The Wedding: Enigma, #17

by Shandi Boyes

  “It’s your birthday, so the choice is yours,” I say at the same time Callie squeals, “Rainbow!”

  I twist my lips. “Or we could have rainbow.”

  Isaac’s laugh doesn’t echo around the empty bakery as you’d suspect. “Rainbow it is.”

  I watch him merge into the hub of Harlow’s Scrumptious Haven with my heart in my throat. He’s not carrying a weapon, and in more ways than one, that’s a godsend. Now I’ve just got to pray he doesn’t prove how his body is the most powerful weapon in his arsenal.

  Isaac is illuminated by an artificial yellow light when he opens the massive steel door of Harlow’s walk-in fridge.

  “She hides the cakes at the very back.”

  When he steps deeper into the fridge, I gather Callie’s hand in mine before soundlessly slipping into the bakery. Roger shadows us but conducts his stalker watch in silence.

  I feel Callie’s heart racing through our conjoined hands when Isaac says, “I can’t see any cakes, Isabelle. Are you sure she keeps them in here?”

  Even though he can’t see me, I nod. “They’re behind the eggs.”

  While Isaac searches for a cake I know he won’t find, I wave my arm in the air, encouraging the bodies I feel around me to move in closer. The night is extremely muggy, but it grows tenfold when I’m circled by those nearest and dearest to Isaac.

  “There are no cakes in here, Isabelle. All I can see is butter, eggs, and… is that lube?”

  My neck snaps to Harlow so fast, I almost give myself whiplash. “What?” She swivels on the spot, attempting to act innocent. It’s a hard look for her to pull off. “Costco had a sale, and it didn’t fit in the fridge in my apartment. I didn’t want it to go to waste.”

  Her words are barely whispers, but Cormack has no trouble hearing the undertone in her reply. He cozies up to her back, his smug grin bright enough to illuminate the kitchen without the bulb Harlow had him remove earlier today.

  Happy everyone is in place, I exhale a deep breath to clear the nerves from my stomach before saying, “Harlow must have sold out of cakes today.” If the detective gig doesn’t work out, I should consider a move to Hollywood. The disappointment in my tone is so authentic, Callie’s lower lip drops into a pout. She loves cake almost as much as she does her stuffed bunny—and perhaps Isaac.

  “I’m sure if Callie asks nicely, Catherine will bake her a rainbow cake tomorrow.”

  Just as Isaac pivots around to exit the walk-in fridge, Hugo flicks on the lights in the main section of the bakery, scaring the living daylights out of both Isaac and me. He’s stunned by the combined ‘happy birthday’ shouts of his family and friends. I’m petrified about him discovering I lied to him twice in one day.

  My whole I-organized-Scout-to take-us-home-tomorrow ruse was my way of seeing if anyone had let slip the event I commenced organizing last month. Isaac is a very personal man, so I couldn’t host his surprise birthday party at our home. Cormack suggested one of Isaac’s restaurants or nightclubs, but Isaac keeps very tight reins on his business dealings, meaning it would have made it virtually impossible to keep his party a surprise.

  Although Harlow’s bakery is compact, it soon proved to be the ideal location. It’s smack bang in the middle of town, and I wasn’t required to wrangle a birthday cake across town while worrying about smudging the icing.

  While greeting those privileged to be a part of his inner circle, Isaac keeps his eyes locked on me. His glare is so pulse-quickening, it has my knees knocking together. I hope his guests aren’t party animals because there’s no way I can maintain this level of excitement for hours. Just the way Isaac is looking at me has me heating up everywhere. His eyes are painfully enigmatic yet beautifully exposed.

  It takes almost forty minutes for Isaac to break away from the people unaware the shock on his face is about to jump onto theirs. As he stalks across the room, past Hugo, Hunter, Regan, and their respective partners, his dad and brother, Jenni and Jasper, and a handful of faces I’m not familiar with, my panties moisten.

  Even with shock still evident on his face, his commanding stature hasn’t faltered. He governs his empire with a sharp astuteness many hope to emulate but will never come close to achieving. Isaac is too perfect to be replicated.

  Dizziness clusters in my head when he bands his arm around my waist so he can tug me into his fit and enticing body. I sway like a leaf in a hot summer’s breeze just from the sheer closeness of his handsome face. “You lied to me—”

  “For a good reason.”

  Isaac continues speaking as if I never spoke. “More than once.” My breathing stills when he brings his mouth close enough to mine, we share the same breath. “You’ve been a bad girl, Isabelle, leaving me no choice but to punish you.”

  “Please.”

  His smirk—my god. “As tempting as your offer is, your punishment is only suitable for behind closed doors.”

  Goosebumps follow the track his finger makes when he glides it down my back. I’ve showered and changed since our rendezvous in the jet, meaning the ruched-tulle fanning out from my waist bunches around his finger when his thumb comes to a stop at the peekaboo hole showcasing the two dimples in my lower back. The zap his meekest touch sends to my pussy would have you thinking he’s stroking my clit. That’s how electrifying it is.

  “Are you bare?”

  “No.” I stray my eyes over the congregation of people filling nearly every inch of Harlow’s bakery. Isaac is so loved, even key members of Ravenshoe PD are amongst the rowdy party guests—including Ryan. He’s talking to a man with recently clipped hair and a full sleeve of tattoos. If I recall correctly, his name is Brax. He’s Ryan’s best friend. “Would you like me to be?”

  I need to get my head checked. We’ve been at each other day and night the past four days, yet I still can’t get enough. Is that normal? Surely, needing someone this much can’t be healthy.

  “Love is an obsession, Isabelle, but if it’s done right, it’s the healthiest obsession anyone can have.”

  I swoon like crazy, loving that he can read me so easily. “So you’re not mad?”

  Isaac’s thumb tracks the cupid bow in my top lip as he murmurs. “Today revealed I still have a lot to learn about you, Mrs. Holt, but I’m not mad. By bringing those closest to us into the one space, you freed up hours I can spend with you… beneath the sheets.”

  With his hands cupping my jaw, he kisses me with a hunger I pray will never abate before announcing to our guests what I’m confident will never weaken—that he is mine as much as I am his.

  19

  Isaac

  Trust goes both ways.

  * * *

  My brisk pace across the polished mahogany floors of my nightclub slows when it occurs minus the greeting I generally receive each day. Tina would usually be prepping the bar for the guests who drink here even with it being only eleven in the morning.

  Regan said Tina had quit, but I was unaware it was without notice. If I had known, I would have altered the rosters to ensure the shelves were restocked with the liquor my unexpected birthday party depleted from my stockpile.

  There’s no surprise I was shocked last night. As I’ve said previously, I’ve never celebrated my birthday, so to marry the love of my life and celebrate the day of my birth with those nearest and dearest to me within hours made yesterday the best day of my life.

  When Isabelle and I shared news of our nuptials with those in attendance at my party, nobody cared it was a Monday. We celebrated until the wee hours of this morning, making me a little unsteady on my feet. Alcohol rarely affects me. It’s the lightness of my steps making me cautious. I feel like I’m about to float away. That’s how lithe and free I feel since Isabelle became mine.

  Hate is a heavy burden to carry.

  I’m free of that now.

  My flighty feeling worsens the more I think about Isabelle. I stared at her sleeping for hours this morning. I crave her deeply, but there’s something mesmerizing about watching her slee
p. The touch of a smile on her lips not even horrific nightmares could remove, and the slight hue of pink her cheeks don’t usually adorn fascinate me so much, I’ve added many photographs of her sleeping to my collection the past seven months—almost as many as her panties.

  My thoughts are snapped back to the present when a familiar face pops out of the storage room at the back of the bar, startling me. “Did you have chimpanzees running the place while I was away? It’s a fucking mess.” Hugo hits me with a cheeky wink before his lips curve into a grin.

  Feeding off his playfulness, I ask, “Do you need some pointers on pleasing your woman? Surely, the honeymoon period isn’t over for you already.”

  Hugo’s grin turns blinding. “Despite your efforts, Joel’s sudden urge to sleep in our bed hasn’t diminished Ava’s needs in the slightest. Have you ever tried to keep up with the demands of a pregnant lady?”

  His question has barely left his mouth, but he already wants to ram it back in. He knows I’m sterile because I stupidly let it slip while consoling him for announcing he had ‘stolen’ Ava’s virginity in front of their family and friends—including both sets of parents.

  “Sorry. That was uncalled for.”

  “It’s fine.” I place my suitcase onto the bar before joining him in the storage room. He’s right. It is a mess. “Isabelle and I have options if we want to go that route, but for now, what we have is enough.”

  A wish for Hugo not to be able to read me as well as he does wordlessly leaves my lips when he asks, “You reached out to Jae?”

  I lift my chin. I don’t like talking about my personal life in general, let alone with my staff, but Hugo means more to me than a standard employee. He got shot endeavoring to save Isabelle. In a way, I owe him more than I care to admit.

  Still, I veer our conversation onto a playing field I’m confident fielding. “What are you doing here, Hugo? You only wed this weekend. Shouldn’t you be on your honeymoon?”

  He gives me a curious stare. “You do realize you got married two days after me, right?”

  I shove my hands into my pockets before shooting him a wry look. He doesn’t flinch. Stupid bastard.

  He smiles, loving that he’s riled me up. “You said you wanted to talk.”

  Fear is not an emotion I often experience, but I’m certain it’s the reason for the twitch in my top lip. “Yes, when you relocated to Ravenshoe, not while you’re supposed to be enjoying the perks of wedded bliss.”

  My jaw ticks when he mumbles, “Sounds like someone needs to take his own advice.”

  After dumping empty boxes into a cardboard receptacle on his left, Hugo wipes at the sweat on his brow with his shirt. His strong work ethic is one of the reasons he climbed the rankings of my empire so quickly. Whether serving patrons in a rundown bar that was scheduled to be bulldozed, or wooing clients who don’t bat an eyelid at being charged three thousand dollars for a bottle of whiskey in the VIP booths of my clubs, his work effort doesn’t alter.

  Don’t mistake me, I pay him very well, but I have a knack for reading people, so you can be assured even if his salary wasn’t in the high six figures every year, he’d still be here, working to the bone.

  “Ava wants to delay our honeymoon until bub is born.” Hugo lowers his shirt back down, hiding the vast collection of tattoos covering almost every inch of his torso. “What’s your excuse?”

  My jaw tightens, unappreciative of the interrogation in his tone. Humor is there too, but I don’t hear things like normal men do. “Isabelle is at work. If she weren’t, I wouldn’t be here.”

  I nudge my head to my office door, implying we should move our conversation to a private location. He will also want to be sitting down when he realizes why I requested us to meet.

  When Hugo gathers the liquor inventory off the third shelf, I say, “Leave that for Mark. He needs all the practice he can get.”

  Laughing, he shadows me into my office before closing the door behind him. As I move to the coat rack in the corner of the large space to hang my suit jacket, he takes in a space that’s changed since he last saw it. It’s been refurnished even with my office being only eighteen months old.

  “Callie’s inclusion in our life required some adjusting.” A cunning grin carves on my mouth. “My couch was too small for two.”

  My smirk doubles when I spot Hugo’s slack-jawed expression. He’s been away the past six months, so he’s not used to seeing this side of me. That free feeling I was experiencing after marrying Isabelle is still running abundantly through my veins, making me the most carefree I’ve ever been.

  I doubt that will still be the case in a few minutes.

  “Do you have a date for me yet?”

  Considering the circumstances of our meeting, I need to hammer down a date before hitting Hugo with the big stuff. Hugo is a damn good employee, so I’ll do everything in my power to keep him in my team—even if he’s only legally obligated to work for me.

  “Looking toward the end of the month. Hawke has decided to put his house on the market, so I’d like to help him fix it up before having it valued.”

  Part of his comment reminds me of Isabelle and Harlow’s plans to get Hawke and Gemma together. “Do you think Hawke is ready to move on?”

  Hugo slumps low in his chair before scrubbing the stubble on his chin. “To be honest, I don’t know. I’m hopeful. It’s been a long time coming, but I understand everyone handles grief differently.”

  I’ve said that exact quote to him numerous times the past five years. Although I’m now wondering how accurate it is. Hawke and I are two very different men, but our grief pattern was oddly similar. We both closed ourselves off from the world by throwing ourselves into work. His was in the military, whereas mine was my empire. It took me six years to see past my grief. The sixth anniversary of Jorgie’s death is coming up in a few months. The similarities of our grief are undeniable, there’s just one difference. Ophelia is alive. Jorgie isn’t.

  Regrettably, the infamous reputation I fought so hard to get wasn’t strong enough to bring the man responsible for Jorgie’s death to justice. Roberto is living a bleak, miserable existence, but he’s still living. Police records reveal Malcolm, Jorgie and Hawke’s son, never took his first breath.

  Roberto showed remorse. He pled guilty and was set to face the consequences of his actions like a man instead of a coward, but none of those reasons factored into my decision years ago. It was his eyes. They revealed a broken man who never had the chance to live a normal, moral existence.

  I was so determined to free Ophelia from her father’s clutches, I almost killed her brother in the ring. I guarantee you her brothers didn’t have access to the same crutch. Col was a vile, heinous man who’d rather his son die than throw in the towel in defeat. Blood or not, he never placed the needs of anyone above himself. That’s when I realized Roberto may have been alive, but he wasn’t living. He was already in hell, and my proposal merely kept him there.

  Hugo watches me closely when I secure my tablet out of my briefcase. With this being one of Hunter’s prototypes, I’m only one of two owners. Every influential article in my life is stored on this device. Up until yesterday, Callie’s sale documentation sat in the number one spot. Now it’s one place behind my marriage certificate.

  After bringing up the document Isabelle stumbled upon days ago, I slide the tablet across the desk to Hugo. His brows furrow when he notices the name stretched across the file, but he maintains a quiet front.

  When he reaches the photographs of Roberto’s transformation from a fit thirty-year-old man with a head full of thick hair to an overweight, balding middle-aged man with a rounded stomach, Hugo’s eyes snap up to mine.

  He appears confused. I try and settle it. “You wanted him to suffer, to pay for killing your sister and nephew. I kept my word.”

  “You said you’d take care of it.” His voice is graveling and thick like he swallowed a handful of rock shards before speaking.

  “I did—”

&n
bsp; “I thought you killed him. That you killed him for me.” I can’t tell if he’s frustrated or relieved. It may be a combination of both.

  “I nearly did. I just…” My words trail off when I fail to find an excuse for my spinelessness. For the first time in the past six years, I’m ashamed of the man I’ve become.

  My eyes float up from my desk when Hugo murmurs, “Even with your soul shattered, you knew right from wrong.” He smirks at my shocked expression. “That’s what Ava said to me when I told her I couldn’t issue Roberto the punishment the court failed to give him. She told me that not pulling the trigger made me courageous.” He dumps the tablet that’s open to the file of his sister’s killer onto my desk so he can drag his fingers through his hair.

  “At the time, I honestly wanted him dead. I thought if he were dead, the pain of losing Jorgie and Malcolm wouldn’t be as bad.” He shakes his head while exhaling deeply. “Even believing you had killed him didn’t change a thing. Nothing changed. Jorgie’s death still ate away at me every single day, growing worse when I returned to Rochdale.” After sucking in a big breath, he nudges his head to my laptop. “May I?”

  Even without knowing where he’s taking our conversation, I jerk up my chin. Now that he knows what really happened to Roberto, he knows all my secrets. He and Isabelle know every horrible thing about me, and shockingly, they both haven’t run. A selfless man wouldn’t accept their forgiveness. He’d free them to live their life without controversy, but I’m too selfish to do that. I gave Isabelle an out yesterday before we wed. She won’t get a second one. Just as this will be Hugo’s only shot of leaving my empire on amicable terms.

  After finding the article he’s after, Hugo lifts and locks his eyes with mine. “When I moved back to Rochdale, my nightmares returned stronger than ever.”

  The shame in his eyes reveals he hates admitting he’s succumbed to the nightmares that plagued his dreams after Gemma’s assault. I don’t know why. Having the courage to admit he suffers nightmares far exceeds any shame he should feel.