With my dithering moods making me hot, I forgo the tie and jacket. Instead, after brushing away the dark locks spilling down one side of Isabelle’s beautiful face, I exit the room in trousers, a buttoned-up dress shirt, and a vest I’ve noticed Isabelle eyeing in awe on more than one occasion.
I recall the number of cameras monitoringMummo Kotiwhen my cell phone commences ringing a second after I enter Maximus’s office. Conscious it’s most likely Hunter calling, I dig my phone out of my pocket, slide my finger across the screen, then squash my phone to my ear. “Maximus must have slept in. His office is empty.”
My long strides to Maximus’s desk halve when a distinctly male voice replies, “Who’s Maximus?”
“Is everything okay?” I ask my father, put off by his call. He only ever makes contact electronically when it’s urgent, and he can’t locate me. “Nick—”
“Nicholas is fine.” He coughs to clear his throat. Another telltale sign something isn’t quite right. “It’s your mother.”
There it is.
“She’s… ah… come into a little bit of trouble. I offered to help her…”Like you always do, even with her telling you on multiple occasions you were never good enough for her.“But it’s a little outside of my means.”
“So she asked you to come to me?”
“No,” he blatantly defends. “I offered.” He’s lying. Don’t ask me how I know. I just do. My jaw tightens when he mumbles, “And I thought it was better than the alternative.”
“Nick doesn’t have the means to support her, especially when she didn’t even try to parent him during adolescence.”
My mother has and will always be about the money. Some say I get my tenacity for success from her. I’m quick to prove them otherwise. I built my empire so I wouldn’t have to mooch off people as my mother has her entire life. She finds a target, milks them for all they’re worth, then once she has sucked them dry, she moves on. She only agreed to carry Nick on the stipulation she got everything in the divorce my parents were in the process of filing when I was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. Once I was given the all-clear and the well she’d been mining from having a sick child, she tookeverythingfrom my father, and I’m not merely talking in the material sense.
She stripped him bare as I once believed Ophelia’s death had done to me. It’s only seeing how Isabelle is returning the oxygen in my veins one smile at a time that has me reconsidering old objectives. Even now, when my fangs would usually be pronged with poison, watching her race out of the room we shared last night via a monitor next to Maximus’s desk has me offering leniency I rarely give.
“Send details of her situation to my lawyer. If Regan deems it appropriate for my empire to be associated with it, I’ll have the funds wired by the end of today.”
I stop admiring the generous swell of Isabelle’s breasts as she effortlessly skips down the hallway when my father asks, “And if it isn’t deemed as appropriate?”
I am about to reply,then it won’t be funded by me, but then I recall exactly how murky things have become for my empire the past couple of months. I’m wading it through waters I swore it would never sail for a woman I can’t confidently declare is mine in every meaning of the word, yet I wouldn’t change a single thing.
Words mean nothing when it comes to understanding the meaning behind them. They’re pointless gasps of air that only come to life when you prove them via actions instead of statements. Sitting back and waiting for greatness to come to you will never happen. If you don’t go after what you want, you will never get it. I begin to wonder if my father has the same beliefs as me. Is that why he continuously helps my mother no matter the cost? Did he promise her the world, knowing it may not always include him? And if he did, would he change anything he’s done between then and now to alter the outcome?
When it dawns on me that his answer to my last question would mirror mine to a T—a very resounding no—I tell him I’ll organize a hefty six-figure sum to be deposited into his bank account today that he can use in any way he sees fit before disconnecting our call. When Hunter’s scruffy face pops up on one of the many monitors in Maximus’s office a second later, I hold my finger in the air, telling him I need a minute before I dump my iPhone and burner phone onto the beaten wooden top, then make my way in the direction I last saw Isabelle.
I had greatness in my grasp last night, but instead of relishing it, I let my past cruelly snatch it away from me. I can’t travel through time to change the errors I made yesterday any more than I wish my father could, but I can put steps into place to ensure Isabelle doesn’t bear the brunt of my frustrations.
The unease making my dress shirt cling to my chest clears away for the thrill of the chase when I spot Isabelle entering the patio we convened at yesterday. Her steps are playful, but it has nothing on the impishness that sets the air on fire when I realize she’s wearing the two-piece swimsuit she donned yesterday during our thrilling yet unfortunately cut short jet-ski ride.
A smirk tugs at my mouth when Colby’s attempt to greet Isabelle before me is thwarted by Cormack. He asks him about a business proposal he’s hoping his inheritance will fund, freeing me to stalk to Isabelle’s side of the patio with only a handful of guests eyeballing my every move instead of the two dozen that were gawking when the shift in the air announced our dual arrival from opposite ends of the patio.
A moan similar to the one that left her pouty lips last night when she announced she was hankering for a dessert of the non-eating type rumbles up Isabelle’s airways when her name leaves my throat in a husky groan. When I lean in close, feigning that I can’t reach the croissants without trapping her between the buffet table and me, the scent her obviously brisk shower failed to remove doubles. It’s an amorous smell that fills me with confidence that it will take more than a man like Col Petretti to come between Isabelle and me. Not even the Almighty himself could break such an intense connection.
She almost drops her mug brimming with freshly brewed coffee when I greet her with a husky purr of her name. When she peers up at me, the air shifts. Unlike last night when her inquisitiveness was helming her thoughts, this morning, nothing but unbridled hankering is firing through her alluring eyes. She wants to be ravished, but regretfully, Maximus didn’t get the memo. He’s gesturing for me to join him. His expression is so urgent, I have no choice but to wink at the desperation in Isabelle’s eyes in silent confirmation I’ll take care of it at the first available opportunity.
Acting ignorant to the disappointed sigh rippling through Isabelle’s plump lips when I spin away from her, I continue pacing toward Maximus. The length of my strides should indicate I want this matter handled with the swiftness as if he is four men, but just in case, I add words to the stern expression on my face. “Let’s make this quick. Did Col announce Isabelle’s heritage to her father?”
His reply isn’t shocking and neither is the firmness it causes my jaw. “Yes and no. He was more sending out feelers than straight-up admitting he’s aware of her location.” After gesturing for me to follow him down the hallway that leads to his office, he adds, “He can’t siphon millions from you if he exposes his hand before play commences.”
“I’ll kill him long before I give him a dime of my money,” I mutter under my breath.
Maximus stops in his tracks, stunned by my reply but understanding of it. “We figured as much, hence Hunter’s late night to reinvent your previously publicized regime.” He motions for me to enter his office. When I do, he steps into the hub usually solely responsible for Attwood Electric’s security means before closing the door behind him. “There’s no denying things have been tense between the Popovs and Petrettis for the past few years.”
“More like decades.”
He grunts out his confirmation before continuing as if I didn’t interrupt, “But we’ve never had a common denominator between the two entities until now.”
I’m about to correct him, but before I can, Hunter joins our conversation. “He means Isabelle, boss. Not you.” His comment announces that he’s kept Maximus in the dark about the possible intermingling of rivaling mafia entities’ bloodline. That isn’t unusual. Trust is a very hard thing for Hunter to award. I’ve known him for a couple of years now, and I’m not even guaranteed a spot on his who-he-trusts list. I twist to face the monitor Hunter’s voice is projecting from when he informs, “Although Col flew to Vegas and requested a meeting with Vladimir, for the most part, he kept Isabelle’s identity under wraps.”
“Because bribery is very much Col’s only defense mechanism these days.”
