe her comment is factual when her eyes remain on my face even after I take my seat and commence eating.
“Eat, Isabelle.”
After a final glance at my face, she shifts her eyes away before plucking a croissant drizzled in chocolate from her plate. I eye her with intrigue, waiting in anticipation for the faintest moan to leave her mouth like it does every time she eats, but I am left disappointed when her beautiful features whiten with concern instead of deepening with pleasure.
I unearth the cause of her diminished response when I shift my eyes in the direction she’s facing. Clara has finalized her phone call. She’s making her way across the pavers to us, and although her expression is friendly, Isabelle doesn’t just unmask enigmas. She has a knack for reading women’s real responses as well.
“Isabelle, what a pleasure to see you again.” Clara’s words are for Isabelle, but her affections are solely for me—regretfully.
My back molars smash together when she bops down to plant a kiss onto my cheek. If that isn’t already bad enough, she curls her arm around my waist before plopping her backside on the edge of my suit-covered knee.
Isabelle sounds as shocked as I feel while replying to Clara’s greeting. “Hi, Clara.”
