My heart clenched. Did he mean love? Family? Children? A tremor of fear moved through me, but so did a glow of yearning. He was silent, though, and so I was too. If he was going to mention those specific things, he was going to have to do it without my prompting. And truth be told, maybe I wasn’t quite ready for a conversation like that anyway. Instead, I smiled at him. “Doesn’t seem very old-fashioned that I’m in your bed and your hands

are—” I let out a high-pitched laugh as he turned me suddenly, one hand settling on my thigh, the other on my naked breast.

“My hands are where?”

“Everywhere.”

He grinned and my heart stuttered at his male beauty. “Ah, but you’re wrong, this is the oldest fashionest thing of all time.”

I snorted and he laughed too, then glanced at the door, making a quiet shushing sound and winking.

“I’m going to enjoy not having to sneak around in New York,” I whispered.

Brant smiled happily. “Me too. You’re going to love it there.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Brant

“Can this wait until next week, Derek?” I felt like I’d been on the phone all damn day except for a brief visit to Isabelle in the stable, and I was ready to wrap things up. This week at Graystone Hill had gone by quickly, with much of it spent on video calls planning my latest opening. I was ready to get back to New York for the big event.

“Sorry, Brant, they need your signature to move forward. I emailed the documents. If you could just sign, scan, and send back, I’ll be out of your hair for the day. I know you have a woman to get back to. And listen, speaking of Isabelle, I pulled some strings and had a friend look into that car VIN you gave me a few days ago.”

I perked up at this news, sitting straighter. “Oh yeah? What’d he find?”

“It’s registered to Isabelle’s deceased husband. Purchased four years ago. No outstanding loan.”

I paused. “So it was purchased with cash.”

“Appears so. The guy must have been doing well. That’s a two-hundred-thousand-dollar car.”

“Huh,” I said distractedly. The guy had been a dishonest piece of trash who’d been lying to his wife. What else was he lying about? The car? The cash? What had he been planning? “Thanks for that, Derek. I appreciate you looking into it.”

“No problem.”

I opened my email, confirming that the document he’d mentioned was there. “I got the document. I’ll take care of this and—”

Mick appeared at the glass of the French doors, his eyes wide and his expression grim. That expression . . . my heart stuttered and my breath caught. Mick knocked at the glass, but I was already on my feet, saying a terse goodbye to Derek, and tossing my phone on the desk. When I opened the door, the words I’d somehow known I’d hear, burst from his mouth, “It’s Isabelle. She’s hurt. I tried to call your phone but you didn’t—"

I barely remembered tearing out of there, couldn’t recall running to the stable. But suddenly I was at the fence to the yard, jumping it in one maneuver because going around would cost me seconds I didn’t have. Isabelle. Isabelle.

She’s hurt.

No.

No.

A crowd of men had gathered in a circle, most squatting, tending to someone on the ground. Oh God, oh God. I rushed toward her while terror gripped me at what I’d see when I got there.

The men tending her looked back as I ran up, moving aside and creating room for me. She was lying on the ground, her head cradled in Eli’s lap as he held a white cloth to her forehead. It was soaked in blood and for a moment, I swayed, horror and grief pulsing in my chest, a deep groan of dread lodged in my throat, choking me.

Blood. Blood. So much blood.

Because she’s dead.

She’s dead and she’ll never come back to me.

I went down on my knees beside her, the groan breaking free and rasping out on a tortured breath. “Belle.”

Tags: Mia Sheridan Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net