Enigma, #1, page 9
Shocked and frozen in place, I watch Isaac stride toward the driver’s side door Hugo is stepping out of. Isaac and Hugo talk in hushed whispers. Hugo nods before his blue eyes lift to mine. He offers me a wary smile before moving around the vehicle and opening the passenger side door.
Isaac’s eyes lift to mine. He gestures for me to enter the car before he slides into the driver’s seat, not bothering to wait for my response. Although this is a prime opportunity for me to make a calculated getaway, I can’t force myself to walk away from him. Reluctantly, I head to the sleek black car.
“Are you okay?” Hugo’s concerned eyes roam my face.
I nod, before accepting his assistance into the car.
“Thank you,” I whisper graciously.
Because of how low the car sits, I have to slide into the leather seat. My black pencil skirt glides up high on my thigh, exposing a significant portion of my bare skin. I pull down on the hem, hoping to stretch it to a respectful length, but there’s no give in the sturdy material.
The instant Hugo closes the passenger door, Isaac pulls his car away from the curb. His engine roars to life with the heavy compression of the accelerator, his tires squealing as we whiz away from the restaurant.
He weaves his car in and out of the heavy commuter traffic, the veins in his arms flexing when he changes gears. Although his attention never veers from the road, I catch his gaze occasionally peering at me from the corner of his eye.
If he’s trying to scare me, he’s failing miserably. With his assertiveness and astute business mind, he’d never take an uncalculated risk. He just wants to flaunt his superiority because I embarrassed him.
His next shift of the gears is so rough, I’m surprised the gearshift didn’t snap off. His hand curls around the steering wheel so tight, his knuckles are white.
All this anger over a simple kiss.
“I’m sorry I kissed you,” I apologize. “I shouldn’t have done it.”
His eyes snap to mine. Even in his angry mood, his sultry gaze still wanders over my body, lingering on my bare thighs longer than what could be classed as an acceptable glance.
He glowers into my eyes as he sneers, “I won’t be strong-armed, Isabelle.”
I nod, accepting that a man as dominant as Isaac would never willingly relinquish his power. His jaw muscle slackens when he notices my agreeing gesture.
He returns his gaze to the road. “That has only happened once. It won’t happen again.”
I study his profile in silence, striving to work out what he meant by his statement. I don’t believe a sane man would strongarm a man with a reputation like Isaac’s. They would have to be a certified lunatic if they did. So, I’m going to assume his statement isn’t about a man. It has to be a woman he’s referring too.
Ignoring the pang of jealousy hitting my chest, my gaze shifts to the blackened sky to ponder in silence. I’ve been over Isaac’s entire FBI file with a fine-toothed comb. There’s nothing in there indicating any romantic interests, past or present, so it must be something that happened before he attracted the attention of the law enforcement office—something that can only be discovered by unearthing the real Isaac Holt. Something that will remain buried as I don’t believe anyone will ever fully unravel the mystery of Mr. Holt.
When Isaac pulls into the driveway of Regina’s house, I return my gaze to his, which is focused straight ahead.
“Thanks for everything,” I whisper. “It was the most interesting birthday I’ve had in years.”
I unbuckle my seat belt before leaning over to press a peck on his cheek. When he abruptly turns his head, my kiss lands on his stern mouth instead. I freeze, panicked at what his reaction will be from me kissing him a second time without permission.
He growls a low and menacing snarl that forces me to exhale a shaky breath. Before any apologies can spill from my lips, he seals his mouth over mine.
My insecurities vanish the instant his tongue plunges into my shocked mouth. A throaty groan erupts from my lips when he fists my hair and yanks it back to deepen our kiss. My excited moan urges him on. Our kiss is intense, desperate, and needy. He kisses me as I’ve never been kissed before, a stimulating blur of nibbles, sucks, and licks. It’s a kiss so potent my thighs shudder. A kiss every girl fantasizes about.
I respond with the same amount of intensity as if it might be the last time I’ll experience his awe-inspiring kisses because it most likely will be.
I’m aroused and emotionally moved by his kiss at the same time. I don’t know whether to burst into tears or combust into ecstasy.
By the time he pulls back from our embrace, my mind is a blurred mess of confusion. “Happy birthd—”
He stops talking mid-sentence, his eyes darting between mine. His thumb dabs my right eye, gathering the dampness I didn’t realize had pooled there. When he observes the moisture on his thumb, he expels a ragged breath. Although he doesn’t utter a sound, his eyes relay the words he wants to say. I’m sorry.
“Thank you,” I reply, acknowledging both his silent apology and his birthday wishes.
I stammer a quick goodbye before yanking open the passenger door and rushing into Regina’s house, not once risking a glance back. When I close the front door, I glide down to sit on the floor and cradle my knees in my arms.
When did my life become so complicated?
When I’m immersed in Isaac’s world, I completely forget he’s under investigation. When I’m with him, I only see him, a man who makes my hairs bristle to attention with a single touch. Then I turn up to work, and my head clutters with confusion. It’s like he’s two different people because that incredibly appealing man I can’t force myself to forget can’t be the same Isaac Holt his FBI file leads me to believe he is.
He can’t be.
Chapter 15
“You have to cancel the cake orders before my ass explodes.”
Isaac’s gorgeous face is puzzled until he realizes who is accosting him in the street. When I saw his sleek black town car in front of the restaurant I’d initially spotted him at several months ago, I decided to approach him regarding his extravagant but heartfelt gift.
The day after my birthday when I arrived at Harlow’s bakery to place my morning coffee order, Harlow presented me with a giant decorative cupcake. It was red velvet, and it was the most scrumptious cake I’d ever eaten.
The second day, I was presented with another cupcake. That time, the enticing flavor was chocolate mint. By the third day, my curiosity intensified.
After wrangling Harlow for nearly thirty minutes, she finally enlightened me. Because Isaac and I had left the restaurant before I sampled my birthday cake, Isaac requested for Harlow to supply me with one originally flavored cupcake per day for an entire year. A YEAR!
“It was very sweet of you, but after only five days, the struggle to squeeze into my jeans is already real.”
Isaac’s lips curve into an authentic smile, making my heart palpitate faster. When his eyes dart down to my jeans, I stand straighter and suck in my bottom. I may not yet have a Kim Kardashian butt, but if I keep eating the cupcakes Harlow is supplying me with, I don’t think it will be too far off.
“That just means there will be more Isabelle to explore.”
He can say that, I’ve seen him naked. I swear there isn’t an ounce of fat on his entire body. Well, except for that one area where thickness is a necessary and wanted requirement. However, someone with my lagging metabolism will have to run a minimum of three miles a day just to ensure those cupcakes don’t make it onto my already curvy backside and squidgy belly.
Before I can derive a witty comeback to his remark, a lady joins our conversation. She looks to be a similar age to me, but her aura of grace and dignity makes her appear more mature.
“Isaac, honey, are you going to introduce me to your friend?”
Her tone is friendly, and her interest in me appears genuine, but my irritation still irks from her calling Isaac ‘honey.’
“Isabelle, this is Clara. Clara, this is Isabelle Brahn.”
My brows meet my hairline, surprised Isaac knows my last name, but considering I’ve slept in his bed half-naked, kissed him on the lips without permission, and am spying on him every day as a career, I brush off any concerns over the fact he knows my last name.
Clara inhales as her blue eyes drift between Isaac and me. After a beat, she extends her manicured hand to accept the greeting I’m offering.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Isabelle.”
After the awkward introduction, our gathering plummets toward uncomfortable. Isaac, as always, is impeccably dressed in a tailored black suit. Clara is wearing a gorgeous pale blue slip dress, so I stand out like a sore thumb in a pair of jeans I squeezed into, a short-sleeve blouse, and a pair of black ballet flats. I couldn’t feel any more out of place if I tried.
“Well, I better get going.” My eyes nervously shift to Isaac. “I just wanted to thank you for the gift, although it was completely unnecessary.”
His lips tug high as he dips his chin.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Clara,” I inform her before spinning on my heels and head toward the bakery.
“Oh, don’t go. Can’t you join us?” Clara requests.
I hesitate, then turn back around. Isaac’s eyes are staring into mine, but they don’t give me any indication if he objects to Clara’s invitation.
“Umm, thank you for the offer, but I’m slightly underdressed.” I motion to my jeans.
The last time I attempted to enter this restaurant dressed as I am, I was advised there’s a public restroom located one block over.
Isaac’s eyes wander over my body before returning to my face. “You look perfectly fine.”
I try to hide my smile, but my lips furl at his compliment, especially considering the fact it was the exact words he said to me months ago outside of the business class lounge.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “But I have to return to work.”
After all, I was only walking down this street to get the team’s early morning coffee.
Isaac curtly nods but remains quiet. Clara clasps her hands together as if she’s considering a plea. I awkwardly wave, spin on my heels, and cringe at my lack of elegance.
I don’t turn around, but I can feel Isaac’s heated gaze tracking me until I enter the bakery. Upon entering, I spot Harlow standing near a noticeboard in her bakery. Her head turns toward the door when she hears the bell chime.
“Are you still looking for an apartment?” She yanks down a flyer from the noticeboard.
Nodding, I bridge the gap between us. I’ve been seeking an apartment since I arrived in Ravenshoe. I just haven’t secured one yet. Most apartments in the area are either out of my price range or the moderately-priced ones have hundreds of applications, and mine is always denied.
“This place sounds ideal.” She thrusts a piece of paper into my hand—two bedrooms, two bathrooms, an underground garage, and a balcony all for twelve hundred dollars a month.
“What’s the catch?”
I’ve always believed if something is too good to be true, it is. This apartment seems too good to be true.
“Is it located in Ravenshoe’s equivalent of the Bronx?”
Harlow laughs boisterously and slaps my forearm. “There’s no Bronx area of Ravenshoe. Call and make an appointment,” she suggests. “Then crumple up the advertisement and throw it in the bin. That will stop anyone else applying.”
The advertisement does look newly printed, and none of the slips at the bottom have been torn off yet. Maybe if I’m quick enough, I could beat the other applicants.
I yank my cell phone out of my pocket and dial the number displayed.
“Because this apartment has just become available, the owner wishes to keep it on a month-to-month periodic lease,” the real estate agent advises, moving toward the glass double door that opens onto a beautiful balcony.
“Okay, that’s fine.”
A month-to-month basis suits my requirements perfectly. In my line of work, I can’t commit to anything permanently, not even a relationship. Well, that’s a somber thought.
“All appliances are supplied with the apartment, and you’ll have access to a laundry downstairs.”
I nod, acknowledging I’ve heard her as I wander around the apartment. The living area is large and would comfortably fit two double sofas. The kitchen is compact but is adeptly equipped with a range of high-end stainless-steel appliances.
All the rooms have ample natural light, and the master suite has a walk-in closet, but the one thing that stops me in my tracks and makes my heart flutter is the clawfoot bathtub in the main bathroom. I could imagine spending hours soaking in there after a long day at work or dancing.
“Will you require an application package?” the real estate agent queries.
“And that’s the very last box.” Harlow plops onto my red suede sofa while blowing her hair out of her eyes.
We’ve spent the majority of our morning moving into my new apartment. Because I was miraculously the sole applicant, my application was approved the next day. After paying a deposit and one month rent in advance, I picked up the keys the following morning, but with Alex’s stringent work regime, I’ve only moved in now, three weeks later.
“Can you smell that?” Harlow eyes me curiously while taking in a large whiff through her nose. “That’s the smell of freedom!”
I giggle at her comment, even though she’s accurate. I love Regina. She’s like the mother I never had, but no self-respecting twenty-five-year-old likes living with their mother. Although I rarely have the opportunity to go out on dates, it’s nice to know I can invite private companions to my residence if I want to. Why was Isaac’s face the first one to pop into my head during that thought?
Harlow returns my head from the clouds. “Speaking of freedom, did you get your hard-ass boss to give you the long weekend off?”
“Yes.”
It was as painful as pulling teeth, but after groveling, begging, and pleading, Alex let me have the long weekend off on the condition I work the next four weekends in a row.
“Where are we going again?”
Harlow has nagged me the past three weeks to get the weekend off, but whenever I ask her where we’re going, she only responds with, “It’s a secret.”
Harlow’s eyes dart to mine. If looks could kill, I’d be dead right now. When I stick my tongue out, her face morphs into her adorable smile. Harlow rises from the sofa and saunters to a box of mismatched kitchen accessories.
“What are you looking for?” I question, just as she pulls two coffee mugs out of the box.
“We need something to wash down this overpriced bottle of champagne with.” She raises the bottle of champagne that was sitting on my doorstep this morning.
When I saw the bottle, my heart leaped. Although it still raced when I read the card, it wasn’t as fast as when I discovered the bottle. It was lovely of Cormack to send me a housewarming gift, but when I spotted the bottle sitting on my doorstep, I presumed it was from Isaac.
“Do you think we should drink it?”
I don’t know much about champagne, but considering this one has Dom Perignon written on the label, I’d say it’s expensive.
Harlow doesn’t grace me with a reply. She merely pops open the bottle of champagne and pours us both a generous helping into a pair of dirty old mugs.
“To freedom and expensive bottles of champagne,” she says showily, handing me a chipped mug.
“To freedom.” I take a mouthful of the delicious aromatic champagne.
And to finally being able to entertain special guests.
Chapter 16
Four weeks later…
* * *
“Brandon.” My greeting is drenched with sugary, sappy sweetness.
Prancing my way over to Brandon, I prop myself onto his wooden desk covered with files and blacked-out documents. When his apprehensive hazel eyes lift to mine, I flutter my lashes and purse my lips. To add even more allure to my intricate ruse, I undo the top button of my blouse, daringly exposing a portion of my cleavage scarcely contained in my white lace bra.
I fan my flushed cheeks. “It’s so hot today,” I sigh, fighting the urge to cringe.
I’ve never been good at flirting, and this is by far my worst attempt at seducing somebody.
Brandon gulps as his gleaming eyes rake my body, stopping at my undone button for an appreciative glance before reaching my eyes. His mischievous eyes glimmer with skepticism.
“What do you want, Izzy?” His mouth curves into a vast grin.
I huff. “What gave it away?”
“The greeting was okay. It gained my attention, but you lost me on unbuttoning your shirt and saying it was hot today,” he critiques me. His eyes lower to my undone button before they return to my face. “You do realize summer is over, don’t you, Isabelle?”
“Ha ha.”
Brandon light-heartedly growls when I button my blouse back to a more respectable level, soothing the sting my ego took from my botched attempt at seducing him.
“So, what brought you strutting over to my desk?”
Air whizzes between my teeth. “I wasn’t strutting.”
“You were strutting. The hips were swinging, and you had an extra spring in your step. Total strut,” he teases me.
My lips tug higher on my face. Obviously, my ruse wasn’t that ineffective.
“I’m glad you took such detailed notes of my performance.”
When I close my fist and punch Brandon in the bicep, he chuckles before rubbing his arm. Brandon isn’t as built as some of the other male agents, but I have no doubt he can hold his own. People are less suspicious of the smaller guy, unaware they’re usually the ones who pack the hardest punch.
My anxious eyes dart around the room before returning to Brandon’s. “I need a favor.”
“Anything,” he replies without a moment of reluctance.
