Chapter 35
The Drive Home
Cal sat with both hands gripped at ten and two, his profile sharp and unyielding in the glow of the dashboard lights. The sandalwood that had seemed inviting an hour ago now felt thick and cloying in the small space.
Izzy stared out the side window at the dark silhouettes of the passing trees. She could feel the sulk rolling off him in heavy waves, a weight that made her want to reach for the door handle while the car was still moving.
“You’re very quiet,” Cal said, his voice clipped.
“It’s been a long day, Cal. I told you.”
“Right. The day.” He let out a short, sharp breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “It’s funny how the day only became an issue when I tried to show you how I felt. I thought we were having a moment back there, Isabella. I thought we were on the same page.”
“We were,” she said, finally looking at him. “But I’m allowed to have a limit, Cal. I’m allowed to say when it’s enough.”
His jaw worked, a muscle jumping in his cheek. He didn’t look at her. “I don’t like being handled, Isabella. And I don’t like being told ‘no’ after I’ve spent the entire day trying to make you feel welcome.”
“Is that what this was?” she asked, her voice dropping. “An investment? You pour the wine and put on a show, so you expect a payout?”
Cal’s grip tightened on the wheel until his knuckles turned white. He didn’t answer, but the quiet was an admission. He pushed the accelerator down, the Escalade surging forward with a predatory growl.
The headlights swept across the Scott farmhouse, illuminating the porch and the front of Burke’s truck. Cal brought the car to a sudden, jerky stop at the base of the steps. He didn’t kill the engine. He didn’t unlock the doors.
He turned in the seat, his eyes searching hers in the dark. There was nothing soft in him now; possessiveness sat in his gaze like a shadow, and the hair on Izzy’s arms stood up.
“Cal,” she said softly, reaching for the door handle. “Thank you for today. The wine, the dinner… it was all very generous.”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he reached out, his hand cupping the back of her head with a firm, unyielding grip. He pulled her toward him, and this time, there was no gentlemanly restraint. He kissed her again, and it was deep, invasive, meant to leave a mark—a final claim before he let her go.
Izzy didn’t resist. She kept her eyes closed, her body forced into a mimicry of surrender, playing the part of the smitten guest until she felt him finally relax his grip. It was a performance for an audience of one, a survival tactic born in the shadows of the Varga warehouse.
He finally pulled back, a smug, satisfied shadow of a smile on his lips. “Goodnight, Isabella. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
The locks clicked open with a sharp, mechanical snap. Izzy practically tumbled out of the car, her boots crunching on the gravel as she hurried toward the porch. She didn’t look back until she heard the roar of his engine as he peeled out of the drive, leaving a cloud of dust in the moonlight.
* * *
Hollis Ridge Estate — After Midnight
Wade sat alone in the dark-paneled den with a glass of bourbon resting beside him, the low amber light from the desk lamp throwing long shadows across the room.
The house had finally gone quiet.
Cal had stormed off hours ago in one of his moods.
Vance had returned to the guest house near the lower ridge.
But Wade couldn’t quite shake the image of Isabella Moreno from his mind.
The girl had looked alive out there on horseback.
Wind in her dark hair.
Cheeks flushed from the mountain air.
Legs tight against the saddle.
Healthy.
Vibrant.
Curious.
Too curious.
His jaw tightened slightly as he thought about the dinner table.
The lipstick.
The perfect smile.
The way her eyes kept moving around the room, even while pretending to relax.
Nervous.
Wade picked up his bourbon, taking a slow sip before finally standing.
The hidden panel beside the bookshelf clicked softly open.
Security monitors glowed to life.
Quietly, Wade scrubbed backward through the exterior camera feeds until he found the timestamp he wanted.
There.
A horse emerging through the trees near the restricted road.
Isabella.
He watched her dismount.
Watched her hesitate.
Then disappear toward the warehouse.
Wade’s expression never changed.
Another camera picked her up near the side entrance moments later.
Another showed her leaving.
Fast.
Too fast.
He sat there a long moment watching the footage replay in silence.
Then finally—
Wade reached for the phone.
“We have a problem,” Wade said quietly when the line connected. “The Denver girl got into the north building. She was inside long enough to start asking questions.”Silence crackled briefly across the line.
Then Varga answered:
“Move everything.”