Bartered (The Encounter #1)(25)

“Why are we paying for sins that were made a decade ago? Isn’t it enough that we’ve suffered and paid for the consequences?” It angered me to even think about it. I had attempted to end it, although the price that had come along with my ingenuousness had been high. It had taught me a lesson—that sometimes making a sacrifice was easier than putting other people’s lives in danger. I would never make that same mistake again.

“Every day, I’m grateful that your mother wasn’t alive to witness any of it.”

“So am I,” I made the same sentiment. “Well, I’m bidding you goodnight and try to play nice with Julee. Francois did just divorce her.”

“Julee… a delicate divorcee.” He made a sardonic laugh. “Goodnight, son.”

“Dormez bien, Père.” (Sleep well.) After hanging up on my father, my cell phone immediately buzzed to life again. This time it was Beno?t. “Oui.”

“Monsieur, I apologize to interrupt your night, but I lost sight of mademoiselle Elena and mademoiselle Isobel. The club is unexpectedly packed.”

It was summer, of course it was. Then again, given Beno?t’s age and my less inclined desire to go to clubs, this most likely came as a shock to him. The issue I’d been contemplating had just been provided with an answer.

“I’m on my way,” I said after he gave me the location.

Heading back towards Monaco, I recalled the moment when I was on my way upstairs from the living room after my short talk with Julee when I caught sight of Isobel in a scantily clad black dress; if one could even consider it as such. The scrap of cloth had hugged her slender form, leaving little imagination to any man who desired her. Even when we had gone out to the auction, she had been dressed accordingly, thus seeing her transformation had bothered me greatly. So much so that I had remained still, hidden from their view, and waited until they both had left to go party.

I could only account my shock to the fact she was young, and for some odd reason, this essential tidbit had escaped me each time I had seen her. Isobel was already beautiful, yet tonight, the word didn’t suffice.

Once I arrived and entered the club, Beno?t was there to greet me at the entrance, seeming out of place. “Go home. I’ll take it from here.” He tried to argue with my decision, but I was persistent for him to get some rest.

After he left, I immediately scanned the place as the music roared in my ears. For ten minutes, I scoured for them, however the place was too dark and the ever-changing, techni-colored laser lights made it harder to focus.

After another fifteen minutes, with still no sign of them, I was about to take my leave when something caught my eye. It was Elena. She was on the second floor, in the VIP section, dancing on top of the table… and Isobel was doing exactly the same thing.

I froze, watching her for a moment, when I felt all common sense leave my body before something else took precedence.





Chapter 15


Isobel


“Uh-oh. I think someone’s in big trouble,” Elena whispered into my ear, teasing.

The music was so loud I couldn’t grasp what she was saying, but when she pointed behind me and I turned around to check what she was mumbling about, I was surprised to find Hugo looking like he was Death’s messenger.

Frowning, I stared at him, hoping he hadn’t come here to break up our party. Because if he had, well, I wouldn’t like that very much.

Touching Elena’s shoulder to get her attention, I mouthed and pointed my thumb towards her cousin’s direction, expecting she’d get the hint that I was going over to say hi. She shooed me away, grinning teasingly before she focused her attention to her other friends—all of whom consisted of men, by the way; a tidbit she had forgotten to mention.

Weaving my way towards Hugo, past the white curtains and a few private parties, I exhaled an exasperated sigh when the man didn’t even move a muscle to meet me halfway. He simply waited, brooding sexily while those hypnotizing eyes of his didn’t miss a beat in following me. Then, once I reached him, he kept on his mask of cool indifference without saying a word.

Hell, is everything okay?

“Is there an emergency?” I asked, almost yelling at him.

When he kept ignoring me, my patience immediately deteriorated. “All right. Well it was odd seeing you here… but I have to get back to my party. Hope you have a blast playing mannequin.” I was being sarcastic, however I couldn’t help it. He was being insufferable.

“Outside,” he bit out. “We need to talk.”

“Good to know your tongue is still intact.” I folded my arms underneath my breasts, readying to fight back. As far as I was concerned, I hadn’t done anything wrong. Thus, for him to come here acting like a complete arse was completely unjustified.

Strutting away, he didn’t look back to see if I was trailing behind him. He merely kept on striding ahead. The more he acted like a pompous dick, the more colorful my anger became—from warm to dark, to all shades of red.

Passing the entrance, I wasn’t really surprised the people who worked here knew him, and they all chimed respectively as he passed them by, bidding him well for the night. He probably was a patron, notorious for his lavish lifestyle and bountiful supply of temporary girlfriends.

The fresh air hitting my warm skin did nothing to soothe my mood. Apparently, he had parked his car a few doors down, and when his Bugatti Veyron came into view, he immediately unlocked it, showing no mercy.