San Antonio's Finest Eligibles Page 17

  “If you need us for anything,” Lyon offered seriously, “you just have to let us know.”

  “I appreciate the offer,” Sean answered, “but I think Devon’s already taken care of everything.”

  Nicholas and Lyon appeared startled. “Devon?”

  Sean managed a grin. “I had no idea he was good at taking care of stuff like this, but I’ll make sure to let Hilary know that Devon’s perfect wife material—-”

  “It wasn’t me.”

  Devon’s tautly spoken words made Sean stiffen. “What do you mean it wasn’t you?”

  “It wasn’t me,” Devon repeated.

  “Then—-” Sean started to ask who the fuck he needed to thank when the truth hit him, coming out of nowhere, and his chest contracted violently. He turned around, and this time his gaze unerringly found her.

  Isla.

  She was speaking to Harry at the opposite side of the room, tall, poised, and elegant in a black sheath dress, and with her red gold locks swept up to a loose chignon that exposed the creamy length of her neck. His housekeeper came up to them, and he watched Isla excuse herself to speak with the older woman. Rosita was a dear, but she had a tendency to get herself in a dither over the smallest of things. Isla, however, handled her beautifully, and he saw Rosita walk away a minute later like a huge weight had been taken off her shoulders.

  Behind him, Devon said quietly, “She’s been incredible the past few days, Sean. I hope you know that.”

  He didn’t speak. He could only watch her, and as if sensing his gaze, he watched her lift her head, and just as his did, her beautiful emerald eyes found his without trouble.

  Sean sucked in his breath.

  Fuck.

  She was gazing at him with her heart on her sleeve, her eyes soft, and his whole body clenched at the way she made it impossible for anyone to remain blind.

  Isla loved him.

  Someone else called for her attention again – his ranch manager this time – and it was only when Isla turned away that he was able to wrench his gaze off her as well. He dragged breath into his lungs, but it didn’t help.

  Isla loved him.

  He looked at his friends’ faces and saw that they had seen the same thing, too.

  Isla loved him.

  Did everyone know? Was it Isla herself the only one who had yet to realize she was in love with him – just like she was the only one who had yet to realize that their marriage was never meant to last?

  Chapter Twelve

  Another week came to pass following Samuel’s death, and with each day, it became harder and harder to pretend that he didn’t know she was in love with him. It was in her eyes every time she looked at him. It was in her voice every time she talked to him, and most inescapable of all was the way she touched him. Every time her lips brushed against his, every time her fingers grazed his skin, every time their bodies came into contact –

  I love you. I love you. I love you.

  That was what her touch sang to him, and he was having a harder and harder time blocking the words out of his mind.

  He knew, of course, that it was only a matter of time before something would rock the boat, but Sean was resolved to keep them inside their glass house for as long as he could. He was a billionaire, dammit. What good would his damn money do if it couldn’t keep the cracks in their relationship from showing?

  He would spend whatever was needed, do anything that was needed – he would wait for as long as it took until Isla realized that things could still work between them...even if he didn’t love her.

  Love was real. He wasn’t that big an idiot to doubt its existence, but neither was he some whimsical fool to believe that love at first sight could actually happen. They had written to each other for two weeks, and they had been together for about the same time.

  Less than a month in total, he thought grimly. How in the fuck could one fall in love under a month’s time? How could mere days be enough for people to realize they had found the one they’re meant to spend the rest of their life with?

  It was on the twenty-first of December that an emergency demanded Sean to fly out to San Antonio, and Isla joined Sean in his truck as one of his men drove them to the ranch’s private hangar. When it was time to see him off, he was surprised to have her suddenly burst into tears as she threw her arms around him.

  “Hey.” He gently pulled away to tip her chin up. “What’s this about?”

  She could only shake her head at him, tears still running down her face.

  “I’ll only be gone for two days, darlin’.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

  Isla watched Sean board the helicopter, and she kept watching him until the blur of her tears made him fade.

  Sean’s driver took her back to the ranch and politely kept his gaze averted as she thanked him in a tear-clogged voice.

  After, Isla slowly climbed up the stairs, but she couldn’t quite make it all the way to the top before her knees gave out and she burst into uncontrollable tears. She had promised herself she would give him time, but each day just made her pain grow. She had thought nothing could hurt worse than Jonathan’s betrayal, but she was wrong. She had liked Jonathan, cared for him, but what she felt for the other man had never been love and she knew that now.

  Sean was the man she loved – but he didn’t love her.

  SEAN CALLED ISLA’S mobile as soon as his chopper landed on the rooftop of the fifty-floor skyscraper he co-owned with the other members of SAFE. Her phone rang endlessly before switching to voice mail, and so it went until it was time to join his executives for an emergency board meeting and he was forced to push all thoughts of Isla back of his mind.

  The meeting lasted for hours, and throughout it Sean had fought hard against the urge of calling Isla until she picked up. A part of him told himself he was being silly. He was acting like she had a fucking bounty on her head, and wasn’t that as stupid as believing in love at first sight?

  It was almost five in the afternoon when the meeting finally ended, and the first thing he did was call his ranch and ask Rosita about Isla.

  It’s supposed to be a secret, Rosita confided to him in a whisper, but she’s out shopping for your Christmas gift.

  He thanked his housekeeper and ended the call. He told himself he was worrying for nothing, but when his secretary knocked on his door and told Sean that his lawyer was asking to see him without an appointment, a sick feeling started in his stomach.

  Something was wrong.

  He was damn sure of it now.

  “What brings you here?” Sean asked quietly as soon as the older man was seated across his desk.

  “Not good news, I’m afraid.” Oscar Mitchell’s voice was grave.

  Sean took the folder being handed to him.

  Oscar saw the billionaire whiten and felt sorry for the younger man. What a damn mess, he thought sadly.

  For a long time, Sean could only stare blindly at the contract he was holding. The terms stated in it were short and to the point: Isla no longer intended to push through with their marriage plans, and she was willing to pay whatever penalties she could incur because of her decision.

  “When did she give you this?” he asked tautly.

  “About nine in the morning.”

  Just a little after he had left for San Antonio, he thought bleakly. Her tears made sense now, and he felt like ten thousand kinds of a fool for not realizing anything sooner.

  “Did she tell you why?”

  “Not in so many words,” Oscar answered heavily, “but I can hazard a guess. The first time she came to me was a day after your father’s funeral. She was in tears, but when I offered to call you she went damn near hysterical. It took some time to calm her down and even then there were bits and pieces missing, she kept crying—-” The lawyer saw the way his billionaire client blanched and realized he had perhaps spoken too much.

  “I’m sorry, son.”

  Sean shook his head. “Just...tell me
everything. I need to hear everything.”

  “She told me she offered to help you with an escrow account concerning your father’s estate.”

  Sean recalled this incident. He had been in his study doing his best to ignore his migraine, and she had been gently insistent that he get some rest.

  “Isla’s a paralegal,” Sean said finally.

  “I know.” The older man gave him a wry smile. “And a damn good one at that, but we’ll talk about it later.” His tone sobered. “Ms. Bouchard also told me you provided her with the password for an app you have in your phone, and it was there she had accidentally seen the divorce agreement you asked me to draft.”

  Agony tore through Sean as he recalled all the terms in that damn contract and how it would seem to Isla.

  “She asked me to spell it out – she didn’t want to misunderstand.” Oscar’s next words became a whisper as he remembered the ravaged look on Isla’s face. “She was practically begging me to tell her what she already knew was wrong. But I couldn’t lie to her.”

  Oh God.

  “She made me go over each condition one by one. Did this paragraph mean you intended to divorce her as soon as your father was okay? Did this paragraph mean you wanted her to drop your name as soon as you were divorced? Did this paragraph mean you wanted her out of your life for good?”

  No. Fuck, no.

  “And I had to say yes, son. I had no choice. I had to say yes to all of them.”

  Sean’s fists clenched. God, Isla. Why? Why? Why?

  “When it was time for her to leave, she knew a conflict of interest potentially existed by then, and she made sure I wouldn’t tell you anything...”

  Sean saw the older man’s cheeks flush. The fact that the lawyer had been a long-time friend of his father’s had him thinking about birds of the same feather. “She found out about your affair with your secretary?”

  Oscar gave him a clipped nod. “My wife and I have led separate lives for years, but any hint of adultery can still get me disbarred. That’s why I told you Ms. Bouchard makes a damn good paralegal. I don’t know how she found out about it in so short a time, but she knew, and she used it to keep my mouth shut.” He looked at Sean squarely in the eye. “I will understand if you have me fired—-”

  “There will be none of that,” Sean interrupted with a twist of his lips. “This matter is between Isla and me, and you were just the unlucky one who got caught in the crossfire.”

  “Thank you.” Oscar’s tone was gruff with relief. Although he had been ready to face the consequences of his actions, he had also been dreading losing Sean Northwood as a client, which would have meant a drastic cut in his income.

  Looking at the younger man, he said quietly, “I’m sorry it came to this.” He hesitated for a moment and then said slowly, “She called me almost every day after that. She knew I had a copy of the draft, and she wanted to know if you had told me to get rid of it.”

  “I didn’t even remember it existed,” Sean said bitterly, “until you told me.”

  “Then does that mean you have changed your mind about it?”

  “I’d be crazy if I did, don’t you think?” Sean asked between clenched teeth. “She was the modern-day equivalent of a mail-order bride. It’s crazy enough that I ordered one, but I’d be a hundred times crazier if I acted like she did.”

  “And how did she act?”

  “Like she was in love with me,” Sean bit out.

  “Crazier things have been known to happen, son.”

  Sean threw the lawyer a violent look. “We knew each other for less than a fucking month, and half of that was through letters alone.”

  “That still isn’t an answer to my question.” He saw that the billionaire was fit to be tied by the time he finished speaking, but Oscar didn’t back down. Talking to Sean, he couldn’t stop thinking about the poor woman’s face as she cried in his office like she had just had the life inside of her extinguished.

  “Forget what logic dictates that you say, Sean, and tell me what you truly think.”

  Sean’s jaw clenched. “I don’t have you on my payroll to be my goddamn shrink, Oscar. You’re a lawyer—-”

  “So I am,” the older man acknowledged. “But I’m also a man who’s been in love.” He grimaced. “I’m still in love with my wife, the whole town knows that, but I lost her because I was stupid, and that’s that. However – I’d still believe her over any judge in court.”

  Sean didn’t answer this time.

  “If my wife suddenly showed up on my door and told me she wanted me back and that she loved me, I’d say I love you, too. Even if we hadn’t seen each other for years and she’s been known to tell everyone she hates my guts – I’d believe her. Things don’t have to make sense to be real, son. Sometimes, it’s the things that defy logic that make the most sense. Sometimes, those are the only things that would feel right.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  It was ten minutes before seven when Isla’s cab dropped her at her parents’ two-story Tudor home. While all their neighbors already had their Christmas decorations up, with either festive wreaths hanging on their doors or strings of Christmas lights curling around the bars of their fenced gates, the Bouchard residence stood proudly in stark isolation, with not even a single red stocking in sight.

  Home sweet home, Isla thought, and a dreadful feeling started in the pit of her stomach.

  She had been stunned but cautiously optimistic when she received a text from her normally uncommunicative father with an invitation to join the family for dinner on Christmas Eve. A cynical voice in her mind had warned Isla against saying yes, but a mixture of loneliness and desperate hope had her texting her father back to accept his invitation.

  It had been three days since she had left Sean, and every minute of those days had been a torment. She couldn’t stop thinking of him, and even when she closed her eyes to go to sleep his face was all she could see.

  When she had stumbled across the draft of the divorce agreement, Isla’s first instincts had been to run away and lick her tears in private. Sean had lied to her, just like Jonathan had. Sean did not love her, just like Jonathan hadn’t. And Sean had intended to leave her, the way Jonathan had.

  All of these things should have made her fly into a rage, but instead it had Isla locking herself in the bath and sobbing her heart out. Because all of those things had made her realize something else, and it was that she was in love with Sean.

  And with Sean, it was so much worse than how it had been with Jonathan.

  Jonathan had never been her whole life the way Sean was.

  Jonathan had made her dream of white weddings, but Sean had made her dream of a happy-ever-after.

  Sean was everything, and there was no loving another man after him.

  And so she had wiped her tears and told herself she would make Sean love her. She would be patient, she would work hard – she would be a good little girl in hopes that Santa would come down the chimney and reward her with Sean’s heart.

  Or at least that had been the plan, but she had underestimated how much it would hurt, knowing that the man lying next to her in bed was only pretending to love her.

  And so she had left.

  Before he could hurt her even more, before he got tired of playing the nice guy and ask her to leave, before she could hate him for something he couldn’t help –

  Why can’t you love me?

  Why? Why? Why?

  She had left.

  ISLA WAS NERVOUS BUT hopeful as she pressed the doorbell button while balancing the Christmas gifts she had bought for her family. There was a Hermès scarf for India, a Chanel purse for her mother, and a Louis Vuitton wallet for her father. It had burned a hole in her already depleted savings, but Isla didn’t care. Christmas meant new beginnings, she thought firmly. Money could be earned back anytime, but the love of one’s family was priceless.

  Thomas Bouchard opened the door and gave his older daughter a distant smile. “You’re here.”

&
nbsp; “Merry Christmas, Dad.” She reached up to kiss her father on his cheek, but either by design or accident Thomas had turned away by then, and Isla’s cheeks flushed as she pulled back.

  The rest of the family was already waiting for her at the dining table. “Merry Christmas, Mom, India. I, umm, brought gifts.”

  “You didn’t have to,” Isla’s mother said stiffly. “You know we don’t celebrate Christmas.” And with that, the gifts she had spent over an hour meticulously wrapping were disregarded.

  As Isla took her usual place on the table, she noticed belatedly that the table had only been set for four, and as soon as she lifted her gaze, India said carelessly, “Jonathan and I have broken up.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” As Isla spoke the words, she realized that she truly did mean it. “Maybe things could still work out—-”

  India threw her older sister a look of contempt. “Can’t you drop your goody-two-shoes act for one minute? You thought you had us fooled, didn’t you?”

  Isla was genuinely confused. Where was all this hatred coming from, and what did India mean that she had them all fooled?

  “I should’ve known there was more to those boring business conferences you insisted on attending,” her younger sister sneered.

  Isla could only stare at the younger woman. “I have no idea—-”

  “Oh, please. None of us are idiots here. You only pretended to be heartbroken when Jonathan dumped you—-”

  “You mean when you and Jonathan cheated on me,” Isla interrupted flatly.

  “And you didn’t cheat on him?” India retorted. “We read People’s coverage on your fairytale romance. You met Sean Northwood in a conference last year, and you had been exchanging emails since then.”

  Isla’s mouth opened and closed. Too late she remembered the story that Charlotte’s agency had subtly fed to the press.

  “You can’t deny the truth, can you?” India challenged maliciously. “The truth is, you just kept Jonathan around because you weren’t sure if you could nab someone like Sean—-” India let out a nasty laugh. “I’d give you props for sheer cheek. What did you do to make him propose to you? Offer your virginity on a silver platter?”