Page 13 of My Horrible Arranged Marriage (Bancroft Billionaire Brothers #20)

MINA

I saac’s penthouse was huge. It wasn’t just big—it was obscene. Floor-to-ceiling windows, polished dark wood floors, and a view of the New York skyline that made me suck in a breath. There was a spiral staircase at the opposite end. I knew luxury and it didn’t get better than this.

I hadn’t even made it two steps inside before I was shedding my heels and rubbing my aching feet on the plush rug.

I had been in many penthouses in my life but Isaac’s had a lived-in look. It wasn’t messy but it looked like someone actually lived here. There were a few personal pictures, photos of him and his brothers scattered about. A dark hoodie was tossed over a chair.

I wandered further in, my bare feet sinking into the rug. I paused by a sleek, modern kitchen that looked like it had never been used. A single coffee mug sat on the counter, still half-full and abandoned.

“Make yourself at home,” Isaac called from somewhere behind me, his voice carrying that easy, teasing tone I’d come to expect from him. “You look like you’re casing the place.”

“Just admiring your taste,” I shot back, crossing my arms. “Though I’m surprised you didn’t go for something more… I don’t know, neon and obnoxious.”

He laughed. “Oh, I’ve got neon in the lounge. You’ll see.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at my lips. “Beer signs, I suppose.”

“Want something to drink?” Isaac asked, tossing his keys into a crystal dish by the door. “You look like you could use another.”

I was still giggling from the wedding—giggling like a damn schoolgirl. “What do you have?” I asked.

“Baby, I’ve got it all,” he said easily.

And that was the famous charm I’d heard so much about.

I raised an eyebrow and leaned against the kitchen island. “Surprise me,” I said.

Isaac smirked, that infuriatingly confident grin that made my stomach do a little flip.

He walked across the room to a bar. He pushed a button and blue LEDs that outlined the bar lit up.

I walked over to a side table that had several framed pictures.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out one of the photos was of a very young Isaac with what I assumed was his mother.

The resemblance between him and his brothers was strong.

A minute later, he handed me a martini complete with an olive. “Fancy,” I said.

He grinned. “I make a mean martini. I like a hint of spice with mine. Jalapeno juice.”

I raised an eyebrow before sniffing the drink. “Jalapeno?”

“Try it,” he said. “Trust me, it’s good.”

I took a cautious sip. The liquid hit my tongue with a sharp, unexpected kick. The jalapeno was subtle but there, a smoky heat that lingered just long enough to make me nod in approval. “Okay,” I admitted, swirling the glass. “You’re not wrong. It’s good.”

Isaac watched me with that same amused expression, like he was waiting for me to admit he was right about something else. “Told you,” he said. “I’ve got skills.”

“Modest too,” I quipped, rolling my eyes again. But I couldn’t deny it—there was something about him that made it hard to stay annoyed. He had this way of disarming people, of making even the most mundane moments feel like they were part of some grand adventure.

I wandered back toward the windows. The city lights stretched out below us like a sea of stars.

The hum of New York at night was faint but constant, a reminder that even in this quiet penthouse, we were still in one of the busiest cities in the world.

Isaac followed, his footsteps soft on the polished floor.

“You ever get tired of this view?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder at him.

He shrugged. “This view? No, but want to see an even better view?”

I cocked one eyebrow. “Is there a better view?”

“Yep. I’ll show you. Did you happen to bring a bathing suit?”

He led me up a set of stairs and pushed open a door to what I assumed was a rooftop deck. That was when I saw it. “You have a pool? On the roof?”

“And a hot tub,” he said. “And a speaker system, if you’re not tired of dancing.”

I took in the infinity pool. It wasn’t all that big, but big enough. It looked way too inviting to ignore on this muggy New York night. I took a sip of my martini and put the glass down on a nearby table.

Without waiting, I stripped down to my bra and underwear and climbed into the pool. The water was warm and silky. I dunked my head under and came up with my hair slicked back, blinking water from my lashes.

Isaac stood at the edge, fully clothed, watching me with that slow, lazy smile that did things to my stomach.

“Well?” I asked. “You coming in or just gonna stand there like a perv?”

He grinned and began unbuttoning his shirt. “You know, for someone who pretends to hate socialites, you’re very comfortable at a penthouse pool.”

I splashed him. “And you talk too much.”

He grinned and took his time giving me a whole strip show. He slid his thumbs under the waistband of his boxer briefs. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. But I couldn’t look away.

He snapped the band and laughed. “Relax. I’ll keep things contained. I’d hate to scare you away.”

I rolled my eyes and splashed him again.

When he dropped into the water beside me, it was like someone turned the temperature up.

He swam closer, close enough that I could see the droplets beading on his skin, the heat in his eyes.

I knew he was attractive, but like this—wet and flushed and bare chested—he was dangerous.

And I was drunk enough not to care.

“So,” I said, treading water lazily. “What’s your deal, Bancroft?”

“My deal?”

“Dating history. Tell me about your long trail of broken hearts. Are you the kind that makes empty promises to get a woman in bed or do you date the same person for a couple of weeks before you move on?”

He made a face. “You really want to go there?”

I nodded. “You’ve got a reputation. I want to know just how exaggerated it is.”

“What makes you think it’s exaggerated?”

“Because I know men,” I said dryly.

He gave a dramatic sigh. “Fine. It’s long. It’s extensive. It’ll probably make you feel wildly insecure, and I’m not proud of that.”

“Wow,” I deadpanned. “Way to make a girl feel special.”

“You wanted to talk about this, not me.” He laughed and moved closer until our legs brushed. “I’m just saying, I’ve never been the guy who sticks around. I date, I have fun, I move on. It’s kind of my thing.”

I splashed him again. “That’s not a thing, Isaac. That’s a warning label.”

He grinned. “Which is why I’m being honest. Transparency is sexy, right?”

“Not as sexy as vulnerability.”

That made him pause. For a second, the easy humor in his eyes faltered, replaced by something deeper—something that made my chest tighten. He reached out and tucked a wet strand of hair behind my ear.

“Your turn,” he said.

“My turn?”

“I don’t remember hearing stories about you,” he said. “I didn’t know about your engagement. Did Sampson catch the white whale?”

I stared at him, letting him see my disgust. “Did you just call me a whale?”

He laughed. “Only metaphorically.”

“I think your charms might be just a little embellished. You’ve told me I can’t measure up to your long line of women and then you call me a whale. Be still, my heart.”

He snaked an arm around my waist and pulled me close. He let me feel his hardness. All of it. Top to bottom and everything in between.

He released me a second later. I moved away a few inches. He was way too tempting to be that close to.

“No, I’m not a serial dater. I wasn’t before I met Sampson either. And after? I wasn’t going to date again. Not for a long time.”

“Because of Sampson?”

I nodded. “He really screwed me up. Not just because he cheated. It was everything. The lies. The gaslighting. The way I kept wondering if I was overreacting. My dad told me to end it quietly, to protect Sampson’s reputation. Said I’d thank him later.”

Isaac frowned. “Do you?”

“No,” I whispered. “Not even a little.”

He looked like he wanted to punch something. “You know you didn’t deserve that, right?”

I shrugged. “I know it. Doesn’t mean I always feel it.”

He moved in front of me. My body moved through the water until I was at the edge of the pool closest to the building. He caged me between his arms, his hands braced on either side of the pool edge. “You deserve better. Way better.”

My pulse jumped. “Are you offering?”

“I’m considering it.”

The tension between us nearly set the pool water boiling. There was no denying the chemistry between us. It was impossible to ignore. I could feel every inch of him—his heat, his nearness, the way his eyes dropped to my mouth like he was debating whether or not to kiss me.

“Would that be your third-date pitch?” I asked, voice breathy.

He smirked. “Actually, I was going to ask you to go on another date with me. And if it goes well…”

“Yes?” I prompted.

He leaned in, his mouth brushing my ear. “Then we might just have to make it exclusive.”

I laughed, a little dazed. “Wow. You move fast.”

“I’m a Bancroft,” he said. “When I see something I want, I go and get it before someone else can claim it.”

And just like that, I felt it again—that fluttery, ridiculous giddiness that made me want to grin and melt into him all at once.

It had been so long since I felt wanted.

Really wanted.

Sampson had always made me question myself.

My appearance. My value. My sanity. Isaac made me feel reckless and free.

Like maybe I wasn’t broken. Like maybe I could still be desirable.

Deserving. Getting cheated on made a girl question herself.

I compared every inch of my body to Cara’s.

Her big, fake tits. her tiny waist. Her hair.

Everything. It was torture. Self-inflicted torture.

“Are you still playing coy tonight?” I asked softly. “Or are you going to take me to bed?”

His eyes darkened. He closed the last inch between us, his body pinning mine gently to the edge of the pool. His voice was gravelly, low.

“Waiting’s the best part.”

I ran my hands up his chest slowly. “You said patience wasn’t your strong suit.”

“It’s not.” He kissed my throat, then my collarbone. “But I can wait… if the reward is extra sweet.”

“And you think I’m sweet?” I asked.

“I think you’re worth waiting for.”

It undid me. Right there in the water, that one line.

He kissed me again, deeper this time. His mouth was hot, his hands firm at my hips as his tongue pushed into my mouth.

My body arched into his like we were already halfway to ruining everything between us.

My fingers tangled in his wet hair, pulling him closer as the water lapped around us.

His mouth was insistent against mine, demanding in a way that made heat pool low in my belly.

I hooked one leg around his waist, the buoyancy of the water making me feel weightless as he pressed me harder against the pool’s edge.

“God,” he groaned against my mouth, one hand sliding up my back to cradle my neck. The other dipped beneath the water, fingers splaying across my thigh. “You’re driving me crazy.”

I nipped at his lower lip, delighting in the way his breathing hitched. “Good.”

The heat of his body against mine was intoxicating.

My nails scraped down his back as he pinned me to the wall with his hips.

He pulled his mouth from mine and attacked my neck like a vampire looking for my jugular.

Water droplets clung to his eyelashes, his shoulders, running in rivulets down the planes of his chest. I followed one with my fingertip, tracing it down to where it disappeared beneath the water’s surface.

This man was Greek-God gorgeous. His body?

“How old are you?” I blurted out the question.

He stopped nuzzling my neck and pulled back. “Why?”

“Because, well, you look… young.”

“I’m not that young,” he murmured. “Thirty-one. That a problem?”

“No.”

“You?”

“Twenty-eight,” I answered.

Isaac’s eyes never left mine, dark and hungry.

He kissed along my jaw, down the column of my throat, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot where my neck met my shoulder.

I gasped, my head falling back against the pool edge.

All his philandering had turned him into a skilled lover.

I understood why women clamored to get into his bed.

Eventually, we pulled apart, breathless and flushed. I rested my head on his shoulder, trying to catch my breath. We floated in silence for a moment.

And then he was pulling away and climbing out of the pool. I looked up at him, the cotton briefs clinging to the outline of his cock.

“I’ll have my driver take you home,” he said quietly.

I stared at him. Either I was truly a pariah or this man had the self-control of a monk.

I tilted my head. “You’re really not going to sleep with me tonight?”

“Nope. I want to wait.”

“You said you weren’t the patient kind,” I reminded him.

I wasn’t even embarrassed I was practically begging him to have sex with me.

“With you, I will be,” he said.

“You’re dangerous, you know that?”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “So are you.”

I climbed out of the pool, dripping and warm. He walked inside and grabbed me a pair of sweats and a hoodie to wear home. He pulled on a pair of sweats and walked me to the lobby.

He gave me a chaste kiss. “I’ll call you tomorrow. We’ll start that party planning.”