by Shandi Boyes
Goosebumps form on the back of my neck when Isaac sneaks up on me, unaware. He moved so agilely, I didn’t register his approach. After banding his arm around my waist, his pinkie grazing just above the apex between my thighs, he burrows his chin into my neck. “What’re Callie and Katarina up to?”
I don’t know how he expects me to answer him. If it weren’t for a thin piece of material separating us, he’d be all but stroking my aching sex. I’m not good with words in general when it comes to him, not to mention when he’s bombarding me with feather-like touches.
“Isabelle…”
Isaac’s growl of my name makes me sticky all over, but mercifully, the snapped command in his tone revives more than my inner vixen. It kickstarts my brain as well. “I invited Katarina to join us this afternoon.”
The air grows thick with humidity when his alluring gray eyes lower to mine. Even though he doesn’t say anything, he’s pleased by my offer of the olive branch. If the thickness I feel stretching from my ass to halfway up my back is anything to go by, my wish to welcome his extended family into our life is going to be well-rewarded.
It makes me even more eager to commence the next phase of my plans and has me doing something I never thought I’d do.
Much to the disgrace of my inner vixen, I pull away from Isaac before I get trapped by his commanding allure. I barely get two steps away from him before he seizes my wrist and drags me back to him. My knees buckle when he seals his mouth over mine. He kisses the living hell out of me. His kiss matches him to perfection. It’s commanding, dominating, and toe-curling good.
The only way it could be better is if we weren’t interrupted by a giggle a few minutes later. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad Callie isn’t flaming mad, but I’d give anything to be alone with Isaac right now, preferably at a location with a four-poster bed, a sturdy desk, and a shower to clean up the mess I plan for us to make. Just the thought has lust roaring through my veins like a hot, angry beast.
After a final nip on my bottom lip, Isaac murmurs, “These are my lips, Isabelle. Don’t ever keep them from me.”
He doesn’t wait for me to agree. He just suggests Roger remove his newspaper from the front seat of the SUV so Katarina can travel with us. Once we’re loaded into his car, we commence our forty-minute commute. I’m a bag of nerves the entire time. I’m so jittery, Isaac eyes me more than Roger and Katarina’s banter in the front of his car. Because they are whispering, we can’t hear anything they’re saying, but they look awfully chummy for two strangers.
“If it were more than friendship, you can be assured Henry would have taken care of Roger by now.” I murmur ‘taken care of’ in a way even a saint would understand. “So stop glaring and spin around. I need you facing away from me.” I hit him with a glare when he arches his brow, soundlessly demanding an explanation for my request. “Just do it, please.”
I hear Isaac’s jaw tick more than see it when he does as requested with only the slightest grumble. He hates being told what to do, but since I’m his soon-to-be wife and not a member of his staff, he lets the occasional bossy instance slip through the cracks.
Memories of our first time together filter through my mind when I slide one of Isaac’s ties over his eyes before securing it behind the back of his head. It isn’t the exact tie we used because I needed a thick, non-satiny material to ensure he couldn’t see through it. It’s hard to surprise a man who knows everything, so I’ve left nothing to chance. Not even Hunter, Hugo, or Regan know what’s occurring this afternoon. It’s a secret from anyone who could ruin it.
When Roger pulls in front of the destination I whispered in his ear earlier today, his name comes out of Isaac’s mouth in a snapped command. Isaac only says Roger’s name, but Roger understands his request without additional words needed. Isaac is hating the fact my wish to surprise him has him defenseless to an attack, but his trust in Roger is high enough to subdue the need to control every aspect of his life for a few minutes.
“I won’t let anything happen to them, boss. You have my word.”
Roger waits for Isaac to dip his chin before exiting the car to survey the area. From what Isaac explained earlier, I doubt he’ll find anyone but Henry’s crew following us. They’re no threat to us. We’re safer than anyone on the planet right now.
Once we’re given the all-clear, Katarina aids Callie out of her car seat while Roger assists me in getting Isaac onto the footpath without stumbling. A brick lodges into my throat when two patrol officers notice we’re parked illegally in the loading bay, but for some reason unbeknownst to me, they don’t approach us.
“I called in a favor. You have a thirty-minute permit to park here.”
Although Katarina’s voice is barely a whisper, Isaac heard her. How do I know this? He sucked in a breath as sharply as me. There’s only one person capable of granting this favor so quickly. The man Katarina has refused to speak to for almost thirty years—Henry Gottle, Sr.
When Katarina spots the tears glistening in my eyes, she murmurs, “Consider that my first gift. This is my second.”
My nose tingles when she hands me a floral arrangement wrapped with the ribbon from the bow on the top of her food hamper. The recently prepared bouquet is mainly made up of the bergenias potted in the arched window of her kitchen, but there are occasional sprouts of yucca. It’s simple, but undeniably beautiful, much like the woman it was gifted from.
After handing my flowers to Callie to mind, I move to stand behind Isaac. My thighs shake with each step I take, loathing that our theatrics has gained us a crowd of curious onlookers. I was hoping to keep this surprise a secret, but the number of cameras directed our way right now might not make that possible.
When I lift my hands to untie the knot at the back of Isaac’s head, I feel his heart racing a million miles an hour. It matches mine to a T. Once I have the knot untethered, I press my lips to the shell of his ear and whisper, “Happy birthday, Isaac.”
The deep exhale he releases when he realizes I didn’t forget his birthday has nothing on the one he does when it dawns on him we’re standing outside of the Marriage Division of the City Clerk’s Office in New York.
I wasn’t joking when I said the title of multimillionaire opens doors I didn’t know possible. A wooden arch covered with white gerberas and roses shadows the entrance of the historic building, and a plush Persian carpet stretches from the top of the stairs to the archway. It’s the way a church would be decorated for the bride and groom—for us.
“What’s the one thing you can gift a man who has everything?” When Isaac’s alluring gray irises shift to me, I say, “Me.” I cringe when I realize my error. “Sorry, I meant us.” Callie slips her hand into mine when I hold it out for her before she leans in to hug Isaac’s thigh. “We have the license, the rings, and the damn legalese you wouldn’t stop pestering me about. Now we just need to make things official.”
Isaac smirks at my exasperated huff about our prenuptial agreement, but it doesn’t harness his worry. “I thought you wanted to get married in front of our family and friends? That was the excuse you used when I tried to get you on a plane to Reno months ago, wasn’t it?”
He sounds angry. I know he isn’t. He’s just too shocked to know which emotion to react to first. I love that we surprised him. It wasn’t an easy feat, but the glimmer his eyes hold now makes the effort worth it.
“We’ll still do that. I just didn’t want to wait until March, so I thought we could wed in secret until then. But if you want to wait and not share your birthday with our anniversary, I guess I can exercise patience as well.”
My insides cheer at the success of my tease when Isaac stops me from returning to the car by seizing my wrist as he did earlier. “I don’t care that today is my birthday. Every day I spend with you and Callie is a gift, so this will only make it sweeter, but I need to be sure this is what you want, Isabelle.” His purr of my name makes me wish it wasn’t summer. “You may have the right to file for a divorce, but that doesn�
��t mean I’ll agree to it. I’ll give up everything I have before I ever give you up, so if you’re feeling sentimental because of Hugo’s nuptials, you need to reassess before you agree to something you can’t take back.”
I peer at him for several long seconds, taking in his sharp jawline covered by a few days of scruff, his hair that’s overdue for a trim because collecting Callie from preschool is more important than barber appointments, and the crinkle his brows always get when he forever places the needs of others before himself.
Our relationship has already proved it can stand the test of time, but this weekend utterly sealed my loyalty to him. He’s been open, honest, and raw while giving himself to me wholeheartedly. I can’t love him any more than I already do, so this is merely making it legal.
For the first time since I’ve known him, Isaac’s eyes appear more light gray than dark. It’s compliments to them lighting up when I step closer to him. He sees my answer in my eyes, smells it on my skin. He knows I am his as much as he is mine, and now we’ve just got to make it official.
“My Uncle Tobias once said marriage is about falling in love many times but always with the same person. That person for me is you, Isaac. You helped me grow as an individual while showing me it’s okay to rely on someone. Now I want to do the same for you. So, without further ado, will you do me the honor of becoming my husband?”
17
Isaac
I didn’t realize I was empty
until I became whole.
* * *
Isabelle and I wed in a simple ceremony in the City Clerk’s Office on August 3 at one thirty in the afternoon. Katarina and Roger witnessed the event I knew would occur the instant my eyes lowered to the nameless brunette sprawled at my feet in an airport lobby a little over fourteen months ago.
Callie wasn’t just our flower girl, she participated in the commitment ceremony that unified us as a family. Isabelle cried happy tears when Callie recited the poem we wrote at the park earlier this morning. It mentioned how she hoped Isabelle would become her mother, and that although we didn’t create her, we did give her the gift of life.
Even in a suit I wear every day and Isabelle wearing a dress you’d find in countless closets in America, it was a truly beautiful ceremony, one I’ll remember for years after I’m gone. We weren’t surrounded by key members of our inner circle, but nothing could take away from the level of commitment and passion exuded during the ceremony.
We’ll wed again for our family and friends. We will do the big fancy dress, the tuxedos, the cake, and the big cheesy grins I doubt anyone has seen me wear because I’d do it all again a hundred times if it would give me one-tenth of the peace I’m feeling now.
The fee for our ceremony was twenty-five dollars, we toasted our nuptials with a bottle of wine purchased in the lobby of the Clerk’s Office, and feasted on a one-tier cake a ma-and-pa bakery around the corner delivered halfway through the ceremony, yet I feel like the richest man on the planet. I have our signed marriage certificate in one hand, the hand of my wife in the other, and the sleepy, loved-up eyes of my daughter watching me.
Life can’t get better than this.
When Roger pulls onto the curb at the front of a run of old brownstones, Katarina cranks her neck back to face us. “Thank you once again for inviting me and congratulations. The ceremony was a masterpiece no amount of money could replicate.”
Her eyes glisten with pride when she leans over the privacy partition so she can farewell us with a kiss on the cheek. She whispers more than a quick ‘goodbye’ in Isabelle’s ear, but since her words are too quiet, and she appears to be speaking a foreign language, I miss what she says.
Whatever it is, it increases the smile Isabelle hasn’t stopped grinning the past hour and a half. “I will, I promise. Make sure you come and visit us as well. We’d love to have you before we do it all again in March.”
I fatten up Isabelle’s offer with a smile. My extended family is as important as those with my blood, and I’m loving that Isabelle is open to including them in our lives.
“You won’t be able to keep me away.” Katarina turns her focus to Callie before tickling her tummy. Callie laughs, but it isn’t her full-hearted laugh. She’s slumped of energy. It’s been a big weekend all round. Even I’m exhausted. “Are you sure you don’t want me to take Callie overnight? Henry’s room is a shrine to his childhood, so I have the space. Roger could stay, too, if you’re worried about her safety.”
I wasn’t worried, but I am now. Katarina has never married because Henry, Sr. never let a man get close enough to her to have a sleepover, much less a relationship. Not even my guarantee that Roger was only staying over for Callie would have Henry being lenient on his rules. Marrying another woman didn’t stop his neurosis jealousy when it comes to Katarina, so I don’t see it ever ending.
“Thank you for the offer, but we’re flying out this afternoon.”
Isabelle peers at me with wide, shocked eyes. “I organized for Scout to come tomorrow morning.”
“I called Scout and altered our plans.” I lean in close to Isabelle, ensuring my next set of words are only for her ears. “I claimed you as mine the first time in a jet, so it’s only fitting I do it again, but this time as your husband.”
When I lick the shell of her ear, she shivers, equally scared and excited. Isabelle isn’t a fan of flying, but not even morbid fear can relinquish the excitement that blisters through her when she thinks about us getting intimate.
She’s a strong and independent woman, but the instant we step into a bedroom, she surrenders all her power to me. Up until an hour ago, I would have said nothing has made me feel more influential, but the sheet of paper I’m clasping makes a quick liar out of me. Isabelle having the same last name as me trumps any achievement I’ve ever had.
Katarina smiles like she’s truly happy for us before exiting the car. I’m not surprised to notice her dart to her door has her veering past a blacked-out SUV. Henry is forever watching her. He is who I learned my stalking neurosis from.
“Home?”
I locked my eyes with Roger’s in the rearview mirror. Even with the afternoon sun bouncing off them, they’re more at peace as well. “Please.”
When we board the jet thirty minutes later, Catherine must see something in my eyes as she gathers Callie into her arms before making herself scarce. They can’t go far, but I appreciate her endeavor to give Isabelle and me some privacy.
I’ve always had a primal, hungry urge to make Isabelle mine, but today, it’s greater than anything I’ve experienced. I’m not a communicator like Hugo. I prefer using actions instead of words.
As much as I love Callie, I’m desperate to get Isabelle alone. I need her to know how much today meant to me, and that she couldn’t have picked a more suitable day for us to wed.
I’ve never celebrated my birthday, preferring instead to acknowledge the day I was given a second chance at life. Since that also happens to be the day Nick was born, my celebrations always took a back seat.
Ophelia and I were together for a little over three months on my birthday, yet it came and went without any acknowledgment from her, so I’m not only shocked Isabelle remembered the day I was born, I’m pleased she made it a day worth celebrating again.
Still, I can’t express myself adequately with others near. When we have an audience, I showcase how much I care for Isabelle by how fiercely I protect her. When we’re alone, I use touch.
Can you now understand how dire my wish is for us to be alone?
“Thirty-year-old Teeling, Mr. Holt?” A male flight attendant asks when I guide Isabelle to the seats at the very back of the jet.
He’s aware of my liquor of choice as he’s been on my payroll the past year, although his name is evading me right now. My head is already in the impenetrable cloud only Isabelle can entice, but the steward’s gawking stare at my wife’s legs is worsening my urge to bang my chest like a macho idiot. Clearly, not even marriage is a cure for my jealousy.
After jerking up my chin, agreeing with the flight attendant’s selection, I hand him my suit jacket to store. When his eyes lock with mine, I give him a look, one I’m certain even someone as ill-mannered as he can’t misread.
A ghost of a smirk touches my lips when his eyes fall to the floor before his throat works hard to swallow. I didn’t speak, yet he’s more than aware I’ll have no hesitation in following through with my unspoken threat. Isabelle’s short dress shows off a lot of leg, but that motto, ‘you can look but can’t touch,’ doesn’t abide well with me. One more inappropriate glance at my wife’s legs will have him lining up for unemployment benefits—after we’ve had a word in private.
“Will that be all, Mr. Holt?” He impresses me when his voice only comes out with the slightest quiver. I don’t need to hear his fear to know he’s scared. His thighs are shaking as much as Isabelle’s knees did when she climbed the stairs of the jet.
With my annoyance on the down-low, I shift on my feet to face Isabelle. “Would you like something to drink?”
Isabelle stops taking in the highly-varnished wood trim and white leather seats to peer back at me. The configuration of this jet is slightly different from the one we generally utilize. The floor space is almost double the size of our standard aircraft.
We commonly use this plane when we’re attempting to lure investors to Ravenshoe. The flashier we are with their transport and accommodation, the more money they’re willing to invest in the town Colt Enterprises is quickly turning into a metropolis.
When Isabelle notices the steward standing at my side, holding my coat, she grasps the words she didn’t hear me speak. “Nothing for me, thank you.”
Unaware of the tension brewing between the flight attendant and me, she plops into the reclining chair closest to the window before hunting for her belt. She’s shaking all over, the most unhinged I’ve seen her.