The Wedding: Enigma, #17

by Shandi Boyes

  Both excitement and hesitation cross my features. I hate being teased, but when Isaac does it, I’ll suffer the injustice as the reward always far exceeds the annoyance.

  “You leased your fuck pad. It’s no longer empty.”

  Eagerness overtakes my annoyance when he growls. “I own the building. I’m sure I can find a vacant apartment to utilize for a few hours.”

  He’s not impatient to take our gathering to a private location. He wants to sustain my orgasms like he did the day he heard Alex’s groggy voice sound down the line. This isn’t just about what I witnessed earlier this evening. He knows Brandon is back in town.

  “How do you know—”

  When he enters me without warning, my nails bend harshly from jabbing them into his thick shoulders. His entrance was unexpected but highly craved.

  His hot breath fans my neck with air when he says, “Let’s finish one conversation before starting another.”

  I don’t know how he’s expecting me to talk. Almost every glorious inch of him is inside of me. Talking is above my caliber right now. Hell, even breathing is.

  “Isabelle…”

  His growl makes things ten times worse. Sweat rolls down my back from the stifling energy zapping between us, and all my muscles tighten.

  “I didn’t hear much. Something about your file being forwarded to Dr. Jae, and that you didn’t want to put me through something.”

  “And?” He fucks me as if he isn’t interrogating me at the same time. The pumps of his big cock are relentless, and they soon have me seeing stars. “What else?”

  My voice is as high as my wish to come. “That’s all I heard. The rest of your conversation was garbled by your car door.”

  After weaving his fingers through my soaked-at-the-roots locks, he demands my eyes to his. When he gets them, he slows the grinds of his hips. He’s still fucking me, just not at the uncontrolled, manic pace he was doing mere seconds ago. It’s a beautiful mix of speed and talent that has the coil in my womb twisting quickly.

  The cogs slot into place as he strives to work out how to ask his next question without starting a fight. We’ve fought enough and had way too many outside influences come between us, so we agreed to no more fighting. If we want to know something, we ask. We don’t spy, snoop, or keep secrets.

  That knowledge frees me to ask, “Why were you visiting an oncologist today? Are you sick again? Is that why you’ve been acting funny lately?”

  “Isabelle…” This groan isn’t in annoyance. He’s panicked about the moisture pooling in my eyes. Ophelia’s life may not have perished the night he saw her with nothing but a torrent of tears streaming down her face, but that doesn’t mean he can’t hate my tears. “… please don’t cry.”

  He ensures the only cries I release are those in ecstasy by lowering his hand to the area where our bodies are intimately joined. Excitement sweeps across my belly when he circles the bundle of nerves between my legs. It’s a slow, breathtaking orgasm that should steal the worry from my mind as quickly as his whispered promises that everything will be okay. But, for once, my love for this man outshines my desires.

  “I need to know, Isaac. If you’re sick, I need time to process my worry before working out how I’ll fight alongside you through this.” I talk through the intense swirls of my stomach. “I love you so much, just the thought of you being sick makes me want to be physically ill.”

  He pulls my mouth to his by the back of my head and gives me one of the most intense kisses I’ve ever been given. He holds nothing back, showcasing he isn’t just talented in the bedroom but has the romance department down pat as well.

  After kissing me so senseless, the heat of our exchange dries the wetness in my eyes, he braces his forehead against mine. Isaac is still inside of me, but since he isn’t thrusting his hips, the dense cloud of lust that forever bombards me when he’s near isn’t as potent. It makes me feel grown-up like we’re close to having an adult conversation without needing to maul each other in the process.

  “I was born a fighter, Isabelle. Whether in the ring or outside of it, I’ll never stop fighting.”

  My breath hitches in my throat as horrid thought after horrid thought fills my head. He didn’t confirm he’s sick, but he didn’t deny it, either.

  “But, in saying that, there’s only one thing I’m fighting for right now.”

  He pauses, building the suspense. I’d beg him to continue if I could talk through the lump in my throat.

  After what feels like hours, but is mere seconds, he murmurs, “You, Isabelle. I’m fighting for you.”

  I love the desperateness in his voice, but it doesn’t weaken my panic. “You already have me, Isaac.”

  He shakes his head, denying my claims. “When you left me to go back to Tiburon—” When I attempt to interrupt him, to advise I never left him, he cuts me off with a stern glare. “I promised to show you how you could have both your dreams and me.”

  “And you’ve done precisely that.” Even with my voice husky from the moans released at the start of our exchange, the honesty in it can’t be missed.

  “You said I stole your career, your wish to have a family, and almost your life.”

  “I didn’t mean what I said. I was frustrated and hurt.” As I am now. This is one of the many things I feel guilty about.

  “That doesn’t make them untrue, Isabelle. I did take those things from you.”

  I cup his cheeks. I feel the love I have for this man shuddering up my arms. I wasn’t lying when I said the idea of losing him makes me unwell. “And you gave them all back. I have everything I’ve ever wanted, thanks to you.”

  I freeze when he says, “Except a family.” He gathers my hands from his face, kisses each palm, then places them over his chest. “When I made the decision I did, I never thought this type of love was possible. I wasn’t seeking nor wanting anyone permanent in my life. You flipped everything I knew on its head more than once. But I can fix the mistakes I’ve made, Isabelle. I can make them right.”

  “How?” I’m not overly familiar with the male anatomy, but I’m reasonably sure once you’re sterile, there’s no turning back.

  “I can have my procedure reversed.”

  I smile at the uncomfortable delivery of his words. It’s wiped off my face when his cock softens during his confession. I didn’t think anything made Isaac nervous, but the prospect of his manhood going under the knife is a good reason to change things up.

  “Jae’s worried the illness I had in my childhood limits the chance of a successful outcome, but I’m willing to take a risk.”

  His comment floods my heart with love, but it isn’t him. “You’re not a risk-taker, Isaac. You make controlled, rational decisions. It’s why your empire is so successful.”

  His smirk kills me every time. It steals my hesitation before making me hot all over. “Yet my biggest risk was by far my most rewarding. Not a single asset I’ve acquired is more valuable than you, Isabelle.”

  I press my lips to his. The confirmation in his eyes when he stares at me is too deserving of a half-hearted reply. My kiss causes an avalanche of hands, tongues, and teeth. We maul each other like we suppressed the urge to drive each other to the brink in the wee hours of this morning. We didn’t, but we don’t care.

  “Callie is asleep, so tell Roger to take the long route home,” I murmur over his kiss-swollen lips.

  The stubble on his chin scrapes my neck when he drags his lips to my ear. “I already did.”

  Not even half a mile later, we’re lost in one another.

  8

  Isabelle

  A truth shared is a hurt halved.

  * * *

  We made it in time for dinner. It wasn’t an easy task. Isaac isn’t a man who understands the word ‘quickie.’ If I hadn’t reminded him of our promise to have dinner with Callie and tuck her into bed, we may not have.

  With our night taken up by a toddler who wasn’t tired since she had a two-hour nap on her bedroom floor and
our frantic rush to make our seven AM flight on time, we haven’t had time to discuss why jealousy commenced our exchange last night before an undeniable declaration of love utterly annihilated it.

  We’ve fooled around in numerous modes of transport, but last night went above and beyond anything I’ve experienced—even our first time in the plane, which I’m recalling in graphic detail while climbing the stairs of one of Isaac’s private jets.

  Isaac is holding my hand as he always does, coaxing me with his soul-stealing gray eyes, but with Callie’s fear as strong as mine, I’ve got to force my legs to move instead of having them swept out from beneath me.

  Callie’s fear is understandable. The last time she was bundled into a plane, it was by two big burly men she’d never met before. If her guardian angel wasn’t at the other end waiting for her, I doubt we would have entered this plane without her releasing the tears her eyes are struggling to contain.

  “It’s okay, Callie Cat. Isaac will never let anything happen to you.”

  Isaac squeezes my sweaty hand, wordlessly advising me my assurance goes both ways. He might have Callie clinging to his chest, but he’s here for us both. The way he carefully places Callie into the specially-built child restraint he had installed for her before assisting me in securing my belt proves this without a doubt.

  “Breathe, Isabelle. Big, controlled breaths.” My body instinctively jumps to the clipped command in his tone. The fresh air in my lungs feels revitalizing, but it has nothing on the smirk Isaac releases at my submissiveness. “Good girl.”

  He brushes the back of his fingers across my thankfully dry cheeks before filling the seat between Callie and me. We’re taking up the only three-seater chair at the back of the jet. Hunter, his girlfriend, Paige, Dr. Jae, Catherine, and Hawke are in the recliners at the front.

  Hawke’s inclusion in our dynamic was a last-minute decision. The bobbing of his knee reveals he’s as nervous as me. His apprehension centers more around returning to Rochdale, though, not a fear of flying. From what I’ve gathered, he hasn’t been back there since his wife, Marjorie, and still-born son, Malcolm, were buried.

  My eyes drift to Isaac. “Is Hawke going to be okay?”

  I’m not just deflecting my panic to another person. I’m feeding my quintessential need to know everything. Although Isaac hasn’t technically experienced the loss of a partner—Ophelia never died—he still has an understanding of what Hawke is going through. It is, at times, as if Ophelia is still deceased. Excluding the results of the paternity test of her son, Bobby, Isaac never talks about her. Not once. I’d be suspicious if I weren’t more relieved.

  Isaac takes a few moments to deliberate on a response before shifting his focus to me. “I think so. Today is a big step. Since it’s in the right direction, I can’t see it doing him more harm than good.” His gorgeous eyes dance between mine. “What about you? Are you going to be okay?”

  The crinkles in his trousers smooth when I smile. “Why wouldn’t I be? I have you by my side.”

  I tilt to the left so I can lock my eyes with Callie, who is hidden by Isaac’s mouthwatering frame, wanting her to be a part of our duo. She’s out cold, snuggled into her stuffed bunny. Once again, I understand. Bravery is the most exhausting of all emotions.

  Now is a perfect time to recommence the conversation Isaac and I were having last night, but with my mind still reeling that he’s willing to have his vasectomy reversed for me, I steer it in another direction.

  “I’m assuming the pissing contest you had with Ryan yesterday means you’re aware Brandon is back in town.” Although I’m not technically asking a question, Isaac dips his chin in agreement. “Who told you?”

  He shrugs like it’s no big deal he’s informed everything as it’s happening. “Ryan called Regan—"

  “Regan?” I’m so bombarded by confusion, I barely notice the plane has commenced taxiing toward the runway. “I thought he called Alex?”

  Isaac smirks. “He called Regan, but since she was with Alex, and he caught the gist of their conversation, he seconded her phone.”

  “Huh?” I sound shocked. Justly so. “I thought Regan was the alpha of their duo?”

  Untapped desire courses through my veins when Isaac throws his head back and laughs. He has such a manly, sexy laugh. It has me squirming like a saint having her first orgasm. “I thought the same thing. I guess all alphas eventually learn there’s no such thing as superiority when you find the right partner.”

  I pray for the plane to hurry the hell up and get into the sky when he scrubs his thumb over the dip in my top lip. He doesn’t need to speak for me to know the words he’s dying to say—I still want to bite that lip.

  “Isabelle…”

  “Yes, Isaac.” My voice is needy and hot and one hundred percent daft.

  Thank goodness Isaac finds my stupidity endearing. “Ask the questions I see in your eyes before I prove how a little strip of material will never save you from me.”

  Dying in a fiery crash doesn’t seem so sinister if I get to do it while being claimed by Isaac. At least I’ll die happy. Fortunately—or should I say regrettably?—Callie’s faint snores return a smidgen of the composure I forever lose in Isaac’s presence. This is also an important subject matter that shouldn’t be swept under the rug.

  “Did you block Brandon from contacting me?” Nerves jumble my words, but so does confusion. Brandon is a very computer-literate person. If he wanted to find me, he could have found a way, so why didn’t he?

  “I had Hunter install an app on your phone which monitors and blocks calls and messages if required.” Isaac talks quicker when my lips thin. “But I’ve yet to utilize it. I’m trying to quell my vehement jealousy when it comes to you. It’s a slow process.”

  Grateful he’s at least trying, I give his snooping ways some leeway. “What about snail-mail? Emails?”

  His ticking jaw is heard in his reply. “Although I’d rather Brandon not reach out to you at all, I haven’t interfered with him contacting you in any way.”

  Isaac’s dislike for Brandon grows when he sees how much his statement hurts me. I thought Brandon was my friend. He always had my back, and I had every intention of having his until he vanished without a trace.

  Confident I’m not a horrible friend, I try to downplay Brandon’s lack of contact. “Perhaps he was undercover, and it was too risky to contact me?”

  “Or perhaps he isn’t the man you think he is.” Isaac’s tone still has the authoritative edge it always has, but with a snippet of annoyance. “Have you ever wondered how he got the photo of Ophelia he gave you?”

  I shake my head, truly baffled. “I assumed he found it in my uncle’s files.”

  Isaac’s brow arches sardonically. “In the files you went to Tiburon to retrieve? The ones Brandon didn’t have access to?”

  I often feel stupid around Isaac, but nowhere near as much as I do now. “Alex was only interested in the files that surrounded you. Because Ophelia’s death was kept a secret, those files wouldn’t have been seconded to our division.”

  The harshness on Isaac’s face softens. “My point exactly. Brandon had no reason to investigate Ophelia or your uncle. He merely stumbled upon something while snooping for information on both of us.”

  My heart rate skyrockets. “Us?”

  Isaac nods without pause for thought. “Brandon didn’t want to take me down, Isabelle. He wanted to come between us.”

  “Brandon was jealous of you, Isaac, but I don’t see him purposely setting out to antagonize anyone, especially me.”

  “Especially you? Shouldn’t that answer my suspicions without needing additional clarification.” I’d usually find his jealousy hot, but today, it is more confronting than libido-spiking. “He helped you more than a standard agent would. Went beyond protocol to ensure you didn’t face either the IA’s prosecution or those brought forward by the courts and for what? Because you made sure his coffee had an extra clump of sugar?”

  I shoot him a wr
y look. My glorified coffee-girl months still irk my nerves, and he’s more than aware of that. “He was my friend—”

  “Who didn’t know a single thing about you, except your mutual dislike of the man in charge of your division.”

  Even with the plane not fully ascended, Isaac releases his seat belt so he can gather the tablet he’s rarely without lately. It isn’t your standard iPad or universal tablet but a prototype Hunter designed from scratch. It’s so advanced, NASA technicians would cream their pants to get their hands on it.

  “Do you recall what happened when we bumped into each other at the airport?”

  The last of the strain on his face clears away when I jest, “Your corny how-many-fingers-am-I-holding-up ruse? Or how you shamefully collected my tampons off the floor?” I don’t want us to fight. We’ve fought enough.

  Even with his gills whitening, Isaac says, “The last one.” When I nod with a smile, he confesses, “I saw your boarding pass. It told me everything I needed to know to ensure I not only got on the same plane as you but that you were bumped to ride in first class with me.”

  I freeze as a conversation from months ago filters through my mind. “Brandon said Alex paid for my ticket to be upgraded.”

  Never one to sugarcoat things, Isaac states matter-of-factly, “Brandon lied.”

  When he hands me his one-of-a-kind tablet, the same document Brandon showed me at the shady hotel months ago is on the screen, except it doesn’t have Alex’s details in the payee section. One of Isaac’s countless business names is cited—Colt Enterprises.

  “I had your ticket upgraded after purchasing my own. I needed to see if the connection we had was because your fear sparked my incessant need to help others, or if it was something much more.”

  He doesn’t need to say it was much more than he ever comprehended. His eyes divulge the entire story. Isaac has the right to strut like a peacock, but the only time his feathers fan is when he’s referencing our relationship. I love that.