Page 15 of Enigma: The Final Chapter
We’ve spent the last hour in silence. It hasn’t been uncomfortable. We just don’t require words to articulate our thoughts. The intimacy that forever surges between us still crackles in the air, but there's something stronger, more tangible, expressing what our words have failed to communicate.
Isabelle inhales a sharp, quick breath before her head pops off my shoulder. “I remember what happened. Col knew who I was. He said he recognized me the instant he saw me as I’m the spitting image of my mom.” Her nose screws up as she battles to hold in her tears. “He killed her, Isaac. Col murdered my mother because she wouldn’t give herself to him.”
My lungs feel heavy, making it hard for me to breathe. I knew the type of man Col was—heartless and foreboding. That’s why I strived so hard to keep Isabelle away from him. My plan only altered when he produced his gun. Even though I wanted to look in his eyes while I made him suffer as he did me seven years ago, my virulent desire to protect Isabelle overwhelmed me.
Before I could comprehend what was happening, I charged for her, sheltering her body with mine. My desire to keep her safe annulled my toxic need for revenge. That, in itself, shows her importance to me. Even revenge I craved for years doesn’t come close to my yearning for her safety.
I gather Isabelle back into my chest to settle her tears. Although the stories Isabelle shared of her family revealed she didn’t have a close bond with her mother, she’d still be pained to know she was murdered.
“I only realized who Enrique was when his eyes filled with fear. It was the same look he had any time our father came to visit us.” Her words flutter my dress shirt. “I should have taken him with me, Isaac. I should have saved him from that lifestyle.”
I place my hand under her chin and raise her downcast head. “You were only a child. You aren’t to blame for the man he grew up to be.”
“I know that, but he never had the chance to grow up to be a respected member of society with Vladimir as his father.” Her eyes dart between mine. “If he came with us, he would’ve at least stood a chance of a normal upbringing.”
I don’t attempt to rebut her statement as everything she said is true. It’s the reason Henry ensured his son wasn’t raised in this lifestyle. It’s the sole reason he sacrificed everything so his son wouldn’t be tarnished with the same brush that painted his life.
“I know you think he's a terrible man, Isaac, but I honestly don’t believe Enrique set out to hurt me.”
I stiffen as my jaw sets into a hard line. “You were gagged and bound to a chair, Isabelle.”
She cups my cheek with her hand that’s still wet from her tears, quelling some of the anger surging through my blood. “I know, but he gave me water, and he took care of me—”
“After drugging you twice!”
“He wasn’t the person who drugged me.” Her tone is remarkably stable for how fast her chest is heaving.
“It doesn’t change the particulars of the case. He kidnapped you and held you against your will. I know he's your brother, but you're looking at him as if he's the little boy you left behind. He's not that boy anymore. He's a man who was raised by a monster. He’ll be lucky to even have a heart in his chest.”
I instantly regret my outburst when Isabelle loses her battle to hold in her tears. Hot, salty liquid spills from her eyes as her pain stabs me right in my heart. A crying Isabelle is more than I can handle. Multi-million-dollar takeovers, ruthless mobsters, and dodging bullets are a walk in the park compared to dealing with her when she's crying. Every tear cuts me raw.
I scoot down the bed, keeping my grip tight, before rolling onto my side. Isabelle mimics my position but on her opposite hip. Guilt seeps into my veins when I peer at her tear-soaked face. I’d do anything in my power to protect my little brother, but I expect Isabelle to react differently when it’s her blood she's fighting to protect.
I use the pad of my thumb to remove her tears while my eyes issue silent apologies for my cruel words. After a few hiccups and too many tears to count, her cries lessen, and the weight on my chest eases.
“I’ll make a few calls and see what I can find out about your brother.”
She drags the cuff of her long-sleeve shirt under her nose before nodding. “Thank you.”
“But I can’t guarantee anything, Isabelle. I have to tread carefully, or I’ll run the risk that people will learn your secret. If I’m not cautious, they may find out who your father is.” My tone relays my genuine concern. If her secret is exposed, it will make her a target, just like it did for Henry, Jr.
“I can handle that.” Her tone is surprisingly firm. “With you by my side, I can handle anything.”
My first thought is gratitude, thankful she's planning on having me at her side, but that relief is short-lived, soon overtaken by apprehension. Just Isabelle being with me already places a bull’s eye on her back, not to mention when my competitors find out who her father is, but I'm a selfish man, and even though it would have been safer for Isabelle to have never met me, I have no intentions of giving her up.
Isabelle is mine, and I protect what is mine. If anyone tries to seek their revenge on her father against her, they’ll have to get through me first, and that is one fight they’ll never win.
Chapter 7
Isabelle
Warmth blooms across my chest when my eyes flutter open. Isaac and I are still lying in the hospital bed in the position we were last night. My head is buried in his chest, relishing his delicious scent, and his broad arms are wrapped around my torso, cocooning me with protectiveness.
This is the first time I’ve woken before him. Our body clocks were wired so differently, Isaac had to adjust to sleeping while the moon was still in the sky for the month I lived with him. But no matter how late he came to bed, he was awake and working in his office by the time I rose.
I glance out the window. The sun is beaming through the cracks of the plush curtains covering the large window. At a guess, I'd say it’s after eight. My eyes drop to scan Isaac’s handsome face. Even with us sleeping for nearly ten hours, he still appears tired. Obviously, I wasn’t the only one who lacked sleep during our separation.
Not wanting to wake him, I snuggle back into his chest where the soothing rhythm of his heart soon has me drifting back to sleep.
