When my quiet steals Isabelle’s giggles even quicker than they arrived, I blurt out a truth like it will be the first of many this weekend. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you laugh.”And my fucking god, I hope it isn’t the last.
Her smile is what this weekend is meant to be about. We’re not here to comb over acquisitions, proposals, and dwell over the sale of children forced to endure the punishments of their parents’ mistakes. We’re meant to be having fun.
With that in mind, I stand, act oblivious to Isabelle’s disappointed sigh she couldn’t hold back, then thrust out my hand in offering. When her hand slips into mine, I pluck her off the lounge chair with so much eagerness, our chests compete for space with every breath we share.
It takes me longer than I care to admit to unearth my next step, but when it finally exhumes itself from the fog in my head Isabelle’s closeness forever instigates, I make a mental note to add an extra zero to Hugo’s bonus check this year. “Did you pack a swimsuit?”
Isabelle’s chocolate-brown eyes bounce between mine for several heart-thrashing seconds before she sheepishly nods. Before she can voice a single inquiry I see firing through her molten gaze, I nudge my head toMummo Koti, then instruct her to get changed.
“Okay,” she replies, still reluctant but willing to oblige my brutish command.
I watch her exit with yearning-filled eyes before my imprudent stare is busted by a man who doesn’t understand the word discreet.
Colby is very much a McGregor with icy blue eyes, platinum-blond hair, and an air of cheekiness, but since his shoulders are minus the weight Cormack’s hold, he’s more daring than his older brother in both profession and personality. “Don’t tell me I’m ten minutes too late…again.”
Colby was barely a teen when Ophelia was alive, but that hasn’t stopped him berating me about how I ‘supposedly’ snagged the worm a mere ten minutes before him. He has a competitive spirit, and since not many men can go against an heir to a billion-dollar entity, let alone one with assets women can’t help but go gaga over, instead of competing with his peers during his school years, he went against men like Cormack and me.
Since no harm was done, it kept things interesting when he grew into his attitude, although I don’t see that remaining the case if he doesn’t take his eyes off Isabelle’s ass.
After stepping into his path, blocking his view of Isabelle, I ask, “Clara withdrew her bid this morning, so what are you still doing here?”
Nothing against Colby, he’s young, carefree, and reckless, the exact man I emulated when I was his age, but Cormack normally has to drag him to board meetings, kicking and screaming, so I thought he would have sprinted for the exit the instant news circulated Clara had looked past her nose instead of down it.
My brows furrow when Colby replies, “Clara didn’t withdraw her bid. Grandma K removed it from her hands.” My confusion isn’t given the chance to settle. It’s squashed by red-hot jealousy. “I also caught sight of an incentive any man would risk millions to see what could eventuate from it.” He isn’t referencing family ties. The licking of his lips while staring in the direction Isabelle went exposes this, much less the wicked glint that darts through his eyes when he murmurs, “May the best man win.”
“Colby…”
The ignorant bastard ignores the threat in my tone, instead choosing to double it by ripping off his shirt like my unvoiced invitation for Isabelle to join me in a range of water sports activates was an open invite before he moseys to his room with an extra strut to his steps.
With my desire to win at an all-time high and my brain somewhere in the vicinity of my cock, I halt a guest’s endeavor to skirt by me by hooking my thumb at his swimming trunks. “How much for your shorts?”
I tug on the crotch of my recently purchased shorts to loosen the stiff material’s hug of my cock and balls before knocking on Isabelle’s bedroom door like her room isn’t also mine. Not only did my plan commence unraveling when Colby announced an interest in Isabelle, but cracks also formed when I recalled I packed my suitcase instead of Catherine. I pay her well enough she turns a blind eye to the promiscuous undertakings at my penthouse, but nowhere near enough for her to slip three boxes of magnum condoms into my luggage like I was heading out of town for a year instead of a long weekend. I didn’t want to be caught short, so I packed my own luggage.
The condoms were the only water-safe artifact I stuffed into my overflowing suitcase. I stop smirking about my unexpected witty monologue when Isabelle advises me I can enter. The fleeting concern I experienced earlier that the tightness of my borrowed shorts will convince people I’m a creep who walks around in a constant state of erection returns when the image of Isabelle in a microscopic bikini top and tiny denim shorts thickens my cock to the point it’s painful. Almost every inch of her unblemished skin is exposed, and the visual far exceeds my greatest expectations.
She is truly ravishing.
Eager to initiate what this weekend is meant to be about and to get her as far away from Colby’s prying eyes as possible, I curl my hand around Isabelle’s, then lead her to the dock where the water sports equipment is stored. When I release her hand to fetch a wetsuit and life jacket out of the wooden structure, I spot Colby standing at the end of the jetty. Although he has the attention of a pretty blonde, his eyes continually stray to Isabelle.
Much to his disgrace, her eyes are only for one man.
It isn’t him.
Smirking, I guide Isabelle to a wooden bench at the end of the jetty before demanding for her to strip. When she slants her head, confused yet willing to comply with my every whim, I drop my eyes to her denim shorts.
“Oh,” she whispers before unfastening the zipper on her shorts and shimmying them down her slim yet enticing thighs.
Once she kicks them aside, I bob down to assist her into the wetsuit. When the briefest skim of my hands on her skin as I guide the rigid material up her legs causes her to sway like a feather caught in the gusts of a tornado, Colby devotes more of his attention to the blonde.
With my ruse having the effect I was aiming for, I could stop my chauvinistic routine. The only reason I don’t is because the more attention I bestow on Isabelle, the more obvious her erotic scent becomes. She likes the image of my kneeling before her just as much as I treasured it yesterday afternoon and, for once, she isn’t hiding the desires of her body.
She’s setting them free.
When she locks her eyes with mine, her breathing heavy in response to the fiery lust crackling between us, I wink before guiding the wetsuit over her shoulders. By the time I have her strapped in and ready to go, I’m on the verge of ripping the inflexible material off her delectable body. Her amatory scent is my undoing, not to mention her hooded, lust-filled eyes.
“Do you want to wear a lifejacket?” I ask, torn between continuing with our plans and forging new ones.
Isabelle immediately shakes her head, not only sending strands of dark hair into her eyes but also amplifying the stark contrast between her locks and Colby’s platinum-blond mop. He’s dumped the blonde to once again take up a campaign I’ll never let him win.
