King of Pride (Kings of Sin, #2)(103)
Being near Isabella again was worth braving any brutal weather.
I would have to thank Clarissa later. I’d told her what happened with Isabella on our way to the bar, mainly because she was the only unbiased party I could talk to about the situation, and I didn’t believe for a second that she’d left because she was sick.
Running into Isabella tonight was a stroke of luck, and I had no intention of wasting it.
“So when exactly is the new vote?” Isabella asked with a sideways glance.
“Tomorrow.” I shoved my hands deeper into my pockets to keep from touching her. Her cheeks were red and her hair was tangled from the wind. Her eyeliner had smudged somewhere between the bar and the bridge, lending her an adorably raccoon-esque appearance.
And she looked so damn beautiful it made my heart stop for a second, just long enough to confirm she owned every beat.
Isabella halted dead in her tracks. “Tomorrow? Tomorrow tomorrow?”
“Yes.” A smile ghosted my mouth at her wide eyes. “Tomorrow tomorrow. As in Friday. D-day.
Whatever you want to call it.”
The past two weeks had been a whirlwind. Russell was officially fired and under criminal investigation for his activities. A majority of the blackmailed board members had resigned, triggering an emergency shareholder meeting to elect their replacements. The Young Corporation and Black & Co. were embroiled in a nasty legal fight across half a dozen fronts. It was a mess, but the sooner we dealt with it, the sooner we could move on.
Chaos only made for good business when it involved other people, not our own.
“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be securing votes and doing other…pre-selection things?” A blast of wind tossed Isabella’s question through the air.
“There’s nothing else I can do at this point.” I was remarkably calm about the vote this time around. It was down to the original candidates minus Russell—Tobias (who’d reentered the race), Laura, Paxton, and myself. I was confident about my chances, but a quarter of the board members were new, and I didn’t know which way they leaned.
However, I’d discovered over the past two weeks that losing the CEO position wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to me.
Losing Isabella was, and that had already come to pass.
A familiar ache surged through my chest. It was torture being this close to her without touching her, but at least she was here, in the flesh, instead of haunting my thoughts.
“We can continue discussing the vote, but I’m guessing you didn’t ask me here to talk about work,”
I said.
Her throat worked with a visible swallow.
Our last conversation swirled around us, carrying away our small talk and leaving fresh wounds and shattered hearts behind.
We’re not a good match.
It was fun while it lasted…
Please just leave.
Even now, weeks later, the memory of her words punched me through the chest with unrestrained brutality.
“I don’t know why I asked you here.” Isabella’s eyes dipped. “But I…when I saw you, I…”
The ache expanded into my throat. “I know,” I said quietly. “I miss you too, love.”
A tiny sob rent the air, and when she lifted her head, my heart cracked ever so slightly at tears staining her cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” Isabella whispered. “That night, I didn’t mean to…I—” Her sentence cut off with another hiccupping sob.
The sound ripped through me like a bullet, and I would’ve given up anything—my title, my company, my entire legacy—if it meant I could soothe her hurt for just one minute.
“Shh. It’s okay.” I gathered her in my arms while she buried her face in my chest, her shoulders shaking. She’d always seemed larger than life, with her uninhibited laugh and vibrant personality, but she felt so small and vulnerable in that moment that a sharp pain twisted my gut.
I hoped to God no one ever found out about the power this woman had over me, or I would be done for.
The night I walked out of her apartment, I’d drowned my sorrows in scotch and cursed every single person who had a hand in us meeting. Parker at Valhalla for hiring her, Dante and Vivian for always forcing me into the same room as her, her damn parents for giving birth to her. If it weren’t for them, I wouldn’t have met Isabella, and I wouldn’t have a hole the size of Jupiter in my chest.
I’d played, replayed, and dissected every second of our relationship until the memories bled out of me and I was empty. And when it was all gone—the anger, the hurt, the pain—the only thing left was a dark, gaping numbness.
I didn’t blame Isabella for what she did. Not anymore. The past month had taken a toll on both of us, and she’d been reeling from her visit home. The only thing I hated more than being apart from her was the knowledge of how poorly she viewed herself. She had no idea how incredible she was, and it killed me.
I tucked my head against the top of her head and tightened my hold around her when another icy gust slammed into us. The bridge had emptied; we were the only people brave or stupid enough to stay here while the temperatures dipped.
Surrounded by water, with the far-off lights of Manhattan on one side and Brooklyn on the other, the air silent save for Isabella’s soft sobs and the wind’s whistling howls, I had the eerie sense that we were the only people left in the world.