scratching his beard the only noise resonating down the line. “For Alex to go this far, he must be desperate. Maybe hold back and see how it plays out.”
“I can’t hold back.”
A chair squeaks like Grayson is adjusting his position. He’s more a sloucher than a shoulders-rolled-back, spine-straight type of guy. “Why, Brandon? Because you’ve transferred your hero complex from Melody to Isabelle?”
I make a pfft noise. “It has nothing to do with that.” It does, but I sure as fuck don’t want to be called out on it. Although I wouldn’t necessarily say it’s a hero complex. Seeing the lost blankness in Isabelle’s eyes when she was grappling with Alex reminded me what it felt like to have no one on your side. It’s an experience I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy, let alone an orphan who has nothing. “We’re friends, that’s all.”
I picture Grayson’s cell phone speaker being coated with spit when he blows a raspberry. “Friends like you were with Melody? Or the friendship you had with Olivia? You know how this will end, punk. It’s not worth it, so step back now before you get burned for the second time.”
Brandon
Two months later…
This sucks to admit, and never in a trillion years did I think I’d ever say this, but Grayson was right two months ago. The burn this time around is nothing compared to what I experienced when Melody left me, nor the event I’m endeavoring to forget five years ago, but my ‘friendship’ with Isabelle definitely has enough sting to it to cause a blister.
It’s not my fault I can’t step back. For years, I was programmed to protect, honor, obey, and serve. It isn’t something I can easily switch off, especially when it comes to women. If I didn’t step forward to help Isabelle, Alex’s plan to make her the Honey Pot of his operation will end as disastrously as the sting that claimed Tobias’s life. That isn’t an unfavorable chance. It’s a statistic. It just won’t be Alex left reeling once all is said and done. That burden will be solely placed on Isabelle’s shoulders.
Isabelle has not yet fallen for Alex’s ruse, but she has failed to notice how he’s inconspicuously placing her on Isaac’s radar. Between sending her to gather coffees from a local baker at the exact time Isaac has been observed in the area by the surveillance crew following his every move, to granting her a weekend off so she can release some of the pent-up wildness in her eyes with the hope it will initiate the natural dominance that beams out of Isaac anytime Isabelle is in his vicinity, he’s all but dangling her in front of Isaac, luring him to take a moral-eradicating bite.
Alex’s ploys are older than the handbook they are taught from, but regretfully, Isabelle seems blind to his deception. She doesn’t realize how far some men go to snare their targets because she was raised by a man who valued respect above anything.
As was I.
That’s why I’m here at a dance club in desperate need of a fresh coat of paint and better clientele, ordering the largest cocktail on the menu, praying the wooziness it will cause Isabelle’s head will have her failing to notice Isaac eyeballing her from the corner of the room.
Now I understand why Alex slipped pamphlets for this nightclub into the break room at HQ earlier this week. Isaac is known for spending his Friday nights scouting new business endeavors. Alex must have caught wind that Isaac would be here tonight.
I could let Alex know I’m onto his ruse, but just like Grayson and I have kept our connection on the down-low, I’m going to keep this set of cards close to my chest as well. A good agent never lets his unease be announced prematurely because it isn’t about the hand you’ve been dealt but what you make of it that counts.
When I replace Isabelle’s bottle of water with the mammoth cocktail I just purchased, her nose screws up, but before she can voice a single worry I see in her eyes, I say, “Who knows when we might get another day off?”
I throw back a double scotch on the rocks, grimacing when it burns my throat. I’m not a fan of hard liquor, but I figured it would make my ploy more authentic if I drank along with Isabelle and Harlow, Isabelle’s friend. I nursed my first drink to make it seem like I’ve had four or five,