“Do you think his visit corresponds with Col or Isabelle?”
Maximus jumps back into the conversation. “It could be both, but until we know either way, you need to…”
Since Maximus isn’t game to finalize his reply while in the same room as me, Hugo finalizes it on his behalf. “You need to stay away from Isabelle, boss.” I’m confident he can see me when he instantly replies to the brisk shake of my head. “No one doubts you can protect her from Col.” The surge of confidence his reply thickens my blood with is sideswiped when he quickly adds, “But we don’t know how the Popovs operate. Vladimir sells his own children for fuck’s sake, so who knows how far he’d go if he were to learn a billion-dollar entity is willing to risk it all to keep one of his kin safe.”
Since I can’t deny his claim I’d put it all on the line for Isabelle, I remain quiet. It isn’t a common occurrence for me, but just like I knew Isabelle was it for me when she skidded to a stop at my feet, I know this abnormality will eventually show its true self as well.
31
Maximus folds his arms in front of his chest before leaning back in his overcompensating office chair. His laidback aura makes it seem as if his next comment is nowhere near as frustrating as it is. “If you want your reputation to precede you, you need to represent the monster it was formed off instead of the seraph you hide behind.” When I scoff at his claims that I’m an angel, he leans forward until his elbows balance on the edge of his beat-up desk. “Just because you walk like the devil, speak like the devil, and act like the devil doesn’t mean you are the devil. There’s evil all around us. It’s how we respond to it that speaks the loudest.” He leans over his desk to switch off the bank of monitors I was using to scrutinize Isabelle’s every mood before arching a brow.
His smugness dissipates when I murmur, “Every man knows the fastest route to encourage temptation is by acting disinterested.”
My teeth grit when he counterbids, “If that’s true, why are you so worked up about Isabelle spending time with Colby?”
I don’t answer him. Not solely because I don’t answer to anyone but myself, but also because I am lost of a reply. I’m out of sorts today, rattled by the thought that every decision, protocol, and rule I conceived over the past six years are being trampled by none other than me. The sweat and blood my empire was built on can handle the misfortune of dealing with the likes of Vladimir Popov and Col Petretti. It is my personal life I am unsure of. This is all so new to me. I don’t usually curb the rules for anyone. They are my rules. My protection. My way. I’ve never adjusted my need to control all aspects of my life for anyone, but Isabelle has my back bowing so immeasurably, it’s close to snapping.
As is my restraint when I realize what I must do. “Call Keke. Give her a description of the women I was generally seen with before Isabelle. Blonde. Tall—”
“Brainless,” Maximus interrupts, aware I can fire him since I am a shareholder at Attwood Electric but confident his relationship with Cormack will see him not touching his 401K for at least another three years.
“Schedule a once-a-week date commencing the night I’m scheduled to return to Ravenshoe.”
Hunter jumps into the conversation like he isn’t thousands of miles away. “Only once a week? Do you think anyone will believe that?” When I growl, I imagine him scrubbing his hand across his beard. “Don’t shoot the messenger. I am just telling it as I’m seeing it.”
“And I should trust your expertise because…” I don’t give him the chance to answer, “… your daily exertive activities in the presence of your neighbor increased her prying instead of decreasing it?”
Maximus chokes on his coffee, but Hunter remains as quiet as a church mouse. It’s hard to fathom how he forgets I have eyes covering every inch of Ravenshoe when he was the surveillance tech who installed them on my behalf.
“Ask Keke for her expertise. Book whatever she deems appropriate.” Keke is in the brothel industry, but since she works directly under Henry Gottle, Sr., I trust her opinion as I do his. We all have skillsets to exploit. Henry’s is the cruel battles of the underworld. Keke’s is knowing how many dates it will take for men as vile as Vladimir and Col to think I’ve gotten over a buxom brunette with a Cupid’s bows lip and sultry taste capable of bringing any man to his knees.
“And you?” Maximus sits a little straighter when struck by my ruthless glare. “Ensure Colby is aware of the consequences if he were to arrive at my room tonight, especially if he comes with them.” I nudge my head to the square foil packets Colby commenced stuffing into his wallet a minute after telling Isabelle he will be down to tuck her in once she’s slipped into something more comfortable. She politely denied his request, but Colby isn’t taking the hint. He’s been pushing the boundaries all day with playful touches and a heap of flirty innuendo, and it has my anger reaching a point I’m about to tell Colby Isabelle is mine with more than words.
My bed.
My rules.
Mine.
OnceI’ve convinced Col I crave the opposite.
My confession in Maximus’s office careened my mood to a low I haven’t experienced since Ophelia’s death. I’m often referred to as heartless and aloof with an icy demeanor by the women I use as vessels to get off, but it’s rare for me to show this side to people I invite into my inner circle. I garner their respect by giving them respect, but that thought process is null and void when it comes to Isabelle.
Her float down the hallway of our room is mesmerizing. The gentle bounce of her tits, the fluid movements of her hips, and her ghost-like grin has my astuteness faltering, but instead of relishing the usual slip, I’m despising it because I’m not responsible for her carefree demeanor. Colby is, and the awareness of this, along with Isabelle’s smile slipping when she spots my gawk, has jealousy fueling my responses instead of ardor.
I snatch up Isabelle’s wrist, pull her into my side, then growl down her ear, “Stay away from Colby.”
With her hackles as spiked as mine, she slips out of my grip before entering our room with so much eagerness, anyone would be convinced she’s more interested in Colby than me.
I know that isn’t the case. Her skin doesn’t prickle when he trickles his fingers across her nape, nor do her thighs press together, but with my qualm exhausted from a tiring day of bureaucratic bullshit mafia entities shouldn’t have, I snap out, “You shouldn’t have a problem with my request unless you’re interested in sleeping with him.” I work my jaw side to side while following her into the room. “Are you interested in him, Isabelle?”
When she hesitates, it takes everything I have not to prove her body belongs to me no matter what her head thinks. The only reason I don’t is because a person’s confidence should never excuse the pains of their past. More times than not, the person with the most pointed nose is the one who has suffered the repercussions of the heaviest family crown.
Mercifully, Isabelle is far too humble to let my thoughts wander. It’s her ability to see past the shields others wear that makes her so fascinating. She sees me, Isaac, not the enigma everyone else perceives. However, that doesn’t make her any less curious. The crinkle between her brows exposes none of the questions her curious mind formulated last night have left her head, much less her attempt to negotiate with a master negotiator. “I’ll answer your question if you answer one of mine.”
“Ain’t going to happen,” I reply without pause for thought. Nothing in my personal life is up for negotiation. My mother has yet to learn that, but I plan to slowly teach her.
A smirk etches on my mouth when some of the sass I’m dying to exert from Isabelle with hours on sticky sheets rears its head. “Then get out of my room.”
