The Wedding: Enigma, #17

by Shandi Boyes

  Isabelle twists her lips as if she isn’t convinced. I’m sure I can persuade her otherwise. I have that type of advantage over her.

  “She’s just jealous of you.” I hit her with a frisky wink. It brings back the smile I’d kill for. “Can you blame her?”

  Coyness and playfulness surge through her blood at the same time. “Have you been hanging out with Colby, Isaac? His cockiness must have rubbed off on you.”

  The tick impinging my jaw is heard in my reply. “Better than what he wants to rub against you.”

  My teeth grit when she has the audacity to wink at me. If I weren’t aware she’s being playful, I’d have Levi recommence negotiations to buy out Harlow’s bakery. Harlow’s constant assurance to Isabelle that jealousy sex is by far the best sex is thinning my patience. I’m not a patient man as it is, much less when it comes to Isabelle.

  “Callie Cat…” Isabelle’s use of Callie’s nickname softens the little groove between a set of eyes identical to her big sister’s in every way. “I think I saw a park on the way to the hotel.” The excitement in Isabelle’s voice has Callie’s breathing picking up. “Did you see it, too?”

  This, right here, is why I sought advice on having my vasectomy reversed. Isabelle thinks her rough, brutish upbringing means she doesn’t have a nurturing side. She does. She just needs people like Callie and Jeremiah to bring it out of her.

  When Callie nods, Isabelle joins her on the floor. She sits cross-legged on a rug in a room that costs more per night than most people’s first car, oddly looking at home. “What are your thoughts on ordering some burgers and fries and taking them to the park to eat them?”

  Callie’s eyes pop up to mine to seek my permission. It’s obvious the first three years of her childhood were controlled by a man. Isabelle and I are endeavoring to change that. As much as I control all aspects of my empire, that no longer extends to my personal life. The two most influential people in my life are female, so the bigamist mindset the Popov entity runs with won’t be acceptable in my life—neither personal nor business.

  Callie’s focus darts back to Isabelle when I dip my chin in agreement. “Can Barry come?”

  Barry is her stuffed bunny.

  Isabelle rakes her finger through Callie’s glossy brown locks. “Of course, he can. I’ll even order him his own plate of carrot sticks.”

  With a giggle as if Isabelle is silly, Callie leaps up to her feet to charge into her room to gather her beloved stuffed rabbit.

  Not even thirty minutes later, we’re strolling toward the park Isabelle mentioned hand in hand. To outsiders, we look like an everyday American family going to enjoy the last rays of a summer sun. Only I know how starkly contradicting things could have been if Tobias hadn’t stepped up to the plate as I did for Callie.

  Just as we find the perfect blades of grass to eat on, my cell phone buzzes. Since it’s my regular cell, I could answer it later, but a niggle in my gut is warning me it would be erroneous of me to do.

  I hold my finger in the air. “I’ll be just a minute.”

  Isabelle nods before helping Callie fold out the picnic blanket the concierge lent us. When I pull my phone out of my pocket, it advises I have a missed call from Hunter and a text message from Regan. I veer toward the lesser of two evils by opening Regan’s message.

  Regan: Tina resigned.

  I shouldn’t sigh in relief, but I do. Things have been hostile since our exchange in the hub of my nightclub last month, but since I didn’t have the time nor the patience to deal with her theatrics, her concerns were shifted to Regan.

  Aware Tina’s resignation wouldn’t have occurred if Isabelle hadn’t become a part of my life, I grant unscripted leniency.

  Me: Good, but still forward her the severance package as drawn up last month. I’d like things to remain amicable between us.

  Money doesn’t buy loyalty, but it keeps mouths I don’t want opened, closed. Isabelle is smart, she knows there’s more to Tina’s dislike than an inability to compete against her, but I’d rather not have that spelled out in print. We were facing daily exaggerated accounts about our supposed shotgun relationship.

  The heat only cooled when news of Cormack being left at the altar reached the front page of every magazine in the country. His billionaire status already had him being hounded by the media without adding the failure to nab a humble baker with a meager existence as his wife.

  He could have drained the scandal from their stories as quickly as he did Clara’s bank accounts, but he didn’t want to take a leaf out of his father’s book. He wanted to create his own story. If the blush on Harlow’s cheeks when we crossed paths at the private airstrip earlier today was anything to go by, he’s doing precisely that.

  I’m drawn from my thoughts by my cell pinging with a returned text.

  Regan: Will do my best, but I’ll be honest, I don’t like my chances.

  I jab my thumbs into my phone screen so forcefully, I’m surprised it doesn’t crack.

  Me: Anything I should know about?

  Regan returns my message remarkably quickly.

  Regan: No. But if anything changes, I’ll let you know. See you tomorrow.

  Ten seconds ago, I would have said you couldn’t hear sentiment in a text message. Now I know I’m mistaken. She’s biting at the bit to arrive in New York tomorrow. Not because she’s dying to see Hugo wed, but because she’s eager to rejoin the mile-high club.

  Pretending my skin isn’t crawling, I return Regan’s text before dialing Hunter’s cell. He answers two rings later, sounding breathless. It makes me smile. His work ethic the past seven months has been so meticulous, I was beginning to wonder if he has any fun.

  “Busy?” Mirth highlights my usually strict, decorous tone.

  Hunter’s laugh is as airless as his lungs sound. “Something like that.”

  He whispers something to Paige. I’d rather not repeat what he says, or my dick will go on hiatus weeks earlier than planned. Jae isn’t convinced I should go the vasectomy route, but I’m willing to give it a chance. I’ll do anything if it stops me from not keeping my word to Isabelle.

  I press my phone in close to my ear when Hunter says, “I heard back from my contact in the Popov compound. Someone in the Popov entity forwarded the files to the Ravenshoe PD.”

  “Traceable IP?” I sound shocked. Rightfully so. Vladimir is infamous for massive paper trails, but that doesn’t mean he’s lenient on digital security.

  When traffic roars down the line, I shift my eyes to my hotel. Now I need something to remove Hunter’s image from my mind as well as his words. He’s standing on the balcony of his hotel suite, wearing nothing but a bedsheet. Not distance nor his thick beard can hide his smile when he catches my rueful glare.

  “It’s hot in my suite, figured some fresh air would help.”

  My growl chops up my words. “Or you could just turn up the AC.”

  After chuckling loud enough I hear it twice, Hunter gets back to the task at hand. “The server used is one I designed. It’s not available on the retail market.”

  My grin is as smug as his tone. “They took your bait?”

  I can feel Hunter’s arrogance from where I’m standing. “Hook, line, and sinker.”

  “Good.” My heart rate climbs as my expectations soar. We laid a trap, and the Popovs just walked straight into it. “Keep a close eye on Enrique. If he steps foot back in Ravenshoe, I want to know before anyone else.”

  I see Hunter’s acknowledgment more than I hear it. It has me pivoting around remarkably fast. “Any word on Brandon?”

  A scratching noise resonates down the line. Most likely Hunter scratching at his thick beard. “Excluding a six-hour nap at a hotel in town last night, he didn’t leave Ravenshoe PD.”

  I shouldn’t smirk like a conceited prick, but I do. I get great pleasure from Brandon’s loneliness.

  “Okay, good. Same goes for him as Enrique. I know you’re in New York, but I need your eyes in Ravenshoe. It could be a coincidence
a Russian entity is attempting to get a stronghold on Hopeton mere weeks after Enrique’s visit, but I don’t want to take any chances. I ran one mob stronghold out of my town years ago. I won’t hesitate doing it again.”

  “I’ve got your bases covered, boss. You have nothing to worry about.”

  Certain he does, I disconnect our call before joining my family for an impromptu picnic under the low-hanging summer sun.

  12

  Isaac

  A whisper can be more powerful than a thousand words.

  * * *

  Several hours later, I tuck an exhausted Callie into the double bed in her room. Her hair looks extra dark against the crisp white sheets, and the pillows are almost as big as her. With her hands stuffed under her cheek and her bunny nestled under her chin, she strays her drooping eyes to me.

  When I run the back of my index finger down her nose, her eyelids droop even more. After another two runs, her eyes slowly taper close, and her breathing shallows.

  “Goodnight, Callie Cat.”

  I make my way to the door to switch off the light. Just before I exit her room, leaving her door partially opened as she likes, Callie whispers, “Goodnight, Daddy.”

  A tangle of emotions hold me hostage for the next several minutes. I knew from the moment I peered at her big chocolate eyes in the passport photographs I had her handlers in Vegas take, she’d have the ability to expose the real Isaac Holt, the one I hide from the men determined to decimate me. Now I know without a doubt my suspicions were true.

  There’s no fear associated with my knowledge. If anything, I feel more powerful than ever. Family isn’t the people related to you by blood, they’re the people you choose to be a part of your inner circle, the ones who are more important to you than anything, the people you protect no matter the cost—my family.

  A new type of emotion freezes me when I enter the main bedroom of our suite. Isabelle is in the bathtub. Her dark locks are held off her neck with an alligator clip, and bubbles are covering almost every inch of her delicate body. Only the smallest curves of her luscious tits are exposed.

  When she spots my imprudent stare, she lazily cranks her neck my way. “See something you like?” she asks, her voice drenched with sexual ambiguity.

  Winking, I toe off my shoes before tackling the buttons of my dress shirt. A smirk creeps onto my mouth when each button I undo increases the pants of her breath. Our room is already steamy since it’s one of those modern-day suites with a bath in the middle of the room, but she’s made it almost unbearable.

  I could never be accused of lacking confidence. I fought for everything I have—my reputation, empire, and the woman who will soon be my wife—however, that wasn’t because I didn’t have a face that moistened ladies’ panties. Before Isabelle came into my life, my drive forever exceeded my need to gloat. That’s why although I deserve the title of billionaire right alongside Cormack, it’s never been publicized.

  But here, right now, after listening to the sharp intake of air Isabelle sucked in when my trousers glided down my thighs has me wanting to bang my chest, to declare a victory I’ve yet to claim. I want to gloat to the world the game is over because the king has his queen.

  He also has his princess.

  With her eyes arrested on mine, Isabelle scoots forward so I can slot into the tub behind her. The warm water is welcoming to the muscles I plan to exert tonight. It also unravels the veins twisted around my heart, freeing me to say, “Callie called me Daddy,” without an ounce of hesitation.

  “Really?” Water sloshes over the rim of the bath when Isabelle flips onto her stomach to face me. The jealousy I was anticipating to see in her eyes is nowhere to be found. She appears happy, perhaps even smitten.

  I run my thumb across her cheeks, catching the tears that have yet to fall from her eyes. “You’re not mad… or jealous?”

  “No, Isaac. Never.” Isabelle gives it a good fight to hold in her tears before saying, “I agonized for months in the lead up to my tenth birthday party on how I could ask Tobias to be my dad. I wanted to be like the other kids in my grade, to say I had a parent, even if it was only one.” The moisture pooling in her eyes is almost squeezed out by her cheeks rising into a smile. “I also really loved him, and I would have been honored to call him my father.”

  Now her lack of jealousy makes sense. I don’t feel a smidge of annoyance about her declaration of love of her uncle, so why would she be upset about my bond with Callie?

  “Did you ever build up the courage to ask?”

  Isabelle’s smile sags a mere second before she shakes her head. “The ‘No. 1 Dad’ mug I bought one Father’s Day with the nickels Dedushka left around the house still sits wrapped in the bottom of my closet. I wanted to place it in his coffin when he passed, but I didn’t want him to know how silly I had been.”

  “Isabelle…” I want to snap at her not to cry before taking away her pain with my lips. Instead, I comfort her as her equal should. “You should have told him. He would have been honored to call you his daughter as I am to call Callie mine.” I dance my eyes between hers, which are staring up at me in admiration. “Why do you think Tobias never had children?”

  My question was rhetorical, but Isabelle doesn’t take it that way. “Because he was always undercover?”

  “No, Isabelle.” Her nose screws up when my denial comes out with a husky laugh. “It’s because he had you. You were more than he could have ever wanted.”

  My comment has her choking back a sob, but it also eases the pain in her eyes. “If that’s true, why are you looking at having your procedure reversed?”

  “Because I want to give you the world. I can’t do that if I don’t fulfill your every wish.” I didn’t need time to deliberate on my response as it was nothing but honest. I truly do want to give her the world.

  Isabelle slides up my body, so we meet eye to eye. The bath oils slicking her skin aid in her slippery incline. “But you have, Isaac. You’ve given me more than I could have ever imagined.”

  “Except a family.”

  It killed me when she said I had stolen her dreams. Everything I have, I want to share with her, so discovering I might not have the ability to do that utterly destroys me. For years, I’ve lived a selfish life. I put myself above everything and everyone and didn’t care who got hurt in the process.

  I’ve grown and matured since then.

  Before my charity fight with the Constrictor, I said I was too selfish to give Isabelle up, and I’d show her how she could have both me and her dreams. Only now do I realize how erroneous that was for me to say. If you truly love someone, they should come before anything—even you. That’s why I had Regan draw up the prenup as I did. If my reversal fails, I’ll give up Isabelle, so she can have the family she so desperately craves. That’s how much I love her.

  My eyes lower to Isabelle when she says, “I have a family, Isaac. We are a family… you, Callie, and me. You just said so yourself. You’re her daddy, her protector. You are her family.” A fiery glare sparks through her beautiful chocolate eyes. “But she can’t have you without me. We come as a unit. We’re one piece. It may take Callie a little bit of time to adjust, but I’m sure she’ll eventually come around. She’s very clever. She’s already realized blood doesn’t make someone family, but love and support does. And knowing we will be there to hold her hand through any tragedy makes her ours.”

  Isabelle cups my cheeks, pretending her hands aren’t shaking. “When I first saw you with Jasper, I wanted nothing in the world than to replicate the joy your eyes held when he cooed at you. Little did I know, you had already taken the steps needed to make my wish come true. Your eyes are holding the same elation now, Isaac. It wasn’t caused by a newborn baby, it came from your daughter, our daughter.”

  “You don’t want children of your own?” Her speech was as beautiful as her face, but I need to ensure I’m hearing her message right. Time is critical for us, meaning we don’t have years to decide as other couples do. The lon
ger I delay my reversal, the lower the odds are of it being successful.

  After dragging her teeth over her bottom lip, Isabelle says, “And risk more competition? No thanks.”

  Her eye roll stops halfway when I snap, “This isn’t a game, Isabelle. I need you to answer me truthfully.”

  In an instant, a frank mask slips over her face. I hate snapping at her as if she is a member of my staff, but I’d rather be blunt than have her disappointed down the road.

  After a few seconds of silent deliberations, Isabelle asks, “Would you love Callie more if she had your blood?”

  “No,” I answer without pause for thought. “I love her as your uncle loved you… with everything I have.”

  Her smile takes my breath away. “Then why do our children need to have our blood? Why can’t they just have our unconditional love?”

  I didn’t think it was possible to love and admire the faultlessly beautiful woman in front of me more than I already do, but she just made a quick liar out of me. Her uncle should be proud because even with the odds against him, he raised a remarkable woman—one I plan to spoil for the rest of my life after I take her in the tub.

  13

  Isabelle

  Love knows no boundaries…

  not even age.

  * * *

  “Oh, no. Looks like someone has competition.”

  Isaac’s narrowed eyes drift to me. His jaw is ticking, and although his hands are shoved into the pockets of his trousers, I know they’re balled. When I attempted to stifle the tension hanging thickly in the air during our conversation in the tub two nights ago by joking I didn’t want children as I don’t want more competition, I was referencing me, not Isaac.

  It appears as if Callie didn’t get the memo. Much to Isaac’s disgrace, she’s smitten on a little brown-haired boy with ringlets of curls and eyes as blue as his daddy’s. Not even Isaac’s offer for Callie to sit with us at the ‘big people’s table’ sees her taking her eyes off her new BFF.