The Mystery Unmasked: Enigma, #3

by Shandi Boyes

  “Do you feel better?” Hugo’s question arrives with a fresh batch of laughter.

  I whack him with my clutch purse. “Shut up,” I mutter while keeping my gaze fixed on anything but his chortling face. “Where’s Isaac?”

  Hugo nudges his head to the large group of people filling the ballroom. “He had to make a call. He said to put your mask back on, then he’ll meet you inside.” He hands me the mask I left in the storage room before guiding me back into the wealthy-smelling room.

  I snag a glass of wine off a silver waiter’s tray halfway in. The gala has the distinct aura of poise and importance—a category I don’t belong in. Even with their eyes covered by colorful masks, I feel the heat of several pairs of male eyes following me as Hugo and I float across the room. Obviously, my attempts to clean myself up was pointless.

  My leisured pace slows when I spot the gentleman who was watching me earlier tonight. He’s at the bar with a glass of whiskey in his hand, and his dark eyes are planted on me. When he notices he’s captured my attention, a smirk curls his lips. Just like earlier tonight, I’m not afraid of him, but my intuition is once again immensely piqued. He’s watching me but in an unthreatening nature.

  Letting my curiosity get the better of me, I stroll toward him. My quick steps falter when he shakes his head, requesting me to leave him alone. I freeze as my brows narrow down my face. He stares at me for several heart-thrashing seconds before his eyes flick to the other side of the room. He watches Isaac walk through the frosted glass doors at the entrance of the ballroom. Even with his alluring gray eyes covered with a black mask, his authoritative charisma can’t be hidden. A man with an aura like his doesn’t require an introduction.

  My breathing levels when I turn my gaze back to the bar to discover the mysterious stranger has vanished. I frantically search my surrounding areas, growing dizzy when my eyes dart between hundreds of men wearing similar black tuxedos. A huff parts my lips when I don’t locate him anywhere.

  “Did you see the guy sitting at the bar?” I raise my eyes to Hugo before nudging my head to the bar the stranger was seated at. “The one staring at me?”

  Hugo slings his head in the direction I nudged. “Which one? There’s at least a dozen of them.”

  “He isn’t there now. He just left.”

  Hugo shakes his head. “No, I didn’t see him.” He steps to stand in front of me, blocking the bar from my view. “Is that what made you rattled earlier tonight? A man?”

  Yes. “No.”

  His brows shoot up his face as he works his jaw side to side. He doesn’t need to say anything. His look alone calls out on my deceit.

  “He didn’t rattle me, he just… startled me.” My voice is as confused as I feel. “His face seems familiar, but I’m having a hard time recalling if I saw it while scanning Col Petretti’s file into the FBI database, or if it’s from a more personal setting.”

  Hugo’s carefree attitude changes to menacing in an instant. “Do you think he’s one of Col’s men?”

  “I don’t know,” I reply with a shrug. “I just have a feeling I’ve seen him before.” I stop talking to suck in a big breath. “He knows who Isaac is, though, as he gestured to him just now.”

  Hugo curses under his breath. His scorn is quiet, but it still gains him the attention of the pompous-looking people mingling around us. A lady in a cream sleeveless sheath dress huffs before she saunters away from us with her nose held high in the air.

  Suddenly, the hairs on my arms bristle, announcing that Isaac is close. My heart warms when he wraps his arms around my waist before pulling me in close. Once his torso is warming my back, he presses his lips to my temple.

  Although I’m floating into the lust haze Isaac always instigates, the pleading look in Hugo’s eyes keeps my feet on the ground. No words escape his lips, but he’s wearing the same pleading look he had when he begged me to let Isaac’s security team into Megan’s family residence before the authorities.

  After exhaling a breath to release the nerves knotting my stomach, I nod. Hugo smiles, pleased his big baby blues eyes worked before locking his eyes to Isaac. “We need to leave. There’s an unsecured threat to Izzy in the gala.”

  Isaac stiffens before his arm drops to the lower half of my back. Without speaking a word, he guides me out of the ballroom and through the foyer of the hotel. Even with having his impressive reputation hidden behind a mask, the crowd parts when they see him coming. The heat bouncing off him settles the shiver running down my spine, but I’m still worried.

  When Isaac leads us out of the hotel’s revolving doors, we skirt past Brandon and Melody chatting at the side. My pleading eyes lock with Hugo’s, hoping he’ll inform Brandon of our departure. They narrow into thin, angry slits when he shakes his head, soundlessly denying my request.

  A black town car skids to a stop at the front of the hotel, its sudden arrival shocking the concierge attendants. Snubbing their alarmed gazes, Isaac opens the back-passenger door before gesturing for me to enter first. I slip inside, then slide across the cold bench seat, the coolness of the leather giving relief to my overheated skin. After talking in hushed whispers with Hugo, Isaac slides into place next to me and slams the door shut.

  “Isn’t Hugo coming with us?” I peer at Hugo through the heavily tinted windows as the car pulls into the bustling traffic.

  “No. He’ll scope the area to see if he can locate the gentleman he saw you with earlier.” His darkened eyes shift from glancing outside to me. “Why didn’t you tell me there was a threat when I first arrived?”

  “He wasn’t threatening. His interest did startle me, but if he truly wanted to hurt me, he had the opportunity to…” My words dither when an angry growl rips from Isaac’s snapped-shut lips. “He had the opportunity to, but he didn’t hurt me. I don’t believe he intended to harm me, Isaac. Not every man is a threat to my safety.”

  “Jesus Christ, Isabelle.”

  As he scrubs at the stubble on his chin, silence encroaches our vehicle. It’s tense and awkward but gives me plenty of time to study Isaac’s eye-catching profile. His unshaven jaw is ticking, and his fists are clenched into tight balls, but my body still aches for his closeness. Even with him sitting right beside me, he seems distant.

  After sliding across the bench seat, I place my hand over his enclosed fist. Pain stabs my chest when he peers into my eyes. His stern glare can’t hide a facial expression I’ve never seen before. It’s a look that forces my heart to stop beating, an expression I never thought I’d see tainting his face. It’s the look of fear. It’s clouding his eyes’ normal appeal, corrupting them in a thick haze of doubt. I did that to him. I made him feel this way. So, it’s my job to make things right.

  Not seeking permission, I climb onto his lap to straddle him. I press my lips to the tick in his jaw before nuzzling into his neck where I inhale deeply, loving our romp is still evident on his skin. His silence weighs heavily on my chest. So many words want to spill from my lips, but I hold them back, realizing the best way to comfort him is by showing him I’m safe and protected.

  The concierge at the hotel doesn’t bat an eye when he opens the door, and Isaac slides with me still in his lap. He maintains his quiet front when he sets me onto my feet before encasing his hand around mine. His grip is tight, alluding to his authority but not firm enough to cause me any pain.

  Our walk through the impressively large hotel lobby to the elevators at the back is made in silence. The elevator attendant ushers us into a private elevator at the side of the gold-speckled corridor with tabletops decorated with white Phalaenopsis orchids.

  Isaac doesn’t utter a word, but the attendant jumps into action. He places a key into the panel on the internal wall of the elevator and hits the ‘P’ button at the very top of the dashboard before removing his key and exiting the elevator car. It ascends straight to the top floor, not stopping at any of the levels highlighted on the panel.

  My pulse twangs faster when we exit into a corridor with a burg
undy and gold wool hallway runner down the middle. We head toward a set of double doors with ‘Presidential Suite’ written on a plaque next to them. My pupils widen nearly as large as my mouth when we walk into the room. It’s so massive, a cheerleading tournament could be held here.

  After relinquishing my hand from his firm grip, Isaac strides to a set of cream French doors at the side of the expansive living area. His strides are so fast, I have trouble keeping up.

  “Wow,” I murmur breathlessly when the twinkling lights of the city skyline come into sight. The view is awe-inspiring.

  My jaw drops more with every step I take toward the large floor-to-ceiling windows. Nothing but the flickering of lights against a backdrop of skyscrapers can be seen, and because we’re on the very top floor, the people milling along the sidewalks are as tiny as ants.

  When Isaac groans my name in a gruff, surly moan, I pivot to face him. Lines are creasing his forehead, and his eyelids are close to touching.

  “Sorry. I was distracted by the view.” Although, it’s nowhere near as inviting as what I’m viewing now.

  Isaac has kicked off his black polished dress shoes, removed his tuxedo jacket, and his black bow tie is unknotted and dangling around his neck. My mouth waters when he yanks the pleated white dress shirt out of his black trousers.

  “Have you eaten tonight?”

  I shake my head, unable to take my eyes off the delicious visual of him stripping to formulate words. We only left the storage room forty minutes ago, but the rush of excitement is still pumping through me.

  He moves toward the king-size bed to gather the room service menu off the bedside table. “Do you want a full meal or something light?”

  I shrug. “A cheeseburger and some fries?”

  He watches me in silence, aware I’m usually more cautious about the number of carbs I consume after seven o’clock.

  “My period is due.”

  I cringe, but Isaac makes a face like everything suddenly makes sense. After ordering two cheeseburgers and a serving of fries, he requests for a large bowl of chocolate mint ice cream to be brought an hour later for dessert. It’s my favorite ice-cream when cramps are hitting me.

  Thirty minutes later, we’re sitting in the living area of the suite eating mouth-salivating burgers. Grease dribbles down my hands from the overgenerous serving of swiss cheese, but I’m enjoying every delicious bite. We’re sitting on a thick Persian rug using the coffee table as a dining table. There’s an antique setting on our left, but you can’t eat burgers and fries in a formal dining area. That’d be like taking McDonald’s into one of Isaac’s fancy restaurants.

  Isaac’s designer tuxedo has been replaced with a pair of well-fitted jeans and a blue cotton V-neck shirt. He’s barefoot and eye-catchingly gorgeous, although he’s returned to the mute I met at the airport many months ago. He maintained his quiet self the past half hour, only talking when he’s taken the occasional call on his cell. The fear plaguing his eyes earlier has dampened, ruefully overpowered by fury.

  Gorged and minutes from sinking into a carbohydrate coma, I push away the plate of fries before bracing my back on the plush sofa. I’m so stuffed, I need to pop the top button on the jeans I slipped into before joining Isaac in the living area. When my eyes leisurely scan the beautiful suite decorated with rich materials and antique furniture, I wonder how Isaac can afford to pay his staff so well and live such an extravagant lifestyle.

  After absorbing the luxurious surroundings, my eyes turn to an even more compelling visual. Since Isaac is so fixated on his iPhone, he fails to detect my snooping glance. His brows are pulled together, and his lips are set in a hard line. His furious composure should have me recoiling. It doesn’t. I’m on the opposite end of the spectrum.

  When he throws down his phone with a huff, I ask, “Did Hugo find him?” I don’t want to increase his anger. I’m just curious.

  Isaac shakes his head. “No. It appears he left the gala the instant you did.”

  Anger radiates off him, making the room so stifling, it feels like I’m sitting next to a furnace. When he abruptly stands and paces into the master suite, I scamper off the sofa and chase him down. He shoots me a vicious glare when I enter the room on his heels. He balls his fists as a vicious scowl contorts his handsome face.

  Over his moody, brooding machoism, I strip out of my clothing, leaving them where they fall. Once my cashmere sweater, jeans, and cami are removed, I kick them to the side, then pace toward him. My heart wallops my chest more with every step I take, but I don’t back down.

  “Where do you want me?” When I stand in front of him in a strapless steel gray push-up bra and lace boy-leg panties, he arches a brow. “You’re angry at me, and you want to punish me, so where do you want me? On the bed? In the shower? Against the wall?” I stray my eyes to each location I mention. “Punish me. Get it out of your system, then we can move onto wading through the next shit-storm that hits us because it never ends, Isaac. The whole fucking universe is against us being together.”

  Part of my grouchy mood has to do with my period being due, but the compilation of everything that’s happened the past two weeks is also catching up with me.

  “I don’t care who the fuck is against us, Isabelle, all I care about is keeping you safe. He could have hurt you.” His voice heaves with uncontrollable anger. “But instead of telling me you were in danger when I arrived, you let me fuck you in the storage room like some sort of… of—”

  “Whore?” I fill in. “Is that the word you’re seeking? Or maybe prostitute as that seems to be a term of endearment for me lately.”

  “Don’t put words in my mouth!”

  Tears burn my eyes from the anger flaring through his eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I’m too angry to give him the satisfaction of witnessing my tears.

  “I wasn’t scared of him, Isaac—”

  “Then that makes you an idiot.” His words crack out of his mouth like a whip. “You don’t know these people like I know them. They’re ruthless.”

  “Go ahead, add more taunts to the list of names I’ve been called the past two weeks, but don’t you dare pretend I don’t know who these people are.” My voice loudens as my anger is unleashed. “The fact my father sold me to the highest bidder makes me acutely aware of how ruthless they are!”

  When I brush away a stupid tear sitting high on my cheek, hesitation sparks in Isaac’s furious gaze. When he attempts to cup my face, I step back, denying him the opportunity.

  “Call me an idiot, stupid, naïve, or even a whore if you want, but my gut was telling me he wasn’t going to hurt me. I trust my intuition, Isaac, because it’s what I use to guide my relationship with you, and it’s the only thing keeping my head above water right now.” I inhale a shaky breath that rattles my chest cavity. “I know it’s hard for you to understand, but I truly don’t believe he was going hurt me, just like I know you didn’t sleep with Clara.”

  When guilt darkens Isaac’s eyes, the air is forcefully removed from my lungs. I slap my hand over my mouth when my stomach violently recoils. Even though no words seep from his lips, the liability in his eyes stabs my heart, physically wounding me.

  Dizziness impedes me when I collect my clothing discarded haphazardly around the room. When Isaac attempts to still my swaying movements, I yank away from him. “Don’t touch me!”

  He takes a step backward with his hands held out in front of himself. “Jesus Christ, Isabelle, give me a chance to explain.”

  I snarl at him while yanking my jeans up my thighs. “There’s nothing to explain. You either slept with Clara, or you didn’t.”

  “It isn’t that simple. Not everything is black and white—”

  “Yes, it is! There’s no gray for stuff like this.”

  Anger courses through me when he is unable to maintain eye contact. Shaking my head in disgust, I throw on my cami, not bothering with my sweater since fury is heating me from the inside out. My anger is so fierce, it dried every tear threatening to s
pill down my face.

  While sucking in a deep breath, my eyes scan the room, searching for the purse I dumped on the way in. “Where do you think you’re going?” Isaac questions when I snatch it off the side table.

  “As far away from you as possible.”

  “Isabelle...”

  His dangerous tone clatters through my chest, but it does little to slow me down. “No. Not this time. You said nothing would come between us. Not Regan. Not Col. Not Theresa, but you failed to mention the one thing that could. This hasn’t just come between us, Isaac, it broke us. I thought I knew you, the real Isaac Holt, not the enigma, but I don’t know you at all. I’m just as clueless as the rest of them.”

  When I spin on my heels to race to the door, he seizes my wrist. Using my free hand, I slap him hard across the face. My palm sets on fire causing more tears to spring from my eyes.

  Isaac inhales a sharp, quick breath as his dark, tormented eyes stare straight into mine. They’re emotionless and unreadable and utterly annihilate my heart.

  “Goodbye, Isaac.”

  I yank out of his grasp before making a beeline for the door. This time, he doesn’t stop me. Through a blur of unshed tears, I throw it open, only making it part way out before I crash into a wall of flesh.

  Lifting my eyes, I’m met with the concerned face of Hugo. “Izzy, what’s wrong?”

  Unable to speak for fear of sobbing, I burrow my face into Hugo’s chest. Without speaking another word, he guides me to the elevator car idling at my floor. Just before the doors snap shut, the last thing I see is remorse flashing through a pair of alluring gray eyes.

  Chapter 27