Chapter 94
Chapter 94:
Belle’s smile faltered, the edges twitching. “Excuse me?”
“And besides,” Arland continued, taking a sip of his soda, “I have no interest in acquiring SkyLine’s failed assets. That applies to personnel as much as it does to projects.”
The implication hung in the air, heavy and absolute. He wasn’t talking about the glass.
Belle’s face flushed a deep, blotchy red. Her hand trembled, and champagne sloshed over the rim of the flute, splashing onto her silver shoes.
“You…” She choked on the word.
“Careful,” Arland said, turning back to the river. “You’re making a mess.”
Belle spun on her heel and stormed back into the restaurant, her humiliation radiating off her like heat.
Isolde walked onto the terrace a moment later, wearing a simple black jumpsuit that made her look like a shadow against the city lights. She watched Belle retreat, noting the rigid set of her shoulders.
“What did you do to her?” Isolde asked, settling against the railing beside him.
“Just helped her calibrate her self-perception,” Arland said. “She was operating on faulty data.”
Join thousands of fans on .com
Isolde chuckled, but the sound was cut short by a vibration against her thigh.
She pulled her phone from her clutch. The screen lit up with the name she had assigned him: Target.
Three missed calls in the last minute. Isolde frowned and answered.
“What?”
“Where are you?” Grayson’s voice was jagged, breathless with frustration. “You need to come back. Now.”
“I don’t live there anymore, Grayson. We’ve been over this.”
“It’s Kaiden,” Grayson shouted, the sound distorting over the line. “He’s sick. He has a fever. He’s screaming for you. He won’t let Belle touch him, he won’t let the nanny near him. He’s throwing things.”
A phantom tug pulled at Isolde’s chest. For five years, that cry had been her command. Kaiden sick meant Isolde didn’t sleep. Kaiden crying meant she dropped everything.
But then she remembered the park. Effie shoved into the mud. The word that had almost detonated in the school courtyard.
“Where is Belle?” Isolde asked, her voice cool.
“Belle is at a work dinner! She can’t leave!” Grayson lied.
Isolde glanced back through the glass into the restaurant, where Belle was busy charming a senator. A cold amusement settled in her gut.
“A work dinner?” Isolde replied, her voice dangerously pleasant. “Yes, I can see her now. She’s working the room very hard in that silver dress. Tell me, Grayson — is attempting to sit in my boss’s lap considered billable hours at SkyLine these days?”
“What are you talking about? You’re the only one he wants! Stop being selfish and get over here!”
“Selfish?” Isolde looked out at the city skyline — at the freedom she had clawed back inch by inch. “I have a job, Grayson. I am at a business function. I am busy.”
“If you don’t come home right now to take care of my son,” Grayson growled, his voice dropping low, “I will freeze every secondary credit card you have. You won’t be able to buy a pack of gum.”
.
.
.