Page 12

ISABELLE

“ M orning,” Pierre sings happily as I walk into the kitchen.

I grunt my response as I start making myself a cup of coffee.

How the hell does he have so much energy this morning?

I had a terrible night’s sleep last night, stupid images of Pierre playing in The Paradise Club kept me up all night.

Don’t lie, it was the throbbing between your thighs that did that.

I had to call on my battery-operated friend to finish me off.

Even though I went to The Paradise Club last night, nothing happened.

I was too angry to let go. Then when I got home, he was on me like the damn Spanish inquisition.

Does that man ever put on a shirt? I snapped last night in sexual frustration.

He pushed and pushed until I Iet him have it.

What I thought I was doing was hurting him, but instead it looked like I was turning him on, judging by the large bulge in his pants.

Him being turned on shouldn’t have turned me on, but I may have gotten off to the image of him in shorts with his dick sticking out the top last night. This week can’t end soon enough.

“I thought after all your orgasms last night, you would be in a better mood,” he teases.

I flip him off, which makes him laugh. “You have a funny way of thanking me for helping you today. I have better things to do with my time than fly to South Dakota,” I snap.

“You’re right, I am thankful for everything you are doing for me,” he says.

I give him a glaring side-eye. He stops in front of me.

“I’m serious, Issy, thank you. Me being in your space is a lot to ask.

Me being in your business is uncalled for.

If you wanted to get railed by two guys last night at a sex club, that has nothing to do with me. ” Damn right it doesn’t.

“You’re not supposed to know about that place. Felix could get into a lot of trouble. You need to stop joking about it. I mean it, Pierre, keep your mouth shut about it.”

“Okay. I’ll stop,” he says. I don’t believe him. Because seconds later he is still questioning me about it. “Do you like going there?” he asks after a couple of long moments of silence.

“I thought we weren’t talking about it,” I tell him as I finish off the rest of my coffee.

“I’m curious, that’s all …”

“I’m not talking about this with you,” I say, placing my coffee cup in the sink. “We are going to be late, come on.” I walk out of the kitchen and grab my handbag, he follows.

“How long have you been a member?” he asks.

“Not answering.” I walk down my front stairs.

“Have you always been kinky?”

I suck in a deep breath and try to ignore his large, looming presence which is hard when he blocks out the fricken sun. Ignoring his questions, I jump into the car and greet Kevin warmly, with Pierre following.

“If you ask one more question, I swear I will call TMZ and out you myself,” I warn him.

He shakes his head. “You always blushed when people spoke about sex, and now here you are going to a sex …” I quickly shove my hand over his mouth.

“Shut the hell up would you? Felix could be fined millions of dollars if they find out he told you. I could get into trouble too, and I will not let you take away my happy place. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” he mumbles behind my hand. I pull it away and slide my hand along my jeans. Ew. “I have emails I need to work through, so if you don’t mind,” I tell him. Pierre holds up his hands as if to say he’s not stopping me from doing what I need to do. He’s so annoying.

It’s not until we are up in the air that Pierre starts talking again, well actually, it’s not until he’s had two glasses of whiskey that loosen him up that he starts talking again.

“Thanks for this. I appreciate it more than you realize,” he says, rubbing his neck. His nervous tell.

“You don’t need to keep thanking me,” I snap at him.

We sit in silence for a couple more minutes until he speaks again. “Issy, can we talk?”

“No. I’m busy.” Ignoring his presence.

He pauses for a bit but continues, “Please, Is. I have enough on my plate without arguing with you every two seconds. I’m exhausted.”

“I’ll make it easy for you. Let’s not speak to each other for the week, that way we can’t argue.” I go back to my phone.

“You’re too hard to ignore,” he says quietly.

I let out a huff. “Fine. Say what you need to say so I can get back to work.” I don’t mean to be a bitch but I am. I’m exhausted. Frustrated. Irritated. Confused. Wary. All the things.

“I want to talk about our past,” he states.

My stomach turns and flips flops. “No,” I say, shutting that down quickly.

He raises a brow at me. “There’s still a lot of animosity between us and I guess …

” he continues rubbing his neck, those stupid thick biceps tensing as he does.

“I guess I’m trying to sort out my shit.

My life has blown up and I feel like it’s out of control, and well …

I’d like us to be friends again, Is. I miss you.

Miss your friendship, and I could really use a friend right now,” he confesses.

He can’t just say nice things and think that absolves him of everything he did to me.

“Why?”

My question stuns him for a moment. “Because of Harper and Felix,” he says safely. “And because it’s been fifteen years, I want bygones to be bygones.”

“Of course you would. You want a clean conscious.”

“No. It’s not that at all. I’m fighting for everything right now, and I don’t know how long I’m going to have to fight. I don’t need another person to fight me in my life, Issy,” he explains, looking broken.

Well, don’t I feel like the wicked witch? Just because his life has blown up, it doesn’t mean I have to like him or forgive him for anything.

“I’ll make sure to stay out of your way so that I don’t add any more stress to your life,” I tell him before looking back down at my phone.

“Are you serious?” he asks, sitting forward in his seat.

“Yes, it’s one week. The house is big enough that we shouldn’t run into each other,” I answer before looking back at my phone.

Next thing I know, he snatches my phone out of my hand and holds it above his head.

“You fucking asshole, give that back to me,” I yell.

“No,” he says stubbornly.

No? Is he serious right now? I jump up out of my seat and charge toward him, trying to get to my phone, which is stupid because the man’s entire job is to run into other men.

I’m not about to topple this man mountain over, except I do, catching him off-guard because he’s had one too many whiskies, as he loses his footing, and I land on top of him in the aisle of the plane.

“Ouch,” he groans, holding the phone above his head while I am splayed out over him, hating how much my body likes being pressed against his. I can feel every ripple of muscle, every hard plane of his body against mine.

No. Stop it. Nothing about this man should make me tingle.

“Stop it,” he shouts.

“Give me my phone back or I’m kneeing you in the balls,” I yell as I try to grab the phone from him.

“Not until you talk to me. I’m not going to let this fester for another fifteen years,” he says.

“I don’t care what you want.” I try to snatch the phone.

The flight attendant walks out and sees us rolling around on the floor and turns right back around. Traitor. No tip for her.

“We are going to be in each other’s lives, or are you going to ignore me every single time we are at a function with Felix and Harper?

Because those two are getting married. Are you going to ignore me at work?

When I come in and see Marcus? What happens if I get a contract with The Mavericks?

Are you going to ignore me when I’m in the city? ”

“New York is a big place.” I grunt as I try to grab my phone.

“Keep rubbing yourself on me like that and you’re not going to like what pops up.” He grins.

“Ew. You pig.” I roll off him and get up.

“I don’t want your dick anywhere near me.

” Pierre smirks, and I go back to my seat, irritation dripping off me.

It’s just one week. Seven days. Eighty hours.

I mean, if I have to go to work on the weekend to avoid being near him, I will.

He spins my phone on his finger, taunting me.

I call over the flight attendant who finally shows her face again, and ask for something strong like tequila to put up with this idiot for the next couple of hours.

“Issy, come on, let’s talk. Let me have it. I’m sure there are things you have wanted to say to me for the past fifteen years and never got the chance to.” He smirks.

“If I had wanted to say anything, I would have but I don’t,” I say, folding my arms as I impatiently wait for my drink.

“You’re so fucking stubborn.” He curses. I ignore him and look out the window. “This is ridiculous. You obviously still have feelings for me, otherwise, why would you still hold a grudge?”

“Screw you. No, I don’t,” I bite.

“Weird. If you have no feelings toward me, then you would be indifferent, not this ball of hate. Why won’t you let us put it all out on the table and clear the air, not just for us but for Harper and Felix.” I side-eye him. “Give it to me. Please.”

There are some things I should say to him, he deserves to hear them.

“Fine,” I hiss, just as my drink arrives. I’m going to need it to get through this talk. There is nothing he can say that will make me forgive him.

Pierre stares at me in surprise that I agreed. “Right, um, yeah, where should we start?” he asks.

“Guess at the point where you started cheating on me,” I say, levelling him a glare.

He nods. “That would be a good place to start.” Pierre looks uncomfortable. “I think I’m going to need another drink for this.” He calls the flight attendant over and orders himself a whiskey.

“You wanted this,” I tell him.

“I did,” he says.

Moments later his drink arrives, he takes a slow sip, neither one of us knows where to start.