The Mystery Unmasked: Enigma, #3

by Shandi Boyes

  “Isabelle.” My name rolls off his tongue in a seductive purr, but the brashness in his tone reveals his earlier anger is still paramount. “I was just about to call you.”

  “Hello.” I roll my eyes at my own dimness. It’s understandable. Even irately angry, my body melts from hearing his knee-weakening voice, but I’m better than this. “Hugo wanted me to let you know we’re staying at Brandon’s parents’ house this weekend.”

  Hugo’s brows disappear into his hairline, stunned I just threw him into the deep end without a life jacket.

  “No, Isabelle.” Isaac’s deep rumble booms out of the speakers so loudly, even Hugo hears his reply. “Brandon can stay at his parents’ house. You and Hugo will stay at a hotel.”

  I love the arrogance in his tone, but I act unaffected by it. “I wasn’t seeking your permission. I was courteously informing you of my decision.”

  My panties moisten when his sexy-as-sin growl cracks down the line. “You’re not sleeping under another man’s roof—”

  “It’s not his house!”

  When Hugo’s chuckle screeches through my eardrums, I hit him with the best angry scowl I can muster. It’s convincing enough to stuff his laughter into the back of his throat, but not strong enough to wipe the cheeky grin off his face.

  After turning my back on Hugo, I snarl down the line, “I’m staying at Brandon’s parents’ house. If you don’t like it, then come take me to the hotel yourself.”

  I snap my phone shut, equally excited and petrified. I just forced Isaac to interact with me. Half of me is beyond comprehension at the prospect of seeing him again, whereas the other half is scared of what the repercussions will be for forcing his hand. If there’s one thing I know about Isaac, it is his dislike of being strong-armed.

  When, in the corner of my eye, I catch sight of Hugo sneaking up on me, I spin around to issue him a stern finger point. “If you even attempt to drag me to the car, I won’t hesitate to show you that firing a weapon isn’t the only test I aced at the academy.”

  He isn’t the slightest bit intimidated by my threat. If anything, he appreciates the challenge. I’d take him up on his offer if I weren’t thrust into cardiac arrest by my phone unexpectedly ringing. It startles me so much, I throw it in the air with a squeal, only just catching it before it collides with the wooden floorboards under my feet.

  I get a second fright when the number calling me registers as familiar. It’s Isaac.

  After exhaling a big breath to settle the nerves in my voice, I hit the connect button, then raising my phone to my ear, I attempt to speak, but Isaac beats me. “Put Hugo on the phone.”

  “Okay.” Hugo’s brows furrow when I thrust my phone into his chest. “He wants to speak to you.”

  He looks more panicked now than when I issued my threat. While working his jaw side to side, he squashes my phone to his ear. “Boss.”

  When his eyes dart up from his polished black shoes, my pulse quickens. He has a bizarre glimmer in his eyes I’ve never seen before. I honestly don’t know if I’m in trouble or on the brink of greatness. Fingers crossed it’s a bit of both.

  Their conversation is very brief. Hugo only says two words, “I understand,” before he disconnects their call and hands my phone back to me.

  “What did he say?”

  He doesn’t grace me with a reply. He just grins, winks, then strolls into the kitchen to steal one of Mrs. James’s famous cookies, leaving me on a knife’s edge.

  Chapter 24

  Isabelle

  After balling my hands into loose fists, I pivot around to face the full-length mirror in the corner of the room. My jaw gapes when I take in the usual sight in front of me. When Brandon said his mom likes to play Barbie dolls, he wasn’t joking. Mrs. James spent the last three hours treating me exactly as if I were one. She polished me so well, I swear my skin is sparkling like the vampires in Twilight do when they stand in the sun.

  My skin isn’t the only thing gleaming. Every hair on my head has been faultlessly wrangled into place, and a few curls have been added to my usually kink-free lock. Dramatic shadowing enhances the richness of my dark eyes, but my lips are neutral with only the slightest shimmer of lip gloss coating them.

  Even my $39.97 bargain dress I purchased from eBay looks even more regal than it is. I originally bought my dress to wear at my graduation party from the academy, but even with me sending my bust, waist, and hip measurements to the Chinese manufacturer six weeks before my graduation as requested, it didn’t arrive in time.

  The black skirt is made up of ruched silk, and the silver bodice is adorned with diamante rhinestones. The hem jumps from somewhat risqué to wickedly naughty when I slip my feet into a pair of black and silver strappy heels. I’m showing off more leg than I like, but I feel like a princess, so I wouldn’t change my outfit even if I had packed another dress.

  While fanning my cheeks to settle down the heat spreading across my face, I pace out of the bathroom. My heels dig into the plush cream carpet of the room Mrs. James seconded so I could prep for tonight’s Gala, but it has nothing on the gooeyness of my insides when Hugo mutters, “Damn, Izzy. You’re smoking!”

  Although he didn’t relinquish his protective bodyguard demeanor this afternoon, his presence hasn’t been overly smothering. He spent the majority of his day reading outdated magazines and tapping his foot in beat to the classic car tunes he played during our drive. For someone who was adamant we weren’t to play any country music, he had no troubles belting out “Sweet Alabama” by Lynyrd Skynyrd.

  He probably kept his distance because anytime he got close, I relentlessly nagged him about his conversation with Isaac. Regrettably, the information-seeping Hugo I’ve become accustomed to the past two weeks has been replaced with a locked-up-tighter-than-Fort-Knox Hugo. He didn’t need to say anything, though, just me still being here several hours later is evidence enough. I had both a victory and a loss today. A win because Isaac trusts me enough to let me stay at a male friend’s house but a loss because his jealousy wasn’t enough to force him to react.

  Hugo isn’t the only quiet male today. Brandon has been notably distant as well. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him since lunch. Shrugging off my confusion of the opposite sex, I gather my black clutch purse from my suitcase. After checking it has the necessities needed for a night out, I spin back around. The heel from my pretentiously high stiletto heels snags on the thick carpet pile.

  Just before I collide with the floor, a broad set of arms catches me. Expensive cologne and… cookie dough swamp my senses when my savior assists me back onto my feet. After ensuring I didn’t flash any private parts during my fall, I lift my gaze and am met with the sparkling hazel eyes of Brandon. My mouth gapes when I notice he’s wearing a tuxedo with tails. His hair is slicked to the side, and his dark suit makes the green in his eyes even more noticeable.

  Upon noticing my appreciative glance, his cheeks turn a pink hue. “Are you ready?”

  Smiling at his flustered face, I nod before accepting the elbow he’s holding out. I’ve never been to a fancy shindig before, so I’m excited and somewhat nervous to see how the night unfolds.

  When, in the corner of my eye, I catch Hugo shooting daggers at Brandon, I give him my best ‘behave‘ face. He rolls his eyes before shadowing us out into the hall.

  My eyes narrow into a thin line when I spot Hugo’s nosey glance for the fifth time in the past thirty minutes. Being polite, I sat in the backseat with Brandon to allow Barbara to ride shotgun. Even with a gap big enough to park a truck between Brandon and me, Hugo’s eyes rarely leave the rearview mirror. I’m surprised he hasn’t run us off the road.

  Because of the number of attendees arriving at the same time, the line to enter the closest multi-story parking garage near the gala stretches for nearly half a mile.

  After a stern warning that I’m to stay in the foyer, Hugo pulls Brandon’s BMW in front of the hotel the gala is being held at to let us out. I can’t wipe the excitement off my
face when I enter the opulent lobby on Brandon’s arm. Hundreds of people dressed to the nines are milling around the space. The air has the pungent aroma of wealth and importance, which isn’t surprising with how many designer dresses and exorbitantly priced shoes are in one area. Some of the diamonds around the ladies’ necks are larger than the fake ones hanging from the chandeliers above my head.

  Harlow would have a field day at an event like this. Other than the occasional quick text message, I haven’t heard from her the past week. Trying to text her on an ancient cell phone is so painful and tedious, I’m going to ask Hugo to stop into an electronics store so I can replace the phone Hunter destroyed.

  Barbara excuses herself to assist other charity members who are hosting the gala tonight. I don’t know what charity they’re raising money for, but from the caliber of wealth in the one room, it must be important. Most guests are already wearing their masks as mandated by the fundraising team, but a few are clutching them in their hands like Brandon and me. When Brandon comes to a sudden stop halfway across the foyer, I shoot my eyes up to his. His face pales the longer he keeps his angst-ridden gaze focused on something across the room.

  Following his gaze, I discover the girl we saw earlier today leading the horse around the paddock. “Is that Melody?”

  Swallowing hard, Brandon nods, his eyes never leaving the woman responsible for the lack of color in his cheeks. I figured her presence would have the opposite effect because she looks stunning in her red silk ball gown that sweeps the ground as she walks. Her blonde hair is pinned off her face, and the vibrant color of her lips matches her dress to perfection.

  Sensing our gawking watch, her gaze lifts and turns our way. When she notices Brandon across the room, a vein in her neck pulsates before a huge smile stretches across her face. I nudge Brandon with my elbow, confident she’s throwing out feelers. “Go say hello.”

  His panicked eyes dart down to me before he briskly shakes his head. I raise my brow, giving him my best it-wasn’t-a-request look I mastered from Isaac.

  After a few seconds of silent contemplation, the anxiety marring his face relaxes, and his shoulders roll high. “Wish me luck.”

  He swoops down to place a peck on my cheek before weaving through the hundreds of event-goers separating them, her eyes once again not leaving his. Once they greet each other with a somewhat awkward hug, I saunter toward a gentleman balancing drinks on a silver tray. With so many people crammed in one spot, the temperature is stifling.

  When I accept a bottle of chilled water from the grinning waiter, a shiver jolts down my spine. Uneased by my intuition warning me I’m being watched, I drift my eyes over the people surrounding me. Other than a guy drinking a brown-colored liquor out of a crystal glass on a loveseat, no one appears to be paying any attention to me, so he must be the cause of my angst.

  The good-looking stranger dips his chin when he realizes he’s captured my attention. After returning his greeting, I make my way to a group of people congregating at the back of the foyer, diligent that there’s always strength in numbers.

  As I drift across the vast space, I keep an eye on the suspicious gentleman without turning my head. Other than his unsuitably long gawk, he seems innocent enough. I’d give anything for my intuition to pick up the same vibe. It’s warning me to remain cautious. It’s not a caveat that comes with a nasty side of fear. It’s just an alarm that won’t be doused without further evaluation.

  My pulse surges through my body when the stranger stands as soon as I reach the edge of the crowd. When I break through a group three deep, and he loses me from his sight, he rushes my way, his steps hurried. I maintain a calm, cool approach, confident months of training and on-field tactical responses will keep me safe, not to mention the drills my uncle ran me through from when I was a child.

  While moving slowly through the crowd, I watch the stranger in a floor-to-ceiling mirror that spans one side of the foyer. He maintains an adequate distance between us, having me wonder if he’s trained in surveillance. If I had to guess his age, I’d say early to mid-twenties. His dark brown hair is clipped close at the sides, but the top is loose and shaggy. His vibrant, dark brown eyes stand out on his beige skin, and he’s tall, at least six-foot-three. He has a fit build that even his suit can’t hide the impressive span of his biceps and thighs.

  When my eyes return to his face, I choke on my spit. He’s peering at me in the same mirror I studied him from. His brow is quirked, either amused by my stare or frustrated by it. If his smirk is anything to go by, I’m leaning toward the former. I swear I’ve seen him before, but I can’t place his face. Col has many ‘family’ members, so there’s no way I’d recognize every face I’ve scanned the past few months.

  I follow the direction of the stranger’s eyes when he peers past my shoulder. Hugo is heading my way, his strides long and efficient. When I return my eyes to the mystery man, his smirk switches to a smile before he vanishes amongst the crowd—not even his impressive height keeps him in my sight.

  The shudder of my thighs is felt by Hugo when he sets his hand on my shoulder. “What’s wrong?” His eyes bounce between the hundreds of people swarming us. “Where’s Brandon?”

  “Umm…”

  I’m so confused, I can’t form words. My interaction with the stranger was unnerving, but I didn’t feel threatened by him. If he wanted to harm me, he would have made his move before Hugo arrived. The fact he didn’t has me suspicious of his motives.

  Before I can get a grip on reality, a new type of idealism courses through my body. As the hairs on my neck prickle, I spin in a circle, slowing drinking in the vast assembly of people in the one space. The gala organizers are opening the ballroom’s frosted glass doors, meaning most attendees are assembled there, but my body’s heightened response is directing me down another path. I can’t see Isaac, but I know he’s here. I can feel him.

  My breath traps in my throat when my eyes collide with Isaac’s not even three seconds later. He’s standing on the bottom step of the hotel’s elegant staircase, staring straight at me. The pulse in my neck descends to my pussy when my eyes soak up the sexually satisfying visual of his delicious body encased in a black tuxedo, white dress shirt, and black bow tie. He looks ravishingly hot, and he’s making me sticky all over.

  I’m not the only one enjoying the visual. My inner vixen screams in euphoria when a seductive smirk forms on Isaac’s well-carved mouth after he drinks in my outfit. His jaw has that taut look, the one that reveals he either approves of my outfit or is desperate to peel it off me. I’ll be happy with any decision he makes.

  After placing a black mask over his eyes, he hops off the bottom step before moving toward a sea of black tuxedos. Because of the large volume of people gathered in one space, I soon lose him in the crowd.

  I lift my glowing eyes to Hugo, who’s waggling his brows at me. “Put your mask on.” He snags my black and silver feathered-design mask from my hand before spinning me around to secure the silver straps into place. “Now, go get him.”

  Enthusiasm clusters in my pussy when he barges me toward the horde of people entering the gala’s ballroom. I can’t see Isaac, but his magnetizing pull is undeniable. It guides my steps, and every one taken increases the zing of intimacy that binds us together. Not even Hugo tracing my every move can dampen it.

  A short time later, a fingertip brushes across my bare shoulder. The zap it arrives with is too intense to belong to any other man. It had to come from Isaac. My body only responds to him with this much intensity.

  With wide eyes and clammy palms, I pivot around to face him. Confusion rockets through me when I discover a tall African American man and his wife standing behind me. They eye me cautiously, curious as to why I’m bizarrely glancing at them.

  After a quick apology, my gaze shifts to Hugo. Grinning, he shrugs, but before he can articulate any of the theories in his eyes, the faint yet deep rumble of “Isabelle” slicks my panties with moisture. When my name is quickly followed by the
briefest skim of a hand past my thigh, I crank my head to the left before slowly shifting it to the right. I know Isaac is here, teasing me, but the endless sea of black tuxedos thwarts my search.

  I pace through the crowd, my steps guided by my body’s awareness of Isaac. The air is thick with humidity, but it can’t mask Isaac’s alluring scent. It’s as potent as the excitement heating my veins.

  Eager to suck in his panty-wetting aroma, I close my eyes to enhance my sense of smell before drawing in a big breath through my nostrils. My heart thuds my ribs when his scent doubles a mere second before the softest pair of lips sweep past my parched mouth.

  My eyes snap open in just enough time to catch a flurry of a black weaving through the dense crowd. With a broad grin etched on my mouth, I push through the herd of people to chase Isaac down. I know what he’s doing. He’s punishing me for my defiance earlier today. Since I forced him to interact with me, he’ll torment me until pleas for forgiveness fill his ears. It’s an enthralling game we’ve played many times before.

  The natural wave of the crowd has our game soon spilling into the ballroom. The room is decorated with silver and black silk stretched as far as the eye can see. Mirrored balls bounce diamonds onto every flat surface. Black long-stemmed roses in crystal vases adorn each table, and multi-hued chandeliers encourage a visually stimulating display, but it isn’t elegance that has my heart galloping. It’s every gentle touch Isaac hits me with as his relentless pursuit to unravel me continues without pause.

  The faint brush of his fingers has my head slinging in all directions, but I’ve yet to catch sight of him since our kiss over fifteen minutes ago. He’s like a ghost meandering in and out of the crowd with ease and simplicity.

  By the time I make it onto the jam-packed dance floor, my panties are saturated, and pleas for forgiveness are sitting on the tip of my tongue. He’s teased my shoulders, neck, thighs, and both my arms, but the most passionate one was the one that skimmed the back of my knees. It shamefully buckled my knees and had me wishing we were alone.