Isabelle #2
"Okay," I hear myself say. "Let's go."
Tomá?'s hotel room looks fairly cheap and impersonal, just standard furniture and a queen bed with white linens that look like they've been bleached a thousand times.
It could be any hotel room in any city in the world.
There's nothing distinctive about it, nothing memorable.
But it's clean, and it's perfect for what this is. Meaningless sex.
Tomá? closes the door behind us and immediately pulls me against him, his mouth finding mine without any pretense of the drink he offered or the talking he mentioned before.
He kisses aggressively, his tongue pushing confidently past my lips, and his hands already working at the hem of my shirt.
I kiss him back, trying to lose myself in the sensation.
His hands slide under my shirt, warm against my skin, and he walks me backward toward the bed.
I let him guide me, let him push the shirt up and over my head, then let him unhook my bra.
"You're so fucking beautiful," he murmurs against my neck, his hands cupping my breasts.
"I've been thinking about this since I saw you at the bar. "
I close my eyes and try to focus on his touch, on the way his thumbs brush over my nipples, on the heat of his mouth against my skin.
He's not pawing at me; he's good at this.
His mouth feels firm and hot against my skin, his hands curving against me as he seeks out the places that will make me moan, taking his time.
But all I can think about is Julian. The way he touched me in Ibiza.
The way he made me feel like I was the only thing that mattered in the entire world.
Stop thinking about him.
Tomá? pushes me down onto the bed and follows me, his body covering mine as his hands work at the button of my jeans.
"Fuck, I can't wait to taste you," he mutters, and I help him, lifting my hips so he can slide them down my legs.
He rises up on his knees as I'm lying there in just my underwear while he strips off his own shirt.
He's attractive. Fit. Exactly the kind of man I would have taken home without a second thought a month ago.
His abs are cobblestone hard, with tattoos inked around his sides and up his chest and arms, the rest of his muscles equally defined.
I can see the thick bulge against his fly—he's hung, too, and incredibly hard for me.
But I feel nothing. Just emptiness where desire should be, the hollow ache of trying to replace something irreplaceable.
"You okay?" Tomá? asks, pausing with his hands on his belt. "You seem distracted."
"I'm fine," I lie. "Just—keep going."
He doesn't need to be told twice. His belt hits the floor, followed by his jeans, and then his mouth finds mine again.
His cock is on the verge of escaping his black boxer briefs, a clear, thick line against the fabric.
His hands slide down my sides, hooking into the waistband of my underwear, and I close my eyes and try to surrender to this.
I want it to be good. I want him to make me come, to make me stop thinking that it will never be good again because of what Julian has made me feel.
Tomá?'s mouth glides over my breast as he tosses my panties to the floor, and the door explodes inward.
I scream, jerking upright, my heart slamming against my ribs. Tomá? rolls off me with a startled curse, reaching for something, but he doesn't get the chance.
Julian is across the room in three strides, his gaze black with fury. He grabs Tomá? by the throat and slams him against the wall hard enough that I hear the impact. I hear the breath leave Tomá?'s lungs in a pained gasp.
"Julian, stop!" I scramble off the bed. "What the fuck are you—"
Julian doesn't even look at me. His focus is entirely on Tomá?, whose face is turning red as Julian's grip tightens around his throat. There's something in Julian's eyes I've never seen before, not even when he attacked the man in Greece.
"Please," Tomá? chokes out, his hands clawing at Julian's wrist. "I don't—I didn't—"
Julian's other hand moves so fast I almost miss it. There's a flash of metal that it takes me a moment to recognize as a knife, and then he drives it up under Tomá?'s ribs until only the hilt is visible against his skin.
Tomá?'s eyes go wide. His mouth opens in a silent scream.
Blood blooms across his bare chest, dripping down his skin and onto the carpet, and Julian holds him there for a long moment before pulling the knife free and letting him drop.
Tomá? crumples to the floor, his hands pressed to the wound, blood seeping between his fingers.
He makes a wet, gurgling sound, his eyes finding mine, and I see the moment the life leaves them.
I can't breathe. I stand there frozen as Julian wipes the blade on Tomá?'s discarded jeans and then turns to me. The fury in his eyes makes me take an involuntary step back. "Get dressed," he says, his voice low and deadly. "Now."
I stare at him, my hands shaking so badly I can't imagine even picking anything up. "You—you just—"
"Get. Dressed." Each word is hard, bitten off. "We're leaving. Right now."
I pull the shirt over my head with trembling hands, my eyes locked on Tomá?'s body. There's so much blood. It's pooling beneath him, spreading across the cheap carpet. "He was just—we were just—" My voice breaks. "Why did you—"
"Because he was going to kill you." Julian grabs my shorts from the floor and throws them at me. "Put these on. We don't have time for this."
"What?" The word comes out as a whisper. "No. He was just—he was a guy from the bar. He wasn't—"
"He was an assassin, Isabelle." Julian's voice is hard and cold, every word cutting. "Sent to kill you. And you walked right into his trap because you were too busy being reckless and stupid to think about the consequences."
I feel like he's slapped me. I sink down onto the edge of the bed, my legs suddenly unable to hold me. "No. That's not—he couldn't have been—"
"Check his jacket." Julian points to a jacket hanging next to the door. "You'll find a gun, I imagine, and a photo of you."
I don't want to look. But I stand up on shaky legs and cross the room, reaching into the black leather jacket hanging on a hook by the door. I feel the heavy weight of a gun, and then…
I feel a slick square. I pull out a photograph of me, walking down a street in Santorini, the sun bright on my face, completely unaware I was being watched.
The room tilts. I drop the photo like it burned me, my breath coming in short, panicked gasps. "Oh my god." The words are barely audible. "Oh my god, he was going to—"
"Kill you." Julian's voice is flat. "Yes. That's what assassins do, Isabelle. They kill people. And you made it incredibly easy for him by sneaking out of a safe house in the middle of the night to go get drunk and fuck a stranger."
The accusation in his voice snaps something inside me. The shock and horror transform into rage so sudden and absolute that it takes my breath away. "Don't you dare." I turn sharply, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. "Don't you fucking dare blame me for this."
"I'm not blaming you for him being an assassin.
" Julian's eyes are cold, his jaw tight.
"I'm blaming you for being so goddamn reckless that you walked right into his hands.
What the fuck were you thinking, Isabelle?
Leaving the safe house? Going to a bar alone?
Bringing a stranger back to his hotel room? "
"I was thinking that I'm sick of being treated like…
like…" My voice rises, all the hurt and anger and frustration of the past weeks pouring out.
"I'm sick of you pushing me away and then acting like you have some claim on me!
I'm sick of being told what to do and where to go and who I can talk to!
You haven't even found out who's doing this!
You've had us running all over fucking Europe while you supposedly try to find the source of this, and you haven't found a fucking thing! "
"I've been fucking trying! The hit was contracted through a goddamn crime family, Isabelle. It's not as easy as just calling and asking! I've been doing everything I could, while trying to keep your spoiled ass alive!"
"I'm so sorry it's so fucking difficult!"
"Clearly, you're not. You could have died tonight." His voice is deadly quiet now. "Do you understand that? You were thirty seconds away from being fucking murdered."
"And whose fault is that? You're the one who keeps pushing me away! You're the one who told me I was nothing to you, that what we had was just a moment of weakness! You're the one who made me feel like I was going insane for wanting you!"
"So you decided to go fuck someone else?" Julian snorts. "That was your solution? To prove what, exactly? That you don't need me?"