The Wedding: Enigma, #17

by Shandi Boyes

  I slump low in my office chair at the Dungeon. Smugness is all over my face. “I told you I have persuasive techniques.”

  She gags and rolls her eyes. I smirk, loving that not even being saddled down with a man way below her league has stifled her pompousness. Upon spotting my smile, Regan showcases her attitude in all its glory.

  “I wouldn’t be bragging, Isaac. Six months isn’t something to brag about. I would have done it in three.”

  That wipes the smirk right off my face, although it doesn’t leash my natural dominance. “Says the lady who ran back to Texas to hide for almost a year.”

  Her eyes snap to mine quicker than a bullet fired from a gun. “I did that for you.” Her take-no-shit-from-no-one stance is hardening her spine, but it doesn’t stop her from whispering, “I also couldn’t control myself around him.” She twists her lips. “Or should I say, can’t control myself around him?”

  I arch my brow, suddenly mindful I may have miscalculated her relationship with Alex last week. I thought she was the alpha in their duo. Now I’m not one hundred percent convinced.

  “He’s your Achilles heel.” I’m not asking a question. I’m stating a fact.

  It kills her to do, but she nods. It’s only a single bob, but it’s a massive step for a woman as dominant and controlling as Regan.

  “Perhaps Hugo was right? Maybe not all mistakes are unfixable?” I shift my eyes to the document she’s grasping to near death, announcing my saying has a double meaning. It might have taken longer for me to fix the error I made than I would have liked, but the signed prenup was worth the delay. “I have two empty seats in the jet if you and Alex would like to travel to Hugo’s wedding with us.”

  Regan looks shocked. Rightfully so. Even with Alex no longer helming the FBI division investigating me, there’s a lot of water under our bridge—enough I doubt we’ll ever be considered friends—but that doesn’t mean I can’t understand his importance to Regan. She’s my lawyer, but she is also my friend.

  Alex makes her happy, and the way he stopped her from quitting six months ago is proof of this. Furthermore, I pay Regan well enough she can have anything she craves. Alex gives her the one thing money can’t buy—love.

  It’s the same for Isabelle and me.

  That’s why I want Isabelle to have everything I have. Because without her in my life, everything would be worthless. I wasn’t being deceitful when I said before Isabelle, my every accomplishment was measured by my wealth, business, and reputation. Now, it’s how many times she smiles and the quiet mutterings she does under her breath when she thinks no one is listening.

  Isabelle has no qualms declaring her love of me, but it’s her babbling I pay the most attention to. It exposes the real Isabelle, the rough diamond who’s slowly being polished to showcase all her brilliance.

  My eyes float up to Regan when she says, “Thanks for the offer, but your jet only comes with one bed, and I’m more than aware how you plan to subdue Izzy’s panic of flying.”

  I waggle my brows, not the least bit confronted by her paling cheeks. It hides the whitening my gills got when my brain finally clicked onto the innuendo in her tone. She wouldn’t need to be worried about my jet only having one bed unless she’s planning to use one during transport.

  “Do you want me to charter a third jet? Cormack already has his own going in the air.” My teeth grit at the end of my statement.

  Little did I know while claiming Isabelle as mine for the first time in the private jet on our return trip from Mummon Koti that Cormack had done the same with Harlow on our flight to Mummon Koti. Thank god the sheets were changed, or we would have had words about protocol during joint trips.

  Regan props her hip on the corner of my desk. “I’m not even going to comment on how ridiculous it is that you’d even consider taking three jets to one location. I know how much money you have, so I know it isn’t above your means, but I will say it’s okay. Alex and I don’t mind flying commercial.” Her unapologetic smile sends a signal to my ears to shut down, but before they can, she mutters, “Wondering if our rendezvous will be busted by a stewardess or fellow passengers adds an element of excitement to our exchanges.”

  “And here you were worried I’d sully Alex’s reputation,” I grumble under my breath.

  Regan laughs, taking my comment as I had intended—playfully. “Don’t act like public displays of affection aren’t your forte, Isaac. I heard all about your escapades at a certain gala that’s not to be mentioned since it was also the night you showcased that you’re a mere man instead of an enigma.”

  Until two seconds ago, I wouldn’t have thought it was possible to get turned on and pissed off at the same time. Regan just proved I’m wide of the mark. My cock hardened from memories of taking Isabelle in the storage room with thousands of attendees only mere feet away filtering through my brain. However, some of the blood responsible for its firmness softened when I recalled how broken Isabelle looked when she left me that very same night.

  Clara’s claim of an affair was fortunately squashed by Harlow, of all people, but it still grates my last nerve she went down that route to begin with. Cormack is in the process of teaching her a lesson. I just hope it’s taught before it is too late for her.

  “The offer remains if you change your mind.”

  Regan lifts her chin, her smile grateful. “So… when’s the big day?”

  A grin tugs my lips high. Isabelle and I discussed wedding dates last night as we do all the important matters in our relationship—naked. “We have a few dates in the pipeline.”

  The endorphins thickening my veins slacken a little. “Isabelle has only just started at Ravenshoe PD, so she can’t take many days off, and things are always crazy for me until Labor Day. If that isn’t bad enough, Nick threw a wrench in the works yesterday by announcing Rise Up is going on tour in two months. That brings us until almost Christmas.”

  “We will find a suitable date, we’ve just got to synchronize everyone’s calendars first.”

  I open the planner on my desk, groaning when I see how hectic it is. Nearly every weekend for the next twelve months is blacked out with an event or an important business endeavor I can’t set aside for longer than I already have. My capital has taken a hit since Isabelle entered my life, but I’m not the least bit worried. She’s worth more than all the billions I have in my bank.

  Regan chuckles at the groan I release when she says, “You do know most weddings take months to plan? This isn’t something that will happen within the next month or two.”

  I give her a look as if to say, like hell it will take months. I’ve waited months already. I’m not delaying this for a second longer.

  “We just need an hour or two to sit and work out all the details…”

  I stop listening to Regan’s snickers about how ridiculous I’m being when I stumble across a handwritten note I scribbled in my planner weeks ago. Usually, Catherine handles my business matters, but since this was personal, I penciled it in myself.

  I check my watch, noting I still have enough time to make my appointment if I leave now. Regan watches me with wide, panicked eyes when I make my way to the coat rack in the corner of my office to snag my jacket.

  “Please don’t tell me you’re rushing her to the courthouse now. Izzy deserves better than a quickie wedding—”

  I cut her off with a stern glare. “I’d never be so heinous.” When her brow becomes lost in her platinum blonde locks, I snicker, “After I wed her in the City Clerk’s Office, I’d throw her the best afterparty money could buy.” I wait for her face to finish morphing into shock before hitting her with a frisky wink. It’s closely followed by honesty. “Isabelle is at work. If she weren’t, I wouldn’t be here. I have an appointment I forgot about.”

  “You, the Isaac Holt, forgot an appointment?” While clutching her necklace, she scoffs. “Surely, not.”

  I’d take a moment to relish in the humor in her tone if I had time. I’m also eager to leave before she discov
ers it isn’t just forgetfulness instigating the shake of my hands. It’s wondering if I’m on the verge of breaking a promise I made to Isabelle. One that will expose why I wanted our prenup drafted as it was.

  After putting on my suit jacket, I pivot to face Regan. “As it stands now, will our prenup hold up in court if we were never to marry?”

  She appears stumped by my question, but she has her game face on. “We altered the wording a little, so your relationship became a codified status upon signing. It would be hard for anyone to challenge it, but why does that matter, Isaac? This is a prenuptial agreement, not a will.”

  Since this is Regan, and she’s bound by a code of ethics, I speak freely, “Because this isn’t about the division of my assets if I were to die. It’s if I’m forced to leave Isabelle while I’m still breathing.”

  Shocked and frozen in place, she watches me stride out of my office door, aware that death and not being with Isabelle is the same thing to me.

  Upon spotting my brisk strides across the mahogany dance floor of my club, Tina darts out from behind the bar. “Boss, I wanted to check numbers with you—”

  “Can it wait? I have an important meeting to attend.”

  She takes my curt tone in stride. It’s nothing out of the ordinary for her as of late. I’ve always been a bit brutish with my staff, but Tina has my usually serene demeanor faltering the past few months. No matter how influential Isabelle has been to my life, Tina still treats her as an outsider.

  I wonder if her disdain will change when she discovers Isabelle will have more stake in the Dungeon than me when Regan files the documents I just handed her? I won’t have long to find out. Once the forms are processed, Regan will commence altering all formal documentation, including the proprietor name above the door of the very club we’re standing in.

  Tina’s firm stance withers like a picked flower on a hot summer’s day when she’s subjected to my rueful glare. “I guess it can wait.”

  I dip my chin in thanks. “Good. I’ll be with Roger if you need me, but I’d prefer you not contact me unless it’s urgent.”

  “Unless it’s regarding Isabelle, right?”

  She whispered her comment, but it isn’t quiet enough to leash my retaliation. When I turn to face her, she rolls her shoulders, revealing inches of the smooth skin on her stomach her midriff top and micro denim shorts have no chance of hiding.

  Tina has the right to act barefaced. Before Isabelle came into my life, no woman bar her was capable of keeping up with me in the bedroom. That’s a thing of the past now, though. I had no clue of the full strength of my sexual proficiencies until Isabelle unleashed it.

  She not only brought out a side of me no other woman had ever seen, she unearthed parts of me I didn’t know existed. She completes me in a way I never knew I needed but crave more than anything, so I refuse to stand by and watch her be disrespected by anyone, much less someone I pay to work for me.

  Tina’s eagerness to please me pops a brilliant idea into my head.

  “With Hugo returning to his role in Ravenshoe, I’m without an operations manager for my New York clubs. With the cost of living higher in New York, the salary offered for the position will reflect that, so keep that in mind when you go over the offer Regan sends you later today. It comes with an apartment close by, including services.”

  Excitement blisters across Tina’s features until the entirety of my offer crashes into her. “We’ll still work together as we do now, right? You monitor your interstate companies as regularly as you do your home-based ones.”

  The panic in her eyes implodes when I shake my head. “Not anymore, I won’t be. With Isabelle’s recent placement at Ravenshoe PD hogging her time and Callie preparing to commence school next year, I’d prefer to stay close to Ravenshoe. That’s why I need someone at the helm capable of running things how I like. That could be you—if you can remember your place.”

  “My place?”

  I don’t reply to her question. I don’t need to. The anger lining her face reveals she heard the words I can’t speak unless I want to face a workplace harassment claim.

  After taking a step closer to me, she splays her hands across her cocked hips. “We’ve worked together for years, Isaac. I was here years before Isabelle, and I’ll be here years after she leaves.”

  My ticking jaw echoes in my reply. “Even if Isabelle hadn’t agreed to become my wife, she’s not going anywhere.”

  Tina balks as if this is the first time she’s heard about my wish to marry Isabelle. It isn’t. She’s just a good actor.

  “You have until close of business Friday to make your decision.” While pacing to the exit, I text Regan a message to forward Tina an offer for the position of operations manager for the New York division of my clubs.

  My brisk pace slows when Tina asks, “What if I refuse your offer?”

  When I crank my neck back to peer at her, her attitude takes a step back. She’s not in a position to instigate ultimatums. Those, just like the appendage between my legs, solely belong to Isabelle.

  Her mouth falls open when I state matter-of-factly, “Then I’ll forward you a severance package instead of a counterbid.”

  With that, I leave. I’ve never felt the need to explain any business decisions I make, so I won’t start now. It was stupid for me to sleep with an employee, but with Tina’s claws hidden by eagerness, I thought she understood our arrangement.

  In the two years she worked for me before we visited my ‘fuck pad,’ Tina saw me with many women, so I assumed she understood how I operated. I guess even the most confident person has trouble swallowing rejection. It most certainly singed my throat the night Isabelle failed to return to her apartment when I was endeavoring to keep Col off her tail.

  I’ve never wanted to kill a man as much as I did when I heard a raspy male voice sound down the line when Isabelle called Harlow’s bakery. It was the voice of an exhausted man, similar to the one I had this morning after taking Isabelle to the brink at three o’clock to ensure we weren’t disturbed by Callie before I had my fill.

  Roger’s eyes pop up from the paper he’s reading when he notices my approach. An average man would accuse him of slacking off while on the job. I’m not an ordinary man. Even with him doing the left to right sweep Isabelle is trained to look for, he was monitoring his surroundings. It’s a habit he had long before he joined my empire.

  Once I’m buckled in, I request Roger to take me to Ravenshoe Private Hospital. When my Bentley fails to emerge into the traffic that always impedes the streets of Ravenshoe shortly after, I seek his gaze in the rearview mirror. He’s watching me with concerned, watering eyes.

  “Is everything okay, boss?”

  The dip in his tone exposes he knows I hate being questioned by my staff. If I request you to do something, you do it, no questions asked, but he must be feeling the sentiment pumping out of me. I rarely grow worried. My reputation is as fierce as it is because nothing daunts me—except this.

  “Everything is fine.” I nudge my head, telling him to go, refusing to answer to a member of my staff for a second longer.

  Twenty minutes later, we’ve traveled the five miles between my nightclub and Ravenshoe Private Hospital. I haven’t been here at this time of the day since I confronted Jacob about the fight he demanded I organize with the Constrictor. I acted like an egotistical asshole that afternoon. I hadn’t had Isabelle beneath me for over a week because of Clara’s claim we had slept together, and the hospital corridor Jacob and I were arguing in was oddly similar to the one I paced the night of Ophelia’s supposed ‘accident.’ Add that mess to Emily’s uncanny resemblance to Ophelia, and the entire situation was unprecedented.

  In the end, it all worked out okay. I fought the Constrictor and won, and Clara’s claims were found to be untrue. Even finding out Ophelia was alive barely created a bump in my relationship with Isabelle. It’s been full speed ahead since day one. I’m not surprised. I operate on instincts, and nothing could quell my urge to hav
e her beneath me. If she hadn’t been on her period in that washroom thirty thousand feet in the air, I would have claimed her as mine then.

  Alas, fate had other plans.

  When we arrive at Ravenshoe Private Hospital, I shift my eyes to Roger. “Circle the block. I won’t be long.”

  There’s a multistory parking lot next to the hospital, but I’d rather Roger stay close in case I need to leave quickly. Although homicide was marked on Megan’s death certificate months ago, until a body is found, I’ll forever remain on alert. Just like Isabelle and Callie’s protection is my utmost priority, so is Nick’s. He saved my life, so the least I could do is ensure his is never in jeopardy.

  Several pairs of eyes track me as I move through the lobby of the hospital. The attention doesn’t bother me. I’ve grown accustomed to the admired glances I get, but it’s grown more tenacious since Isabelle became a part of my life. Now I don’t just get the venerated eyes of women vying to warm my sheets and men who’d do anything to be me, I have to contend with ones wary on the lengths I’ll go to protect those I love.

  They’ve read the reports, so they think they know me. Little do they know, just like the FBI’s file on the supposed man I am is false, so are the myths on the cleanliness of my hands. For now, they’re clean, but they won’t be if I’m forced to prove how far I’ll go to protect those I love.

  Jae’s receptionist greets me with a friendly smile when she notices my entrance to the doctors’ offices at the back of the lobby. Although this is an official visit, I refuse to sit in the chair Jae’s regular patients do. She rarely sees patients anymore. She’s too busy being the head of surgery, and doesn’t have time for finicky issues.

  “Hey there, doll face.”

  I smirk at her infamous nickname before entering her office and closing the door behind me. “Can we make this quick? Catherine collected Callie from preschool, but I promised to be home before dinner. Considering she thinks seven is late, I’m burning the candle at both ends.”