Julian
Isidoro studies the business card, concentration and confusion ruling over his face. The only thing on that piece of paper is the words Red Leaf. There is no phone number, no address, nothing to identify what the name might be referring to.
“I didn’t really get to look into this properly before you kidnapped me,” I say helpfully.
Isidoro’s wine red eyes snap to me. “Nothing came up in an online search?”
Relief washes over me. He’s back to his normal self. I almost couldn’t resist him when he pinned me against that wall. Phew. “Oh, it did. About a thousand results. I didn’t have time to narrow them down, though.”
He nods stiffly and doesn’t say anything, glaring at the business card as if it has wronged him. It gives me chills, but also, it’s kind of hot.
Needing a distraction as the knot in my stomach grows, I march over to my wardrobe and pick a couple of things. Just like the rest of the penthouse, it’s a mess, but at least my stuff is still there. A duffel bag full of some of my favorite clothes later, I turn around.
Isidoro has moved over to the tall windows, gazing out as he’s pulled the curtain to one side.
There is this distant look on his face, like his body is the only thing here with me, like he’s gone somewhere on his own where I can’t follow.
My heart stutters at the thought, and before I can stop myself, I cross over to him.
“Hey. We got what we came for. Let’s go back and figure out this Red Leaf,” I say, placing my hand on his shoulder and pretending not to notice the pang of sadness that slithers down from my chest.
There is no response. I shake him a little.
He reacts in an instant, whirling around and twisting my wrist. I hiss as sharp pain radiates through me, baring my teeth. “Easy, Isidoro. It’s me.”
His eyes regain their focus, and a moment later, he lets go. Part of me that I pretend not to notice misses his touch immediately. “You better not be hiding anything else from me,” he says, waving the business card.
I consider that as I try to snatch it from him, but he slips it inside his pocket. “You’re just gonna have to wait and find out, won’t you?”
The left corner of his mouth trembles. “In that case, I suppose handing over Sanguine now you have to do the same. Give me back my company.”
He chuckles, the low, vibrating timbre of his voice raising the hairs on my body as a scorching wave of heat washes over me.
Stop this and get a grip, Julian.
“What?” I snarl at him, planting my hands on my hips and ordering my traitorous heart to calm down.
His fingers curl around my arm as he brushes past me, a smile materializing. “You have a meeting at S&S’ new office next week. Monday, ten in the morning. Don’t be late.”
My heart tries to jump out of my chest. Fuck! I can’t believe he actually followed through on his word! Ooh yes, my baby!
Hold on. Did he say next Monday?! What the hell? That’s a whole week from now!
“Wait, that’s in a whole damn week! And what new office?” I sprint after him, catching up at the elevator. “The old one was perfectly fine.”
His conceited smile zaps my insides. “You’ll see.” He lifts the business card. “Let’s focus on this for now.”
I have a bad feeling about this. He didn’t even tease me that much about S&S, which means he must be up to something. The question is what?
“I’ve never heard of this Red Leaf,” Ria says as Isidoro hands her the business card the next day. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t track it down.”
He shrugs elegantly. “The team I put together is trying as we speak. There are at least twenty bars with that name, just as many businesses and community-related ventures.”
“Yes, but maybe I’ll recognize something. One of them must be connected to my father.”
That’s a good point. I looked through the results with both my and Ria’s dads in mind, but it’s not like I really know William. He and Andras managed to keep that merger a secret from the rest of the world, the engagement too, so who knows what else they might have been hiding…
Isidoro snaps his fingers and gets his assistants to bring over some refreshments as we settle in his office.
Like the lounge, it’s a big space with tall windows, marble walls and hardwood floors.
Antique bookshelves grace one side, half filled with rare editions and the other with various important-looking trophies.
An old hourglass gets my attention, its slim form supported by smooth spindles made from cherry wood.
I pick it up and turn it upside down, causing the black sand to fall through the small opening.
It’s mesmerizing to watch it. Now and then something twinkles, a piece of stone or mineral, a white speck that’s like a star in a night sky.
“Be careful with this, Julian,” Isidoro’s smooth tenor whispers into my ear.
His hot breath caresses my cheek and I quiver, unable to stop my reaction in time. Shit, when did he get so close? My nostrils flare. And why does he smell so damn nice? Wasn’t he helping Ria look up the Red Leaf?
My whole body catches fire when his hand comes to rest on my waist. I inhale sharply, my fingers trembling while still holding the delicate object.
“It’s a precious gift from an old friend,” he adds with uncharacteristic softness in his voice that has my heart skipping a beat.
I can feel his heat, the vibration of his neck when he speaks. I swallow hard, my mind racing. Why does he sound so strangely sad? Nostalgic. What’s the story behind this object? I don’t dare turn around and look him in the eye, afraid of what I might find.
“How precious?” I ask, my voice low and raspy.
He hums, tucking a loose strand of my hair behind my ear. It’s such a casual and gentle touch, yet it sends my pulse into space. His lips are so close, too close, and I can almost feel them ghosting over, teasing. “If you break or damage it in any way, you will be punished thoroughly.”
A zap of pleasure skitters down my spine as the kiss we shared replays in my mind.
I swallow hard, my cock jolting. Jesus. How can he say that kind of thing in that voice while being that close to me?
He must be doing it on purpose, to rile me up.
But why? And more importantly, why am I responding to him in this way?
Why does my body betray me every time he gets in my personal space?
Why can’t I stop thinking about his lips sealed against mine?
Something is seriously wrong with me, there’s no other explanation.
Placing the hourglass back on its spot on the bookshelf, I close my eyes for a heartbeat to recenter myself, then wrench away from my hot-as-fuck arch-nemesis. An icy sensation replaces the warmth where his hand was, but I ignore the sudden discomfort.
“Well? Made any progress?” I ask, tipping my chin toward Ria, who’s frowning at the monitor.
Isidoro’s eyes slide down my body, growing darker. I feel exposed, like he can see right through my efforts to appear unaffected by his proximity. “There is a place in El Paso.”
“El Paso?” I cross my arms. “What would my father be doing that far south?”
“Not yours, but mine,” Ria pitches in, leaning back into Isidoro’s luxurious leather chair.
She stretches her arms and neck, then pins me with her pink eyes.
“I’d completely forgotten until I saw the photos.
” She waves us over and once we are looking at the stuff she’s pulled up, she continues, “We went there once. It’s a very fuzzy memory, but you see this old well? ”
I lean in and study the old, dilapidated thing. It looks like it’s about to collapse. “Yes.”
“My phone fell through a gap in the rocks. I was trying to climb down and get to it the entire afternoon.”
“That sounds dangerous.” I scrunch my nose. At least for a human.
“It was. I got scolded and grounded for it.” Her gaze turns distant as she taps her nails on the oak desk.
“So you think your father and Andras might have gone to El Paso? Because of a silly memory?” Isidoro summarizes. There’s a bite to his tone, but it’s hard to say whether it’s there because he’s dismissive of Ria’s idea or because of something else.
She shakes her head. “That alone? No, even if it gives us a place to start. But you see, on the day Andras was killed, he went somewhere with my father.”
“And you only decided to share this with us now?” Isidoro’s voice rings like thunder across the room even though he didn’t raise his tone, each word a strike across my skin I can’t defend against.
“I only now pieced it together.” She bites back.
“There was a strange smell to his clothes when we met up. I couldn’t figure out why it was so familiar, but now I know.
” She points at the well photo on the screen.
“The air smelled the same on the day he took me there, like spices and chili. It stung my nose.”
I don’t really see the connection. And the place on the screen isn’t somewhere I recognize either. “So, your dad went to this well in El Paso? What does that have to do with mine?”
“Not the well.” She stands, shaking her body off as if fighting numbness.
“There is an old spice processing place nearby, a few miles north of the quarry. That’s where he’d have gone.
” She taps a few keys on the keyboard, pulling up a map.
“It’s called Red Leaf. I’m pretty sure Andras went there the day of his murder. ”
I gape at the pin on the map. That can’t be true. There was nothing about a trip south on his schedule. He was in the office that morning, then went to lunch with that hospital dude, whom we cleared of any suspicions. Then he went home.