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“Promise?”
I give my baby brother a pat on the shoulder, assuring him that I’ll never abandon him.
We gave Matty a choice when Rob and Amber got married, even though the couple was happy for Matty to keep living with them. In the end, Matty chose to move in with me of his own accord.
I ask him, “Did you regret leaving Rob’s place?”
“No. I like living with you. Rob can sometimes be too intense.”
The day has gone better than expected. I had anticipated Isabelle’s resistance, but I’m making headway. Whatever Fletcher is doing to her, I’m going to kick his ass out of her life. It doesn’t take a scientist to figure out a woman in distress, no matter how much she tries to hide it. And it doesn’t take a Simon Blake to know what kind of man Donovan Fletcher is.
My hand is still on Matty’s shoulder, but the warmth from Isabelle’s touch still lingers. My heart is beating for her. But dare I give it to her?
13
ISABELLE
Once you go Porsche, you won’t look at another. When they say it’s ‘driving at its finest’—you’d better believe it.
Unfortunately, tonight, I did have to look back. Very reluctantly.
After my shift, I handed over the sleek red baby to Clayton’s driver. The man himself had an urgent meeting with the Air Force, apparently, but he sent a pack of chocolates to apologize for his absence.
So our story isn’t completely over. Barely a month ago, that man was simply a fantasy, an escape from enduring Don’s savagery. Now, as real life takes over, I can’t believe that he’s actually still in it.
Clayton’s little brother. Even without knowing his name, I would’ve known that boy was a Hartley—thatHartley family. I’ve dealt with children almost all my life—starting from babysitting when I was a teenager, to a stint as a kindergarten teacher, to now. I’ve always been fascinated by family resemblance in kids. If I mix Robson’s eyes with Clayton’s nose and lips, that would be Matthew.
I must admit, seeing Clayton interacting with his hybrid Hartley mini-me, I felt all warm and fuzzy, like I had found a father figure for Raffi—and a manly figure for myself. Crazy, but it happened.
Thomas notices me pulling into my driveway. He stands by the door, goofily jeering at my Toyota.
“Don’t say anything,” I warn.
“I’d say it’s great that you have your car back, but gee… I must say, I’m sorry,” Thomas consoles me, slightly exaggerating. “Hey, maybe one day you’ll get to own one. Maybe a wedding present?”
“Shut up!” I grumble. I found out that Clayton’s set of wheels is a limited edition that costs about two-hundred-eighty grand. But I guess it’s nothing to him, considering some of his yachts sell for more than half a billion dollars a pop.
“Hi, Mom,” Raffi greets me, donning the same look as Thomas when he sees my car.
“Done your homework?” I move his attention away from my chariot, which has just changed back into a pumpkin.
“Yes.”
I turn to Thomas. “You didn’t do it for him, did you?” I know Raffi had a big math homework.
“I just helped,” Thomas reveals in a neutral tone.
My car lock beeps, and he laughs at me. “You still bother to lock that old junk?”
“Hey, it’s mine, and it still works fine.”
“Whatever!”
“Did you see Clayton today?” asks Raffi.
“No. He had a meeting.”
“Clayton looks like a kind man. I like him.”
