Page 27 of Behind These Four Walls
There was a spark in Holland. She said, “You should eat first.”
Bennett nodded at his sister’s suggestion, urging Isla along with a hand. “So, new friend,whoare you?”
The way he saidwhowas a vibe Isla recognized instantly. He probably used this on all the women just before he got them in his bed. He looked the part, too, and if Isla had to admit it, his suaveness nearly got her as she eased into her seat between Holland and Myles.
She matched him, refusing to let him think he’d make her like another of his toys he’d play with and toss. Because Isla could recognize Bennett Corrigan. His boyish features, sharp and striking, which made him look innocent enough and like you’d want to bask in his sunshine all day long. The twinkle in his eyes presented him as jovial and flirty enough, but there was something hidden behind the grin as he waited for her next move.
“Isla Thorne,” she finally answered.
He watched her with appreciation.
“Isla, did you sleep well? Nice outfit,” Holland said, offering Isla a glass and pouring pinkish juice into it. “Guava juice,” she replied to Isla’s raised eyebrows.
Isla glanced down at the new clothes she’d found waiting for her in her room. White formfitting capris with a strapped, white, fitted crop top dotted with yellow flowers and tiny green leaves, along with an oversize off-the-shoulder sweater.
“Thanks, Holland. You have great taste. But you didn’t need to lend me your stuff. I could have changed when I got back.”
“That’s not from me,” Holland answered breezily, taking a bite of her buttered toast.
“Your mom, then.” Though Isla couldn’t believe someone who showed such disdain for her would be that considerate.
Bennett snorted into his cup of coffee. Even the young lady replenishing their table, though the food there was barely touched, fought to keep her face blank.
“Myles had all of it ordered and delivered early this morning. One of the staff put it in your room. I think it was all supposed to be discreet, but ...” Holland shrugged.
Myles. A totally unexpected move from the guy who remained in the same position she’d found him in, one leg crossed over the other, reading intently. He didn’t twitch an eyebrow when Holland outed him.
“My big brother is so thoughtful, isn’t he?” Bennett teased, his light-brown eyes dancing. “Always thinking of all the minor details no one else ever thinks of. He’s got you country-club chic.”
Isla frowned at the dig disguised as a compliment; she was unsure who it was meant for. Myles didn’t bother replying; instead, he flipped the page in his portfolio, but Isla could see the red flush beneath his nails from his fingers digging into the leather.
Two could play this game.
“He’s very thoughtful. A great host.” Isla beamed at Myles, who still wouldn’t acknowledge any of them. “Thank you for the clothes, Myles. You havespectaculartaste, and are very thoughtful. A girl could get used to that kind of consideration.”
She gushed more than necessary just to knock Bennett down a peg or two from whatever trip he was on.
The glacier finally dislodged, and Myles cast a quick look at her from the corner of his eye, appraising her quickly. She thought she caught a trickle of amusement until a succession of approaching footsteps with accompanying voices drifted from the hall; the loudest Isla recognized as being Brooke. Whatever warmth had been there snapped back shut inside his vault.
“No big deal,” Myles said flatly, his ice settling back in, frustrating the hell out of her.
Isla ignored the twinge of disappointment that followed his dismissive words, but she bottled that for later and forced herself to remain smiling as Brooke, Victor, and Dixon entered. Myles placed his reading material on the table, waiting for what would come next, as it always did.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Brooke’s voice filled the kitchen. “I don’t know why you’re so against this, Victor. You have been the perfect candidate for Man of the Year for years. Now you’re finally getting recognition for all your work. You should be enjoying this,” Brooke said, her tone insistent, with threads of frustration woven in. “All they want is to do an in-depth profile of you—an entire spread, Victor! They don’t dedicate so much space to someone often. It’ll be great—your life, your accomplishments, your family. Back me up on this, Jackson, Dixon,” she said as Jackson entered the house through the kitchen door.
Jackson poured himself coffee, glancing over his shoulder at the trio. “What are we talking about?”
“The Man of the Year profile they want to do on him,” Brooke said, looking over each of the people at the table. “But he won’t let the reporter in to write the article.” Her eyes landed on Isla, narrowing. “Still here,” Brooke said in a low voice that everyone heard. Two words that said many things.
“I think it’s a great idea,” Bennett interjected. “Let them have an inside peek at the man behind the enterprise.”
Jackson joined in. “He’s right. The board would love it. Great publicity.”
Dixon said nothing because his face said it all. He was with Victor on this.
Victor accepted a cup of coffee from a staff member. “Thank you,” he said, acknowledging her, and she melted back into obscurity while the conversation resumed.