Page 32 of Unraveling an Enigma
“Go sit, and I’ll bring coffee,” she instructs, sauntering over to stand in front of us. “You look like you could use some caffeine.” Her nose scrunches up, and a look of guilt washes over her face. “You both look like shit,” she informs us without hesitance.
The smallest smile etches on my mouth from Renee’s brazenness.She must get some of her qualities from her boss. My eyes shift to Harlow. She is also smiling at Renee’s bold comment. On closer inspection, I realize some of Renee’s statement does hold credit. Harlow looks tired and withdrawn. Her usually sparkling green eyes have dark circles plaguing them, and her cheeky smile isn’t as bright as usual.
After looping my arm in the crook of Harlow’s elbow, I drag her toward our table. We always congregate at the same table every time we get together here. It is the table Isaac was seated at when I first laid my eyes on him on his home turf six months ago. Every time I sit here, the smell of whole grain and rye toasted cheese sandwich filters through my nose, and memories of that day play in flashback.
Harlow remains quiet with her gaze planted on the tabletop. Her eyes only lift when Renee places two mugs of coffee between us and a gigantic slice of pumpkin pie. “You can’t have coffee without a slice of pie,” Renee says cheekily. After rubbing my shoulder, she makes herself scarce.
I don’t have the heart to tell Renee I hate anything associated with pumpkin. Pumpkin is the most disgusting vegetable I’ve ever tasted. Even with a whole heap of sugar and a super sweet pastry, I refuse to eat it. Even if she presented me with a chocolate pie, my stomach wouldn’t handle eating it. Not with how much it is churning from the anxious expression tainting Harlow’s beautiful face.
After inhaling a shaky breath, I curl my hand over Harlow’s clenched fist. “Do you need me to go and talk to Cormack again?”
I was hoping Cormack had taken Hugo’s advice and patched things up with Harlow, but from the expression on her face, I’m going to assume he hasn’t.
The pressure on my chest weakens when a smile curls on Harlow’s red-painted lips. “No, we are okay, but thank you for offering.”
Her smile enlarges to a full-size grin. “The make-up sex was great, so I should probably be thanking you.”
Our giggles bounce around the interior of the bakery.
After blowing the steaming hot coffee to cool down its scorching heat, I take a little swig. “So what’s with the odd expression on your face? You look….” I stop talking mid-sentence, giving my eyes time to accurately assess the look marring Harlow’s face. “Scared?”
Harlow is just as shocked as I am by my admission. Harlow is one of the toughest girls I’ve ever met. She handled the whole Tatiana incident with impressive and dignified composure. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen Harlow rattled. Hold on, yes I have. It was when we first arrived at the McGregor residence.
Before any words can escape my lips, Harlow questions, “Did you know Cormack’s Sister, Clara, is now living in Ravenshoe?”
I briskly shake my head. “But to be honest, I didn’t have a clue where she lived,” I inform her frankly.
Harlow nods as she lifts the rim of her mug to her mouth. After swallowing her sweetened black coffee, her eyes meet mine. “She used to reside in New York, but she moved to Ravenshoe the weekend we returned from our trip to the McGregor residence. She is living in a fancy apartment building located in Hyde Place.”
In a split second, my heart stops beating. It could be a coincidence, but Isaac’sfuck padis in Hyde Place.
Harlow’s brows furrow together so tightly, lines indent her forehead. “Do you remember me begging you not to leave me alone when you first woke up from your famous wine and Xanax blackout concoction?”
Air blows out of my nostrils as I chuckle under my breath. “Yep. I just remembered it was the first time I ever saw you rattled.”
One of Harlow’s shoulders lifts into a shrug. “That was because of Clara,” she informs me as an anxious expression stains her face. “She doesn’t like me very much,” she adds on with an exaggerated roll of her eyes.
“Is she creating trouble between you and Cormack?”
Harlow’s lips thin. “I can’t one hundred percent testify to that, but I’m fairly sure she is narking in his ear at every available opportunity.” Her eyes lift and lock with mine. “The billionaire and the bakery owner isn’t a story she wants plotted out.”
“Pffft, then that shows she is an idiot. I know hundreds of readers that would gobble up a story like that. She just doesn’t understand modern day fairy tales,” I banter wittily.
My heart warms when her full cheeky grin stretches across her beautiful face. Leaning over the table, I glance into her green eyes. “Give as good as you are getting, Harlow,” I suggest firmly.
The most mischievous, wicked grin etches on Harlow’s face.
“That goes for the both of us, Kettle,” she remarks with her manicured brow arched high.
“Yes, it does.”
And from right now, I’m going to do exactly that.
Isaac
“That doesn’t look like the face of a traitor.”
I close my laptop screen, which is displaying a surveillance camera image of Isabelle leaning against my office door. In the photo, her teeth have caught her bottom lip, and she has her eyes snapped shut, internally battling not to let her tears spill down her ashen face. The hurt projected in her beautiful chocolate eyes when I insulted her cut through me like a knife. I’ve been torturing myself for the past hour watching the surveillance video of the incident over and over again.If Isabelle was paid to sleep with me, why did she react to my taunt?
