6. Isabel
6
ISABEL
I made eye contact with the tall man further back in the chaos of the club.
The instant I locked down on him, watching me with those serious brown eyes, almost glaring as if I’d been wrecking his life, I knew it was him. He had to be the cause of that funkiness I couldn’t shake. He had to be the guy who was following me. Stalking me.
Damn it.
It was definitely him. Tons of people were crowding in here, drinking, laughing, and dancing. An atmosphere of high spirits and the freedom to party weighed over the clubbing crowd. Men were checking out potential hookups. Women were dancing and shooting others sly looks to beckon them to join in on the fun. And vice versa. The mob of twentysomethings mixed with thirtysomethings and beyond. Tourists and locals. Singles and couples. This club was hopping and all kinds of looks were shared.
I wasn’t so full of myself as to assume too many were noticing me , specifically. With the hope of blending in and not standing out at all, I didn’t warrant any extra stares or ogling looks. I wasn’t wearing anything designer. I wasn’t going out of my way to reveal all the possible skin I could without being caught for public indecency.
But that man was most definitely looking at me .
Hurrying away, I held in my panic and tried to cram my way further into the crowd. Music blared too loudly, shaking from the floor up and juddering through each footstep I took. Dancing strangers stood as gyrating obstacles to weave around, but I had to look back once more. Just to check.
There he was, still after me. His stern gaze didn’t reach me, since I was tucked behind a tall man, but he was still there, intent on reaching his prey.
All doubt faded. There was no question in my mind. He was, most definitely, hunting me down.
Fucking hell.
I’d hoped. I’d wondered. In my hotel room, I paced all afternoon and into the evening until I broke down and had room service bring me a late dinner. Leaving my room didn’t seem like a great idea when I was analyzing and debating my dilemma. Figuring out if I had a dilemma was the first step. I had to decide whether my problem was imagined or real.
Very real. That man is definitely, absolutely following me.
I questioned myself all afternoon and night because it just seemed so unlikely. I had cut ties with my father when I was sixteen. Seven long years ago, I emancipated myself from him. The day the judge ruled in my favor for me to officially go no-contact was the day I said no more to being Louis Flores’s daughter.
Adios . So long. Farewell.
I’d kissed my life with him goodbye and never looked back. Making my life my own as an artist and struggling to stay in place long enough to really make any friends, I'd turned the page and chosen a new chapter in my future. And in those seven years, I didn’t hear a peep from him.
I never looked him up. I didn’t want to know what kind of mayhem he was starting.
I never reached out. I didn’t want to worsen the ire and frustration that came with his crappy parenting and lack of care about me.
Seven years had passed, and it was as though I’d succeeded in erasing the fact that I was once related to him.
Of course, I couldn’t wipe out my genetic connection to him. He had contributed to my existence. Like my mother told the staff at Bayshore Residences, I was a product of my father.
“She wants nothing to do with you because you’re tainted by your father.”
That was the line that she gave them. And it was true. I was half my mother, half my father. And she hated him so much that her resentment included me. Her own child.
“Hey there.” A man reached his arm around my waist, getting too close when I wasn’t paying attention in my mad rush to get through the crowd. Now that I knew my stalker was closing in on me, I wanted to escape out through the other side of the building.
This guy dancing like he wanted to be a porn star was telling me not so fast .
I played along, though, not wanting to cause a scene. Causing a scene was the last thing I needed to do. I had to just get out of here. Blend in. And blending into this club would mean dancing.
Pushing him back, I moved to the music and smiled while checking for my stalker again.
“How you doing, baby?” he asked as he tried again to crowd in on me.
I put my hand to his chest, keeping him back but still looking like I was just any other woman dancing. One who didn’t want him to touch me. Using this position to look past him again, I caught sight of that thick black hair. The glint of silver in his earring.
Dammit. He was getting nearer. People writhed and moved to the music between us, but he was closing in on me.
Without replying to the man, I sidestepped and eased away from him.
What does he want?
Why is he after me now?
What’s going on?
This fear that had gone dormant within me rose to the surface and made it seem like my skin was too tight, like the room didn’t have enough oxygen. Panic attacks were a frequent issue back before I struck out on my own. I didn’t suffer from them once I left that life as Louis’s daughter. But the creeping sensation returned now.
Being followed was nothing new. I’d dealt with the possibility of my father’s enemies targeting me back then. He was that unscrupulous. That corrupt. That much of a sneaky cheat that all kinds of business associates and rivals could try to take his family as leverage, to manipulate him into bending to what they wanted.
But I distanced myself. I did all I could to show the world I was separate from Louis Flores. Annoyance cut through this rising panic, and I seethed that whatever my father was up to could still reach me somehow.
I don’t want to be dragged into his bullshit. Again.
And on a vacation?
Anger replaced the annoyance. I couldn’t even panic anymore. Fury ruled now.
How dare they?
How fucking dare this man insinuate that I have any tie to him?
I had nothing to share or reveal. Blissfully ignorant, I had nothing to be targeted for. Nothing. Zilch. No secrets. No wealth, since I lived on what I made. I was nothing to Louis Flores, just like I intended to be.
So it was with deep fury that I damned this man to follow me.
The audacity…
Reaching the other side of the crowd dancing to the music, I paused and tried to locate a sign that would indicate an exit out the back. There had to be one. There were way too many people in here for the front door to be the only point of egress.
Relying on the safety of numbers, safer in this crowd than on my own yet, I kept on dancing—by myself—within the crowd. Blending in was key. Until I could scope out a clear exit, I’d stay right here. As soon as the lights could point the way out, I’d hide among these dancers. Then, I could bolt.
Screw this vacation. I’d already been debating whether I should give up on a change of scenery to make me feel less alone. But now this pushed me closer to that answer.
I’ll go.
As a couple of men danced with me, blocking me from sight, I planned.
I can fly home and get my supplies, then go to Tampa and start that mural.
It felt like defeat in the pursuit of happiness, of spending the holidays somewhere exotic, but as I spotted my stalker in the crowd, I knew that was just one excuse.
Running from a stalker was a logical reaction. It was an example of how I could survive.
But if I ever had to have a stalker…
Over the men’s shoulders, I checked him out. Again. And again. With the flashing lights in the club, I could only catch glimpses of him. At first, it started as a way to track his progress in chasing after me. The more I caught looks of him, though…
Damn.
I couldn’t deny he was sexy. Dark, broody, and mysterious, yes. But also hot as hell and a fine-looking specimen of the male variety. Tall, muscular. Dark stubble and hair lining a trimmed beard and mustache. A stubborn lock of his wavy and slightly curly black hair drooped over his brow, and it wasn’t legal or fair how much sexier it made him, how much more of a bad boy he looked like.
My stalker wasn’t an interested passerby who’d happened to check me out and be intrigued.
This dark and brooding asshole looked like a powerful man intent on getting what he wanted.
I’d never been a fan of the typical Alpha man. Alphaholes were too much of a headache. So many of the associates Louis dealt with were like that—cocky, self-centered, and full of themselves.
But this guy…
I furrowed my brow, looking away and forcing myself to stop checking him out. To stop letting my gaze wander back to him.
I couldn’t help but feel like prey cornered by a predator. It wasn’t even fair that I was being targeted or cornered at all.
Yet, I liked it.
I’d never been the kind of woman who’d lower her standards to be desperate for a man’s attention. Never. I was who I was, and if a guy was interested, he could take it or leave it. What you saw was what you got.
But I liked the idea of this man hunting me down.
A twisted thrill lit up my senses that I could be the prey this stalker was following.
The concept of enjoying the hunt was a complex offshoot of playing hard to get, but that wasn’t what was happening here.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Something had to be severely messed up if I was getting excited about that tall, dark, and handsome excuse for a stalker preying on me.
It’d been a while since I’d gotten laid, but still, this was stupid. It was one hundred percent idiotic to let myself turn my situation into something of an adventure.
Just leave already. Go and fly home. Get out of here.
I turned, swaying with the music.
Then I stopped short as the man stood right in front of me, inches away.
I held my breath and stared right into the dark eyes of the man who was stalking me.