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So he knows Don’s movements. But it doesn’t give me any comfort. I’m still engrossed in the vision of that man with a green tattoo.
Clayton seems to know what’s playing on my mind. “That rogue biker wanted to getme, Isabelle. Not you. Fletcher wants me. He’s always wanted me.”
“And what do you know about me?” Waves crash against my ribcage, anticipating a big reveal that will push me into a corner.
“I know about your parents and the Fletcher family. You don’t owe Donovan anything.”
So he has dug into my past? I glance at my bracelet. He even knew to put it on my left arm, above my watch. My tongue is eager to curse at him, but a part of me wants him to know who I am.
“You think with your money and power, you can buy me?” I serve him a sinister look.
“Isabelle, I’m not trying to buy you!” His wide eyes tell me he thinks I’m unbelievable. Whether he knows my true or fabricated past remains to be seen. “Yes, money and power help my cause, but I’ve got a heart, too. I genuinely want to get that bastard out of your life. You know damn well he’s not a good man!”
“You want to wage war against Fletcher?”
“Oh, we’re already at war.”
My phone beeps. It’s Thomas, and he’s waiting for me.
“I’m sorry, I must go.”
“Isabelle—”
“We’ve never met,” I clip out.
“Donovan Fletcher is threatening you with something. Don’t try to deny it, don’t try to protect him.”
“We’ve never met. Got that?”
“It’s too late for that.”
“You know nothing about me, Mr. Hartley. Please, for the sake of all of us, leave me alone.”
My heart tells me to trust him, just like I trusted him to touch me and fix my dress in that dim space between a reprieve and a torturous night. But I can’t afford to be foolish. Don’s attention might not be on me at the moment, but it won’t be long before he watches me like a hawk again.
I sidestep Clayton. My feet are aching, not because of my shift, but because the whole weight of me is screaming at them to stop and turn back to the man who was once my savior and comfort.
10
CLAYTON
My head is filled with images of Isabelle, and I have no hope of erasing them. I thought I’d been in enough kinds of romantic pickles that the rest of my life would feel like a walk in the park, but this—wanting a woman who wants nothing to do with me—is turning me upside down, shaking me to the core.
If that’s not enough, what I know about women has been flung out the window.
Hell,sheprotected me.
If that man on the motorbike was really gunning for me, I could’ve taken him down. I would’ve felt him against me, and I have no doubt my instinct would’ve kicked in.
But it didn’t matter what I could’ve done. The fact remains that Isabelle put herself in harm’s way—for me.
At that moment, I was at the receiving end of her incredible determination. She shielded me with all she had—or what she didn’t have. I mean, where did she get that strength from? She was a wrecking ball when she shoved me. I guess desperation can drive anyone to possess power beyond their normal limits. But did I mean that much to her?
A woman could spend day and night trying to convince me of her loyalty and undying love, but what Isabelle did in that split second was more than what any other woman is capable of showing in her lifetime.
And that’s more than enough reason for me to love her.
Maybe love is too strong a word and too soon a feeling. But what I have for her is more than lust, infatuation, or impulse. It’s coming from a deep place; it’s grounding me as much as it’s lifting me up.
