Chapter 4

4

Lena

Now what? Can't he make anything easy for us? Does everything have to be not only on his terms but also the result of him driving a hard enough bargain that the other person is left in no doubt as to who holds all the cards?

I scowl at him. His grin widens. His features light up, and for a moment, he looks younger than his years. Is this how he was before he took on the responsibilities that brought him to where he is now? Then, a canny look enters his eyes, and I realize it's all a front. He turns on the charm when he needs to disarm his opposition. No doubt, he uses the tactic in his business meetings. No doubt, that's all this is to him. Another negotiation. It doesn't matter that it's his son's life he's toying with. All he's concerned with is winning.

"Well?" I jut out my chin. "What is it?"

"Just a little thing, I have a gathering for my friends to celebrate their wedding tomorrow night. The two of you will be there."

"You mean your business associates, don't you? Since when do you have friends?" Isaac sneers.

His father purses his lips. "These people started out as business associates but they have become friends. Apparently, even I can't go through life without forging the odd friendly relationship along the way." His voice is self-deprecating.

For a second, I glimpse a man who's lonely. Someone who's perfected the skill of building walls between himself and the world. Someone who doesn't want to let people get close to him… Not even his own family. Maybe it's not all that surprising how mixed-up Isaac is. If this is how his father treated him growing up, Isaac didn't have a chance.

In the ensuing silence, Isaac glowers. His father adopts a look of boredom. Does he really not care if his son has a roof above his head? The tension between them builds until my nerves threaten to snap. Anger pours off of Isaac's body, while his father lounges in his seat.

Isaac opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, I cut in, "We'll do it."

Isaac whips his head in my direction, his features angry. I hold his gaze, a pleading look in my eyes. "Please, let's not make this more difficult. You know we need this," I whisper.

He seems like he is going to protest, then nods. "Fine."

"This is your room?" I glance around the suite which is ten times the size of the crappy apartment we'd been living in, and I'm not exaggerating.

His father called for one of his staff to help us with the luggage, then he turned back to his computer in his study. Basically, we were dismissed. Isaac and I exchanged a glance, then I followed him out. He greeted the man who met us outside the study with a warmth I hadn't noticed when he met his father. Isaac hugged him, then introduced him as Craig. Isaac explained that Craig and his wife Miriam took care of the housekeeping. She also did the cooking while Craig looked after the upkeep of the house and the grounds. He also welcomed me—something Isaac's father hadn't done. Not that it mattered. We have a roof over our heads, and I have a new job.

Wait! I didn't ask his father how much he would pay. Of course, I assume it must have a good paycheck. Executive assistant roles normally do. A good EA can ease the role of a senior manager in a very effective manner. Provided the chemistry with the manager is right. Something I'm going to find out tomorrow, no doubt. Although, given the way things had been with his father today... maybe not.

"This is where I grew up, yes." Isaac gives his surroundings a cursory glance, then walks over and flings himself on the bed. His bag and mine have been placed just inside the room by the door. Craig offered to unpack for us, but I waved him off saying I'd do it myself.

Now, I wheel my suitcase over to the side by the wall, then place it flat on the floor.

"Use the closet," Isaac pipes up.

"Eh?" I glance in his direction.

He stabs his thumb in the direction of a door set not far from the bed. "It's a closet."

"Oh, okay." I straighten, then wheel my bag to the closet. When I push it open, my breath catches. I step inside a space that's about half the size of our studio. I hoist the bag onto one of the low-slung counters, then open it and hang up my clothes. When I'm done, my one good skirt and blouse, my spare pair of jeans, a few tops and sweat shirts, and my one formal dress have taken up a tiny portion of the space, along with my one pair of Louboutin's, which I spent nearly three months' salary on. But darn it, I wasn't going to buy a fake now, was I? Besides, I feel powerful when I wear them.

I turn around and walk out of the closet to find Isaac on his phone, texting away.

I walk over to him and he glances up, then places the phone aside. "So, what do you think?"

"I think you need to start thinking about what you're going to paint for your dad's offices."

"Ugh, don't remind me." He plumps the pillows behind him and leans back. "I mean, what do you think of the pad?"

"Pad, huh? Are you trying to tell me all this wealth is second nature to you, so you're not affected by being surrounded by luxury after months of living cramped in a studio with your easels for company?

He laughs. "Your sense of humor is your best asset, you know?"

"Gee, thanks." I sit down on the bed next to him. "Seriously, though, you need to start painting again so you can keep your end of the bargain to your dad."

"You know he doesn't care either way, right? He'll probably never see what I paint."

"Are you sure? He can't be all that callous," I murmur.

"Wanna bet?" He sits up. "You think I'm being overdramatic in how I act toward him. You probably think I'm ungrateful, even. After all, a man who gave me all this" —he circles the air with his finger— "can't be all bad, right?"

"You have to admit, this seems like being brought up in the lap of luxury," I agree.

"Ah, so now you think I am a spoiled little rich brat who doesn't value what he has?"

"I never said that." I reach for his hand, but he pulls away.

"My earliest memory of my father was me performing at a school play and waiting for him to turn up, which he never did. Then, there was the time I earned top honors in my class. I came rushing home, eager to show it to my father. I walked into his home office in the middle of a conference call, and he simply gestured for someone on his team to lead me out. I didn't see him for days after that. Not to mention, the number of cricket games I played which he never attended. The only time he seemed to take an interest was when I told him I wanted to be a painter."

"I take it, he wasn't happy about it?"

"That would be an understatement. He was vehemently opposed to it. No son of his was going to follow a creative profession. He told me he would cut off my inheritance unless I went to business school and spent a minimum of two years working with him."

"And you?—"

"Defied him, of course. I don't want his money or anything to do with him. Craig and Miriam were more parents to me than my own ever were."

"Your mother?"

"She divorced JJ when I turned eighteen, but even before that she wanted nothing to do with me or my sister. She was too busy with her social life and JJ was away traveling more often than not. It's Craig and Miriam who brought us up."

"You have a sister?"

He nods. "She's older than me. In many ways, she was my father's favorite. Not that he had more time for her, but she seemed content with whatever affection he deigned to bestow on her. That is, until she finished business school and decided not to join his business."

My gaze widens. "She didn't join his company?"

"Decided she'd rather carve out her career on her own. She wanted experience working in a place where she wasn't related to the boss."

"Sounds reasonable," I say slowly.

"Tell that to my father. He was seriously pissed about it. The two of them got into a huge row. It's the only time in my life I've seen my father actively get upset with either one of us. Clearly, he cared more about her leaving than my becoming an artist. She left in a huff, and as far as I know, she's never seen him since."

"When did this happen?"

"About three years ago, when she turned twenty-one. And yes, he did cut her out of his will, too."

Isaac pulls me into his arms. I cuddle in. Being with him has always been nice, comfortable. Like being with a brother.

Eh? Why did I go thinking that?

I mean, the sex with him isn't bad. He's a considerate lover. Maybe too considerate. I think I'd prefer someone more dominant. Someone who'd surprise me, and throw me on my back and fuck me until I can't think straight. With Isaac, it's always been… Not bad. Which is the same as it being good, right? What we have is good. It is.

I wrap my arms around him and pull him closer. "I feel sorry for your father. All alone in this big pile of stone. He has all of the luxuries in the world, but no one to share them with."

"You don't need to feel sorry for him. He's always been a hit with the ladies. After our mother left there was a never-ending stream of women he dated." He uses air quotes after that last word.

I lean back in his arms. "So, he brought these women home?"

"No, he made sure to keep his private life separate, but the newspapers always carried pictures of him with whoever his latest squeeze was."

A hot sensation tightens my chest, and I push it away. "At least he was thoughtful that way. He made sure not to expose the two of you to any more emotional turmoil," I offer.

"No, just having him for a father was enough," he scoffs.

"Maybe, now that you're living back home you could try to make amends with him?"

He stares at me, then bursts out laughing. "You're so cute. You don't get it, do you? My father doesn't need anyone. He's fine the way he is. All he needs is his business, and now, apparently, these friends he's gathered along the way. He'll probably make sure to write his will and gift all his wealth to bring down the national debt or something like that."

"You're kidding, right?"

"Nope." He pushes me onto my back and covers my body with his. "Absolutely not." He bends and brushes his lips across the base of my throat. "He's never going to forgive me or my sister Tally for not wanting to join his business." He fits himself firmly between my legs, and the column in his pants nudges my center.

"You need to unpack," I murmur.

"It can wait." He presses kisses up the side of my throat. I stare up at the ceiling. He brushes his lips over mine, and I turn my head.

"Stop, Isaac. I'm really tired."

"I know exactly how to relax you." He reaches for the neckline of my top and I grab his hand.

"Don't, please."

"What's wrong?" He glances between my eyes. "You're never in the mood lately."

"Probably because I've been too busy trying to pay our bills and keep us afloat."

"I never asked for you to take over that responsibility."

"We did share a flat together, so it was in my interest to keep our rent paid so we didn't get evicted."

"Clearly, you didn't succeed, because here we are," he retorts.

I stare at him, then shove at his shoulder. "Get off of me."

"Aww, come on, doll, you know I'm joking."

"No, I don't, and I hate it when you call me doll."

"You do?" He frowns.

"Yes, and I've told you so many times. And still, you insist on using that stupid term of endearment."

His face falls. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"Well, you did." I'm being uncharitable. It's not his fault that I haven't felt like sleeping with him in a while. Stress at work, combined with the worry of keeping a roof over our heads... I'm just so wrung out. And being here is a temporary solution, at best.

He could have helped, of course, but I knew what I was getting into with him. Isaac's anti-establishment, anti-system, and hates rules. No wonder, because he's spent most of his life rebelling against his father. I don't need to be a shrink to figure that out. And it's part of what attracted me to him, especially because I had been so focused on making something of myself. So, his easygoing nature had come as a relief. That is, until I was faced with the mountain of bills, and he remained carefree and irresponsible. Of course, I could have asked my parents for help, and they would have helped, but they're not well-off. I have two siblings who are still in university, and my parents are paying part of their tuition. I refused their help with my school bills, and took out a loan instead. Another bill. So, the only way out is to rely on Isaac's father for a little while, just until I get back on my feet.

"I'm sorry, Lena. I've been a terrible boyfriend, haven't I? But I promise, I'll make it up to you."

"I know you will." I lean up and kiss his cheek. "Now, I'm going to shower, then get something to eat. Do you want something?"