Shiver Series

 

A BAD BOY BILLIONAIRE ROMANCE

 

 

By Michelle Love

When billionaire art dealer, Sam Levy, meets gorgeous young artist Isabel Flynn, his life is turned upside down. The incredible sexual attraction between them is only matched by their emotional connection – they both fall hard and fast for the other. But outside their little bubble of happiness, they both have people in their lives who wish them harm, and when Isa’s first exhibition is vandalized and the gallery burned to the ground, they must face up to the fact that dark forces are at work which could destroy their love forever…

Part #1 Love Me

 

 

Afterwards, Sam would think back about how it all started and how he had found her. After all of the love, the laughter, the tears, the terror, the blood. The loss. After all of that, how it began came down to a simple matter of whether to turn left… or right.

 

It was that rare thing – a cloudless Fall day. Above Seattle, Mt Rainier painted itself onto the skyline; the calm waters of the Bay swishing gently on the wooden piers and pillars. Tourists and locals intermingling; panhandlers ducking the sharp eyes of local cops.

Samuel Levy sat on one of the benches on Pier 39, people-watching, breathing in the smell of the water and of the restaurants along the waterfront. He watched the ferryboats leaving their moorings and drifting lazily, churning up the water of Elliot Bay in their wake.

He envied their sedate passage, the excitement of travel, delivering people and tourists to the many islands of Puget Sound.

He, however, had back-to-back meetings, most of them nothing to do with his actual job, his passion: art. Accountants, business managers… Sam sighed. The minutiae of running his own business. The dull stuff, the thing he had been trying to avoid all week.

He glanced up at the mountain again. It always seemed to him that it wasn’t real, that it had been painted onto the Seattle Skyline as an afterthought. Beautiful.

Sam took a swig of bottled water. Nah. Nope. No. He’d blow off the meetings; it was too gorgeous a day to waste in airless meeting rooms, losing the will to live. He could go do tourist stuff – although since falling in love with the place a few years back, he’d already done most of it. He could catch a ferryboat out to one of the islands to go and see old friends or to check out new local artists.

He stood up, still trying to decide. Left to the city, right along the waterfront to the ferry terminal.

Left or right?

Ten minutes later, he was on one of the ferryboats on his way to Bainbridge Island. He pulled his cell-phone from his pocket and scrolled through his contacts and dialed.

‘Eagle Harbor Gallery.’

Sam recognized her voice immediately. Zoe Marshall, retired art professor, gallery owner.

‘Zoe, it’s Sam.’

There was a long pause. ‘Samuel Alexander Levy, where the hell have you been? It’s about damn time you called me!’

Sam laughed; Zoe was only a few years older than his thirty-eight, but she always made him feel like an errant schoolboy, in the best way.

‘I can do you one better than that; I’m on my way to you now.’

Zoe squealed excitedly. ‘Your timing is perfect. Seb’s home from college, he’ll be so delighted to see you. Isa will be here later too, it is about time you two met.’

There was a distinct tone to her voice when she said the young woman’s name and Sam grinned.

‘Zo’, what are you up to?’

‘Nothing.’ She was all innocence. ‘Anyways, you’ll stay for dinner, yes?’

He agreed and saying goodbye to his friend, ended the call. He laughed to himself. Zoe never changed; she was always trying to fix him up.

Sam had known Seb, Zoe’s teenage son, from when he’d been a child (his father hadn’t stuck around long after Zoe fell pregnant) but he’d never met Isa – Isabel – Zoe’s de facto daughter. He knew she was an Art major, that Zoe had taken her in. Sam shook his head; he couldn’t remember the rest of her story now. He knew she was an artist, that Zoe and Seb adored her and that she was kind of reclusive. After Casey, his now thankfully ex-wife, Sam knew he wasn’t about get involved with another artist, but it would be good to meet someone so special to his old friends.

 

Zoe screeched across the gallery floor, a whirlwind of multi-colored scarves and enveloped him in a perfumed hug. His six-five dwarfed the African-American woman, despite her breakneck designer heels. Her round face, with its soft lines and sparkling brown eyes, beamed up at him. Sam laughed at her exuberance and hugged her tightly.

‘Hey shorty, it’s been too long.’

Zoe drew back from the hug and tried to look disapproving. ‘And whose fault is that, you big lug?’ She squinted at him and touched the salt-and-pepper hair at his temples. ‘That wasn’t there the last time we saw you – in fact; I seem to remember you were fresh out of diapers…’

‘Yeah, yeah, keep on exaggerating. Some of us have work to do. We can’t go gallivanting around pretending to be professors.’

Sam ducked to avoid the swipe she aimed at him, then covered his ears mockingly as she screeched ‘Seb!’ towards the back of the gallery.

Sam briefly wondered where the mysterious Isabel was but then was assailed again by the young man who came bounding through the door, his wide smile already ear-splitting.

‘Dude!’

 

Sam hugged him. Seb was nearly as tall as he was now, but gangly. All loose limbs and energy. His long dark dreads were tied back neatly, his t-shirt artfully torn to reveal a hard athlete’s body. Sam suddenly felt old and told him so. Zoe rolled her eyes.

‘Imagine how I feel,’ she muttered, then turned to Seb, ‘Where’s your sister?’

‘Still at work.’

Zoe sighed. ‘Of course, she is.’

Sam smiled at her exasperation expression. ‘What does she do?’

‘She’s a research fellow at UW,’ Seb interrupted his mother. ‘A good one. They all wanted her when she applied.’

‘Of course, they did,’ Zoe was preening, and Sam grinned. ‘Seb, go and call the university, ask her where she is.’

‘Or I could just call her cell phone, Grandma,’ Seb muttered, wandering off. Zoe scowled at his retreating back and bore Sam into another room off the main gallery.

‘Come here; I want to show you some of Isa’s work.’

 

Isa’ slid around the corner of the gallery unseen and quickly darted up the stairs to the apartment above the garage. Inside, she didn’t turn the lights on, wanting to be alone before she was inevitably summoned for the ‘family’ meal up in the main house. She just needed an hour, two maybe, on her own to unwind, chill out, eat junk food. There was a bag of hand-cooked potato chips with her name on it that she’d been thinking about all day.

She headed straight for her secret stash – and found it empty.

‘Fucking, fucking Seb…’ she muttered, disappointed. She sighed and went towards the bathroom, shedding clothes as she went. The apartment was little more than three rooms divided by screens. A small bedroom with her queen-sized bed, books piled up on her nightstand. The bathroom with its claw-footed bath and ancient shower head; and the open plan kitchen/living room, where all manner of art supplies, records, more books and half- finished soda cans made it her space, the place she loved the most.

Isabel Flynn loved her job, loved it but lately all she seems to be doing was catching up on her boss’s paperwork for him and babysitting him through a particularly grueling funding application. At twenty-eight, she hadn’t imagined she’d still be working on her Ph.D., funding it through long hours at the university and working at the gallery. She felt frustrated at not being where she thought she would be but then she reminded herself where she came from. She’d leave but really, and she smiled to herself now at the thought of his crumpled blazer and bedraggled beard. She loved Sandy; he epitomized every stereotype of the downtrodden college professor. But the hours at the moment were killing her, and there was so little time left to paint.

She sighed, rubbing conditioner into her hair, closing her eyes, letting the warm spray hit her face and scrub it clean. Dressing in her usual uniform - jeans and t-shirt - and half-heartedly drying her hair, she pondered pretending that she was sick and avoiding whatever Zoe had planned for tonight. Then she felt bad; Zoe had saved her, done everything for her since she’d been estranged from her family. Zoe was her family now.

 

‘And that sneaky chip-thief,’ she muttered to herself as she reluctantly closed her front door and headed towards the gallery.

Inside it was quiet so she could hear Zoe on the phone at the front. Isa slipped around to the small corner where her artwork was and was delighted and gratified to see a Sold sticker on one of her biggest pieces. That would pay her rent for the next six months, she thought and gave a silent ‘whoop!’

‘It’s stunning.’

The voice - the silky, deep, sensual voice - from behind her made her leap around in shock and clutch her chest as adrenaline coursed through her.

 

‘Holy shivering fuck balls,’ she said, trying to catch her breath. The man behind her burst out laughing. Jesus, Isa let out a long breath, gorgeous. So tall. He towered above her five-five and suddenly she felt lost for words. His closely cropped dark hair, intense green eyes, a body that seemed carved from marble. Expensive tailored three-piece suit. His finely angled face was softened by that smile.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.’

She stared at him dumbly for a second, not quite believing he was real – he was so… perfect. She was amazed to find her body start to quiver, a pulse beat between her legs. Who was this guy? She shook herself.

‘It’s okay.’ It was, it really was. She stuck out her hand. ‘Isabel Flynn.’ When they shook, his warm, dry hand dwarfed hers and she wasn’t imagining it, held hers a little longer than necessary. The atmosphere in the room was so charged; it made her breathless. He smiled down at her, and his eyes were curious, alive, filled with desire? Am I projecting? She could imagine him suddenly pulling her into his arms to kiss her or push her against the wall and…

‘Sam Levy.’

That brought her to her senses. ‘Sam Levy? The Sam Levy?’

He smiled, and his eyes shone. ‘For my sins.’

 

Wow. Sam Levy, here in front of her. His reputation as one of the best art dealers in the world, his impeccable taste. He was almost legendary in the art world. Zoe had often told her there was no-one better. She just hadn’t mentioned how freaking handsome he was. Isa was surprised; he was younger than she would have expected for someone of his standing. She was aware she was gaping, and smoothed her expression, smiling politely at him.

‘It’s good to meet you.’ Her voice shook slightly, and she cursed herself silently. Sam smiled again, touched a finger to her cheek. The gesture so intimate, so comforting, so kind, it made her whole body quiver. Sam nodded again at her painting.

‘As I said, it’s stunning. Incredible. The depth of color, the way you’ve blended them to create… Wow. Fan of Rothko, hey?’

She grinned. ‘You got it. And I just love playing with color, putting shades that should clash wildly but somehow work.’

Sam nodded. ‘I know – that´s why I bought it. I have a very simple apartment, mostly boring monochrome, I’m afraid. But this will bring the place alive, be a focal point.’

Isa was speechless for a section. Sam Levy had bought her work. Sam Levy.

‘You bought my painting? I’m…’ she laughed incredulously, ‘…honored. Thank you so much.’

‘Thank you.’

Their eyes met and locked and desire flooded through Isa. God, kiss me please, please… Sam smiled as if could read her mind and stepped closer. Isa’s breath caught in her throat as she looked up at him. She could feel the heat of his body, breathe in the clean, woody, spicy scent of his cologne. Every nerve in her body was on fire, electric, wanting, needing him to touch her.

‘Hey, you two.’

Seb’s voice broke the spell, and they both looked away, startled by the intrusion. Seb, clueless to the sexual tension in the air, grinned at them and then turned and yelled.

‘Ma! I found them!’

Sam grinned at Isa, who smiled ruefully, shaking her head. An unspoken joke between them. So intimate. Zoe appeared, berating them for hiding from her, insisting they come back to the house for dinner.

 

Sam followed them, walking next to the young artist, and he couldn’t help resting the flat of his hand on the small of her back, feeling her stiffen at his touch. Isabel Flynn. In the small time they’d known each other, he’d felt something he’d never felt before. This is it – the lightning bolt moment.

He’d never really believed in love at first sight – he was a goddamned adult for Christ’s sake – but meeting this woman, with her soft curves, tumbling mahogany waves of hair, almost to her waist with those huge, warm dark brown eyes and the scent of her... He wanted to strip her slowly, unwrap her like a gift and cover that full, rose-pink mouth with his. He imagined revealing her body, that gorgeous, creamy dark olive skin, taking her nipples into his mouth, kissing her soft belly…

Get a grip.

 

Inside, Zoe had (deliberately?) seated him next to Isa at the small, round dinner table and now her hand rested next to his on the tablecloth. It took all his control not to take it, to feel the fit of her small hand in his. Sam was confident she was feeling it too; there were two spots of pink high on her cheeks and when she met his gaze, neither of them could look away. Her slim thigh rested so close to his; he wanted to slide his hand around it… God; he wanted to touch her.

Sam was glad when Zoe brought the food to the table – a rich, heavenly spiced jambalaya that Seb fell on with abandon, much to everyone’s amusement. The food was glorious, the company and conversation lively and fun but all Sam was aware of was the beautiful woman beside him. He was sure that when she met his gaze, she could see the naked lust in his eyes and the yearning to just touch her, kiss her, and fuck her. His cock pressed uncomfortably against his pants just at the thought. When she leaned closer, passing a dish to Seb, crossing him with an apologetic glance, he could smell her perfume, her clean skin, fresh air, and gardenias.

‘Sam, how long are you in the city this time? Is it going to be another ten years before we see you?’ The expression on Zoe’s face was amusement; she looked between Sam and Isa as if she knew very well what was going on. Sam smiled and shook his head.

‘Not this time, Zo… Cal and I have set up here in the city for the long term.’ He looked at Isa. ‘I’m looking for new artists to mentor, to promote.’ Suddenly he didn’t care if Zoe and Seb were there, he gazed into Isa’s warm brown eyes and smiled. ‘Seems I came to the right place.’

 

After dinner, Isa volunteered to do the dishes, and Zoe bore Seb away, shooting a loaded glance at her son and smirking to herself. Sam took the wet plates from Isa and dried them, stacking them neatly on the counter-top. The heat between them was becoming unbearable. Her tee–shirt, faded pink, didn’t quite meet the top of her jeans, giving him a tantalizing glimpse of the honey skin of her belly, and when she moved, the beautiful curve of the small of her back.

To distract himself, he asked her if she’d ever shown her work. She shook her head, smiling shyly. ‘No… I’m realistic. Art is my life, my… passion…’ she cleared her throat then, flushing. ‘But making a living as an artist nowadays? The market is so competitive, cut-throat, really and I’m just an amateur. The materials I use are mostly cheap stock, bargain basement stuff. When I get to use the good stuff, it’s usually a gift from Zoe. She keeps trying to persuade me to exhibit, but I really don’t think I’m good enough.’

Sam took another plate from her. ‘I disagree. Even if you didn’t use the best quality materials, you would never know. The richness and depth of color you’ve coaxed out them is extraordinary. I appreciate your reticence but sometimes you just have to say what the hell and go for it.’ He dropped his voice then. ‘Of course, that’s true of most things in life.’

Isa stopped, her hands deep in hot water, and looked at him. ‘You think?’

He gazed back at her, waiting for a beat before he replied. ‘Absolutely.’ God, he wanted to kiss her, take that beautiful little face in his hands, and press his lips against hers. ‘Do you have anything you can show me?’ His voice was thick with desire, with double meaning.

She hesitated before drying her hands on the dish cloth he was holding. Their fingers brushed, and he drew in a sharp breath. She looked up at him, her eyes searching his. He could see she was making a decision.

‘Yes,’ she said finally. ‘In my apartment. Upstairs in my apartment.’ She broke off and smiled softly, taking the last plate out of his hands and stacking them all together in the cupboard. When she was done, she turned, held her hand out to him and he took it, no more words needed.

 

Isa led Sam out of the house and to the stairs to her department. As she climbed the stairs in front of him, she felt him slide a hand up her leg to her inner thigh and shivered with anticipation. God… she never did this, never did the one-night stand thing but this… She didn’t know what this was, but every cell in her body was crying out for his touch.

When they were inside, she suddenly felt shy as she stood in front of him. He brushed his fingers along the bare strip of skin between her t-shirt and her jeans, the dry pad of his thumb circling her deep round navel. Isa felt herself sway at the feeling, a small moan escaping her lips.

‘I’ve wanting to do that all night,’ he said softly then his lips were on hers, soft, soft, then as his hands slid into her hair, his kiss became hungry, brutal, making her head swim. When they broke apart, gasping for air, she smiled.

‘Wow… just wow…’ She pressed herself against his hard body, feeling the immense strength in his arms, the firm chest, so wide, so massive against her tiny frame. Sam’s hands were on her, under her t-shirt, on the hot skin of her back as he pressed his lips down into her neck. He lifted her into his arms, and she wrapped her legs around his back.

‘The bed?’ His eyes were frantic with desire and she nodded towards her bedroom, not wanting to speak, just kiss him and taste him.

Sam set her down in front of the bed and gently slid her t-shirt over her head. Her hair tumbled down, soft against the skin of her back. She reached for the jacket of the exquisitely tailored suit he was wearing, but he stopped her hands, capturing both of them with his.

‘I want to strip you.’ His voice was husky, and Isa felt her nipples harden at the command in it. She was his – that much was clear. He slid his fingers underneath her bra straps and pulled them down slowly, too slowly. A fierce drum beat between her legs as he kissed her shoulders, her neck, and her throat. He expertly undid the hook of her bra, and as her full, creamy breasts fell into his waiting hands, he dipped his head and took each nipple into his mouth, in turn, flicking his tongue around the small bud. Isa swayed and gasped at his touch, felt his laugh with satisfaction at her utter helplessness.

‘Sam…’ Her voice was a whisper as he moved downward, kissing her stomach, the soft rise, and fall of her belly. ‘What are you going to do to me?’

He looked up, his lips still pressed again her soft belly, then smiled. ‘I’m going to fuck you, my beautiful Isabel, all night, in every way you want me too.’

 

She nodded, lost in the heady, delirious feeling of him. He slid her jeans down, then her panties and finally she was naked. He stepped back to admire her and the way he looked at her make her breathless. He touched her lips with the pad of his thumb, gently, and then slowly drew it down her body, between her breasts, down the line of her stomach, into the hollow of her navel. God, that felt so good… He swept her onto the bed, covering her body with his own still fully clothed, and she reveled in the abandonment of being totally at his mercy. He kissed her mouth again, his tongue gently massaging hers, exploring. His eyes were locked with hers, an unspoken connection forming between them. His lips moved across her skin, downwards, her throat, her breasts, her stomach, her belly. Isa gasped, the anticipation of his mouth on her sex was unbearable but, grinning, Sam stopped and flipped her onto her stomach. He kissed the length of her spine, bit gently into the flesh of her buttocks. His hands pushed her legs apart but still, he did not touch her and Isa moaned her frustration.

‘You are a very, very impatient young woman.’ He was smiling when she rolled onto her back and pulled herself up into a sitting position. He finally allowed her to touch him, as she freed his huge, diamond-hard cock from his pants. She looked up and smiled before taking it into her mouth, running her tongue up its length and circling the sensitive tip.

She heard him gasp as she began to slide his cock in and out of her mouth, his fingers tangling in her hair, hearing him whisper her name again and again. She could feel her own sex swell and moisten at the thought of his cock sliding into it. She tightened her grip on his firm ass, digging her nails into it as she tasted him, sucked him.

As she felt him near the climax, he gently moved her away and tore off the rest of his clothes, pushing her back onto the bed, kissing her fiercely before moving down her body. Isa gasped as his mouth clamped greedily onto her sex, his tongue sweeping along the soft crevice, his teeth grazing her clit as it hardened and pulsed under his touch. His tongue delved deeply into the honey-slicked warmness of her, his hands pushing her legs further apart, almost to the point of pain. His teeth bit down gently on the moist peach of her outer labia, the delicate wings of the inner, and she cried out his name, willing him on. God, he was unrelenting in his assault on every one of her senses. He looked up, grinned and pressed his lips against her belly as he began to slide two fingers in and out and in and out of her, his thumb stroking her clit. He moved so he could kiss her mouth again, and she could taste her own sweetness mingling with his cool fresh mouth.

‘God, you’re beautiful,’ he said, and she felt tears spring to her eyes at the love in his voice. Who was this man, this glorious, glorious man? Two hours ago she was grumbling about stolen potato chips and now… oh!

He drove his cock into her, ramming himself in hard, as if he wanted to split her in two. Isa curved into him, her legs clamped around him, urging him deeper, deeper, deeper. His hands pinned hers to the bed, his green eyes locked onto hers as he fucked her, owning her body entirely.

She knew then she would do anything for this man and when her orgasm came, she had never experienced anything like it, an explosion of senses, her limbs liquid, her head rolling back as the second, third waves hit her. Sam clamped his teeth onto her shoulder as he came, groaning, thrusting hard as his semen pumped into her.

Isa knew that if she died at this moment, at this very second, she wouldn’t care. As they collapsed back onto the bed, Sam drew her close, his kisses soft now, and as they caught their breath, they smiled at the other, starting to laugh from the relief of tension.

‘Holy hell,’ Sam ran his hand through his damp hair, grinning widely, ‘...that was intense. You’re amazing.’ He kissed her deeply, and Isa felt herself melt into it, a tender, loving kiss that sent her head whirling again.

‘Now we’ve got that out of the way…’she joked and he laughed.

‘No better way to introduce yourself,’ he dipped his head and kissed her breasts then looked up. ‘If completely unexpected.’

Isa grinned at him. ‘Being serious for a second… I don’t usually do this; I promise you.’

He pressed his mouth to hers. ‘None of my business anyways. I’m just honored, so thank you.’

She was silent for a moment, trying to hide a smile. ‘Did you just thank me for sex?’

They both burst out laughing, and he shrugged good-naturedly. It was amazing how his smile softened the hard angles of his Roman god face, and she ran a finger across his cheek, drinking in his features, the long aquiline nose, the big clear green eyes, the full mouth. He was right, though; she felt as if this whole evening had been a dream – a really, really filthy one, she grinned to herself and gave herself a mental high-five.

 

‘What?’

She told him and he raised an eyebrow in mock reproach. ‘But I get into trouble for saying thanks?’ He slid up to lie back against the headboard and pulled her into his arms.

She snickered, snuggling into his chest, which she was sure was actually – not figuratively but actually - hewn from granite. His arms tightened around her, and she felt him kiss the top of her head.

‘Beautiful girl,’ he whispered, ‘where did you come from?’

She didn’t answer, just pressed her mouth against his chest. She could feel his cock already hardening again, pressing against her thigh.

 

Sam sighed, heady with desire, as Isa straddled him, feeling her thighs as they slid over his own. She took his cock in her hands and gently moved up and down the shaft. He sighed at her touch, and slid his hands around her waist, stroking her lovely belly with his thumbs. Her skin was a beautiful dark olive color – Zoe had told him Isa’s grandmother had come from India – and the way her long dark hair cascaded over her shoulders – Christ, she was breath-taking.

He slid his hands between her legs and spread the lips of her sex, feeling her honey dampness against his fingers. She moved so she could guide him inside and he groaned as the velvety softness enveloped his cock. As she moved, rocking her body, sliding up and down the length of him, he cupped her face in his hands, wanting to drink in every part of her, study every curve, line, the shape of her almond eyes, their deep, deep brown, the small button nose, the full, pink mouth. The full cheeks made her look younger than her twenty-eight years, and their rounded shape echoed the rest of her body. Her full breasts, the slim waist, the soft hips, the soft curve of her belly.

Sam covered her mouth with his, drinking her in, tasting her cool breath mingling with his.

‘Isa…’ and he was rewarded by her soft moan. She began to move faster, and he clamped his hands on her hips, willing her on, pressing himself up, deeper inside her, impaling her on his cock. She rode him harder and harder until they both came, tearing at the other, biting, kissing. As they calmed down, Isa made to move, but he stopped her. He wanted to stay inside her as long as he could, not wanting the separation. He could not bear to think of a minute without her.

He reluctantly let her go after a few minutes, his erection finally subsiding. She slid from him, kissing him as she did, and he settled her into the crook of his arm. He drew his forefinger down her cheek, traced the shape of her lips and shook his head, bemused, then grinning wickedly.

‘Well, if just buying a painting can get me laid like that…’

She swiped at him playfully, and he hugged her to him.

‘So, now we’ve done that,’ he chuckled, ‘you promised me more of your incredible art.’ He looked around the room to see if it was near.

She smiled. ‘You don’t have to do that, you know, I won’t hold you to it.’

He looked at her, his eyes serious now. ‘I meant every word. You should be exhibiting; you should have your chance. Absolutely.’

She sat up, searching his face, trying to read him. ‘You really think so?’

‘I really do.’

She looked away for a second, and shifted her body, tucking her legs underneath her. Sam could feel her hesitation, her pulling away. He guessed what she was thinking, and he sat up, placing the flat of his hand against her cheek.

 

‘Hey. I really mean this and it’s not because of…,’ and he gestured between their naked bodies, ‘…this has nothing to do with the fact you’re an incredible artist. It’s two separate things – my wanting to champion your career is business. Wanting to fuck you senseless, well, I’m only human. God, look at you.’ He drew her to him again, wanting to kiss the doubt from her eyes. When he drew back, she was smiling, her beautiful eyes sparkling.

‘Say that again.’

He kissed her. ‘I’m going to fuck,’ - kiss – ‘you’ – kiss – ‘senseless.’ And he pushed her back onto the bed.

 

Later when they were exhausted, sated, they fell asleep in each other’s arms, her head in the crook of his neck, his lips against her forehead with their limbs tangled in the others. Outside, there was a deep indigo night, the streets of the island quiet with only a slight breeze picking up off Elliott Bay that made the rigging of the harbor boats chime and sing. Neither Sam nor Isa heard the slight creak of wood as the man climbed the stairs to Isa’s apartment. He stopped halfway up, listening, watching, and glancing over to the big house to check he wasn’t observed. Satisfied, he continued up and walked around the balcony that surrounded the small apartment.

He tried the door and finding it unlocked, silently slid into the apartment. He padded quietly through the rooms until he saw them. He listened to their breathing, hearing the deep heavy breathing of the deeply asleep. He glanced at the man dismissively then his entire focus was on the girl. She was lovely, soft features, her dark lashes sweeping down onto her cheeks as she slept. Her lover cradled her, his big arms curving protectively around her tiny frame, his long fingers splayed across her belly.

The man smiled as he watched her. I love you, beautiful girl. He knew he would have to prove it to her, make her believe and make her love him back.

And when she did, he would kiss her, hold her and then, with all of that love inside him, he would kill her.

 

Sam locked his arms around Isa’s waist as they stood on the deck of the ferry boat, bending to kiss her neck, her cheek and then her temple. She leaned into his touch, sighing happily. The Bay was like glass today, no breeze, and the ferry boat slid serenely towards the city.

Sam breathed in the scent of her hair, reliving the moment he had woken with her in his arms. She had opened her eyes and without a word they had made love, slowly, languorously. His body still vibrated with the memory of being inside her, the sound of her soft cries as she came.

They’d showered together, dressed and tried to sneak past the big house, but Zoe – obviously on lookout – had dragged them into her kitchen, made them eat a huge breakfast, muttering about getting their strength back. Seb was sniggering unrepentantly as Isa kicked him under the table. Sam smothered a smile. He loved how easy this little family was to be with, with their gentle teasing of each other. Zoe and Seb seemed utterly unsurprised at his presence, and Sam could see the relief on Isa’s face at their silent acceptance.

He grinned to himself now. What an unbelievable, incredible, passionate way to spend the night. The best decision of his life was getting on this ferry boat yesterday.

 

‘What are you grinning at, oh so smugly?’ Isa had turned her head to look at him, a small smiling playing on her beautiful mouth. He kissed her before telling her. She laughed, turning her whole body to face him.

‘Yeah, good move, tiger.’ She leaned back into him, sighing happily. ‘A very good move.’

‘You sure you can’t get off work?’ he said, sliding his hand into her t-shirt to cup her breast. She half-heartedly batted him away playfully but then, as he slipped his hand under her skirt, into her panties, between her legs and began to rub, his body turned to hide what he was doing; she moaned softly.

‘I wish I could…. oh…,’ her voice trailed off as the pressure on her clit increased. Sam covered her mouth with his own to muffle her moans. His fingers kneaded and caressed, already he knew the shape of her, how her clit felt when it grew aroused, swelling like a ripe fruit under his touch. Isa began to tremble, her hands flat on his chest began to claw, her nails digging in as he felt the heat, the wetness against his fingers. Her face flushed the most beautiful pink, and she shuddered and came, silently, gasping for air, burying her face in his chest. Elation flooded through him as he held her, kissed her.

‘Isabel…’

She suddenly took his hand and pushed her way into the lounge of the boat, through the corridors to the restrooms. Ignoring the ‘Ladies only’ sign, she pushed him into a cubicle.

‘Fuck me,’ she ordered, looking him straight in the eye. A fire raged inside him as he unzipped his pants, and with one move, tore her panties from her. She jerked with the sudden pain of the cotton ripping against her skin as she expertly slid a condom onto his straining cock. He picked her up and she braced her legs against the far wall as he pushed her skirt up.

‘I’m going to fuck you so hard, little girl,’ he whispered and was rewarded by her hungry kiss as he slammed into her, his cock rock-hard and aching to pound her into the wall, possess her, screw her until she begged him to stop. She came again, too quickly for him – he was still rock hard – but turning around to face the wall, she looked back at him, her eyes alive, raising her skirt so he could see her perfect ass.

For a split second, he paused, understanding in his eyes. ‘Are you sure?’

She nodded, breathless. He parted her buttocks, marveling at the shape of them, the roundness. She leaned forward to help him but not before fumbling in her bag that she’d remembered to bring in with her and poured some of the coconut oil that she used to moisturize her hands onto her palms. Rubbing them together rapidly to melt it, she then reached behind her and slickened up his cock. With his cock better prepared now to enter her, he thrust into her ass. God, the feeling. As he fucked her, he reached around and slid his long fingers into her, his thumb flicking her clit, his fingers quickly drenched with her honey with her moans of pleasure driving him on.

Such long, sensual, tight thrusts, again, again, again, and he came explosively, trying to muffle his groans by burying his face in her hair. He could feel that her skin was hot, damp from sweat. Her hands were splayed on the wall, steadying her and he covered them with his, lacing their fingers together. She was gasping, leaning her forehead against the cool tile.

‘Isa…’ he whispered, ‘…my beautiful Isabel…’ He pulled out and turned her gently to face him. Her cheeks were pink, flushed, her eyes wide and excited. He was drawn into the deep warmth of them, so dark that he couldn’t tell where her irises ended and her pupils began.

‘I don’t know if there are any more ways I can tell you how beautiful you are…,’ he breathed ‘…but I’m going to tell you every day for the rest of my life.’

Her lips were on his then, and the kiss seemed to go on and on and on…

 

‘You have the smug air of the recently fucked.’ Cal, his legs thrown up on Sam’s desk, studied his half-brother with a mock-disgusted expression on his face. Sam grinned. He might be more than a decade younger than Sam, but Caleb Levy had all of the keen instincts and street smarts of a man twice his age. And the subtlety of a sledgehammer.

Sam pushed Cal’s bare and very filthy feet from his desk. ‘Wise ass.’

Cal slid good-naturedly out of his chair and moved around the desk.

‘Was she pretty? Tell me she was hot – I know your taste – please tell me you ignored all your instincts towards, y’know, crayzeee and found…’

‘Wanna let me answer?’ Sam shrugged out of his jacket. Cal slouched into the chair opposite him, a triumphant smile.

‘I knew it. When you didn’t come home last night, I figured you must have scored.’

‘Charming.’ Sam sat down. He felt strangely disconnected from the conversation, his mind, his body still on that ferry boat with Isa. He could still taste her kiss, feel her skin, and revel in the sensation of being inside her.

‘Earth to Samuel,’ Cal intoned, and flicked a ball of paper at his brother. ‘Jeez, that good, huh?’

 

Sam smiled apologetically. ‘Sorry, bro. Her name’s Isabel – Isa. I’m taking her to dinner tonight, and I want you to meet her.’

Cal was silent, studying his brother’s expression. ‘Okay, sounds good.’ He gave an incredulous chuckle. ‘Dude… you’re seriously telling me you met some girl in the last twenty-four hours and now you’re…’ He squinted at his brother then shook his head. ‘Whatever. I’ll be there.’

Sam tapped the desk, a wide smile on his face. ‘Good. Now let’s get some actual work done. We have a new artist to promote.’

Cal looked up, his blue eyes betraying his surprise. ‘Really?’ Then his face fell, and he sighed. ‘Wait… please tell me it’s not your new fuck buddy?’

Sam winced slightly. ‘Her name’s Isa, Cal. And yes, I know what you’re thinking, but this is an entirely different situation to, well, you know.’

Cal rubbed his hand over his dark blonde hair, his forehead creasing. ‘Yes, bro, I do know.’

Sam sighed. Cal had once been very close to Sam’s ex-wife Casey, had adored them as a couple but when Casey started to lose the plot… Sam would always regret the hurt his split with Casey had caused his younger brother. Afterward, it had seemed to color Cal’s own relationships as much as it had Sam’s.

‘Look, Cal, I’ll hold my hands up. Twenty-four hours ago, I’d be right where you are. No business and pleasure, oldest rule in the book. But Isa is…’ he shook his head, almost incredulous. ‘The connection… wait until tonight; you’ll see for yourself. She’s a completely different person to Casey.’

Cal still looked skeptical, and Sam couldn’t blame him. He changed tack. ‘Anyhow, her work is worthy of its own showcase. Nothing big, just a local show at Zoe’s gallery on Bainbridge, local press, some networking. I think if I tried to push her into more at this point, she’d balk anyway. So that’s what we need to set up.’

 

Switching to assistant mode, Cal had grabbed his notebook and was jotting down ideas, already thinking ahead of Sam’s plans. Sam loved that his brother was so reliable, so hardworking despite his laid-back manner; he trusted Cal to execute his plans to the highest quality, enjoyed the ease of communication between them. Their late father had raised an eyebrow when Sam had taken on Cal straight from college. Family shouldn’t work for family he’d warned, but Sam had followed his gut. Cal was the reason he was able to do his job as well as he did and he loved his half-brother for it. Sam leaned forward.

‘You don’t mind?’

Cal held out his hand for a fist bump, which Sam returned with a grin. ‘Consider it done. So, dinner tonight and I get to meet the hottie?’

Sam rolled his eyes. ‘Isa.’

Cal grinned and disappeared, and Sam sat back, nodding to himself. He felt changed, weirdly, a different person to the one who had gotten on that ferry yesterday. More relaxed, less driven except when it came to her. He wanted to immerse himself in her, her life, her work, her glorious body. Every part of her.

Jesus, man, get a grip. But he said it to himself with a smile. Isabel Flynn.

He had no doubt he would change any part of his life for her.

Isa skipped out at lunch and caught a cab into the city to find something to wear to dinner that evening. She darted in and out of the stores, trying to find something suitable. Sam was so elegant, his clothes so beautifully tailored that she felt she had to make an effort to look less like a scruffy artist. At least for one night, she told herself. She didn’t want him to think she’d change completely for him; she was still a tomboy at heart, always would be. Somehow she didn’t think he would mind.

She found a simple dress in one of the more alternative stores and while it wasn’t designer, the moment it slid over her body, she knew that it was the one.

Changing back into her work clothes, she suddenly felt a shift in the atmosphere of the changing room. Someone was in the room with her. She pushed the curtain aside and peeked out. The other cubicles were empty as far as she could see, only the last two at the end of the narrow corridor were out of sight.

Paranoia.

But she dressed quickly and went to pay for the dress. The weather outside had turned wet, and the sky had darkened with the threat of an oncoming storm. She dashed through the rain, darting down an alleyway and short cuts she knew by heart on her way back to the college. It was so dim that by the time she got there, that the lamps in the parking lot had sparked to life.

Isa walked to her department, along a small pathway, the college wall to one side, a thick privet hedge on the other. There were no lights down here, and the pathway was nearly a city block in length.

She heard the footsteps behind her and spun around. No-one. She squinted into the shadows, her heart thumping. Last year, there had been a series of sex attacks on young grad students and other women both at the college and in the city. In the aftermath of that, the tension and fear had yet to abate.

Isa told herself that there was nothing and the footsteps had merely been an echo of her own, but as she turned back, her pace quickened and finally, with a sigh of relief, she stepped into the building, and a rush of people surrounded her on their way to classes.

She hung the dress up on the back of her office door. Checking her phone, she found a message from Sam, telling her that he would pick her up at six. Glancing at the clock, she smiled. Four more hours. She sighed happily and finally, got back to work.

 

‘Wow.’ Isa stepped into his penthouse apartment and looked around with wide-eyed admiration. Sam smiled at her reaction; he had been expecting it but still. Her opinion was worth so much more to him. Isa slowly walked around the huge space, taking in the ceiling-to-floor windows that gave a panoramic view of the city on two sides; the expensive and stunning art on his walls; the comfortable and yet elegant furnishings.

Sam held his hand out to her, and she took it, smiling, as he led her silently into his bedroom. Above his bed, he had already hung her painting; its rich, vibrant colors bursting out, giving life to the dark, muted shades of the room’s décor. Sam watched pink spots appear on Isa’s cheeks and when she turned to him, her eyes glistening with tears, her smile radiant, proud.

‘Thank you,’ she said, and the slight catch in her voice made his stomach contract with desire. He tipped her face up to his and kissed her, his lips firm against hers, his fingers sliding into her hair. Her hands were resting gently on his chest, but as the kiss deepened, he felt her reach down, stroke his stiffening cock through his pants. He smiled against her mouth and deftly scooped her and laid her on the bed. She looked up at him with shining eyes, and he kissed her again.

‘Dinner’s at nine,’ he whispered, bending to kiss her throat, ‘So do you have any suggestions as to what we can do until then?’ He pulled her t-shirt, her skirt from her, burying his face in her belly.

She grinned and sighed happily as he slid her panties down. ‘I have a few ideas,’ she said, gasping as he moved downward, biting gently down on her clit. His fingers were spreading the lips of her sex as he probed her with his tongue. God, the taste of her… Sam watched as her sex became red, swollen, pulsed with her desire for him. Moving to kiss her mouth, he gazed down at her, a smile playing on his lips.

‘Are you mine?’ he asked softly and began very slowly to trace the hollows of her sex with the tip of his cock, teasing her, tormenting her.

Breathless, she nodded, moaning as he pushed a little way into her and withdrew. ‘Sam… please… please…’

He pushed his cock a little further in… and again, withdrew. She almost screamed in frustration, and it thrilled him to see how much she wanted him.

‘Would you like me to fuck you now, Isabel?’

‘Yes…yes…’

Without warning, he pulled her onto the floor, pressed her legs as far apart as they would go and buried his cock in her as hard as he could, forcing her hands above her head, thrusting with long, brutal strokes. It should have frightened him the way he could so easily lose control with her, hurt her, but Sam knew, in his heart that he never could, never would. They fit together so perfectly, read each other, knew each other already so well…

 

Later, after a long, luxurious, and definitely X-rated soak in his huge bathtub, they were dressed for dinner. He was ready and pouring them a drink when she appeared in the doorway. His breath caught his throat. Her silky pale pink dress skimmed her hips, swept over the rise and fall of her breasts, clung to the curve of her belly so he could see the hollow of her navel. The tiny beads on the dress threw little sparks of light up into her face, into her lovely eyes, her dark hair was pulled softly over one shoulder.

‘You’re stunning.’ He said softly, and she smiled shyly.

‘I thought I’d dress up for you,’ she walked to him, placing her hands gently on his chest, reaching up to kiss him. Then she smiled wickedly. ‘Just this once – I wouldn’t want you to get complacent.’

Sam grinned down at her. ‘Never. God, how I am supposed to concentrate on anything else when you look like that?’

Isa laughed and took his hand, tugging towards the door. ‘Come on, horn dog, your brother awaits. Let’s not keep him waiting.’

Sam let her drag him to the elevator. ‘He’d understand, believe me.’

As Sam predicted, Cal took to her straight away, and Isa was glad that the young man seemed as easy-going and as friendly as his brother. The physical difference between the two men was striking; Sam, immensely tall and muscular, dark and angular. Cal was softer looking, his dirty blond curls wild about his head, his merry eyes full of mischief. He ribbed his brother on keeping Isa a secret; then pretended he didn’t know that they’d only met the day before.

 

Isa took a slug of her drink, watching the two brothers bicker good-naturedly. One day. One day and her life had changed beyond measure. Because of him, because of Sam. It was almost unbelievable – in fact, she hardly believed it. The animal, unbearable need he had brought out in her and yet she didn’t know this man. She ignored the prickle of uncertainty, told herself; Zoe had known him for years and she trusted her opinion. Her de facto mother had raved about the man, told her and Seb stories of his incredible taste, his work ethic, his love of art and artists. Above all else, he’s an absolutely sweetheart, Zoe had told her with her eyes shining. Zoe wasn’t wrong.

She just hadn’t expected him to be so… it was a connection she had never experienced, not just sexual, not just physical but even without knowing the minutiae of his life, she felt closer to him than any other person she’d ever met.

 

She was pulled from her reverie by Cal, waving a hand in front of her face, and she smiled at the young man. It was weird; Cal was the same age as her – twenty-eight, Sam had told her – but she felt like his big sister.

‘Sorry, Cal, what was that?’

He grinned. ‘I asked if you wanted dessert.’

Isa grinned. ‘Oh hell, yes.’ Sam laughed at her eagerness and Cal nodded approvingly.

‘This one eats. Yep, I’m sold.’ He high-fived his brother, who rolled his eyes and looked at Isa apologetically, sliding a warm hand onto her thigh.

‘Please excuse my little brother, he has no filter.’

Isa felt a little sting – ‘this one’ – but she laughed it off. ‘Bet I can eat you under the table, skinny boy.’

Cal raised an eyebrow, smirking. ‘Challenge accepted.’ He raised his glass to them. ‘In any case, here’s to the both of you, and to your first show, Isa...’

‘I like him,’ she said later as they rode back up to his penthouse. Sam kissed her, her lips, her neck. He slid his hands under her dress, under the silk, and she laughed softly as his fingertips brushed her inner thighs, drifting upward to the soft mound of her sex.

 

‘I’m trying to tell you I like your brother,’ she protested. Sam grinned down at her wickedly.

‘Could you not talk about Cal when I’m trying to seduce you?’

She grinned then rested her head against his hard chest, feeling the rise and fall as he breathed, the steady beat of his heart. She closed her eyes.

‘I feel so safe with you.’ She couldn’t help the words from coming out, and the hand that was gently stroking her ass stopped.

‘Why wouldn’t you feel safe?’ He tipped her face up to his, and she was surprised by the look of concern in his eyes.

‘Oh, no no… sorry, I didn’t mean…’ she sighed. ‘I didn’t mean anything specific just that it’s strange. You feel like home to me.’ She flushed slightly but knew the truth of her words.

Sam’s face cleared, and his eyes were soft. ‘Thank you. That’s a wonderful thing to say and to hear.’

 

Later, as she lay in his arms, she stared out the huge windows to the starless night, rain constant against the glass, and thought about what she had said to him. Home.

 

Until Zoe had reached out to her, given her a real place to settle when she was eighteen, she’d never known what it was to have a home. Her father, a military surgeon, had moved his family all over the world: Germany, Japan, Diego Garcia, before settling in D.C. He had never wanted children and viewed Isa as an inconvenience – her mother, dissatisfied with her life, neglected her only child, and so Isa grew up a solitary and shy girl, with her head always buried in a book. They didn’t even care that she maintained straight A’s; was at the top of her class in English and Math as well as Art, and was a budding activist. A teacher at her high school noticed her potential, her intelligence, and took her under her wing, inspiring Isa, at sixteen, to seek legal emancipation from her parents. They didn’t fight it. Although she as relieved to be free, it didn’t stop the sting of knowing they didn’t care. Soon, she had lost all contact with them, and she was truly alone. She worked as a waitress, saved her money and move across the country, away from everything she’d ever known and built a new life. The moment she set foot in Seattle, she fell in love with the place and knew this was where she was supposed to be. The second day of college, she met Zoe and found her family.

Isa turned herself to face Sam. The hard angles of his face were softened by sleep. Isa studied his face intently, noting the curves of his brow, the pattern of scattered freckles and moles on his cheek, the color of his full lips and the slight flare of his nostrils as he breathed.

She had been right – he did feel like home as if they had been destined. She stifled a snort. Way to get dramatic. If she was honest, this apartment, the obvious trappings of his great wealth left her a little uncomfortable, starkly aware of the myriad differences between them.

‘Can’t sleep?’

She felt him kiss her forehead and smiled up at him. ‘Just taking stock.’

He nodded, understanding. ‘This has been a wild twenty-four hours.’ He searched her face. ‘Regrets?’

She smiled. ‘Not one.’

‘Good.’ He kissed her, smoothing the hair away from her face as he moved on top of her. ‘You and me, kiddo, that’s how it’s going to be from now on. And you know what?’ He smiled as she wrapped her legs around his waist, press her body to his. ‘I think this is going to be incredible.’

The next few weeks flew by in a whirl of meetings, works, organization, press. Isa was carried along by Sam, Cal and Zoe’s plans for her first show. So much so she sometimes felt left behind by them. Cal had set up interviews with local press – something that Isa found terrifying – but Sam had been there, by her side, for every one of them, guiding her and jumping in when she got overwhelmed.

Sandy, her boss, had graciously given her some time off to prepare, was as excited as anyone to see her exhibit, but Isa felt guilty about leaving him alone at such a busy time.

 

It was a Saturday. The gallery was quiet, Zoe was at the Farmer’s Market and Isa was alone for the first time in weeks, working out how to place her paintings for best effect. She had changed her mind at least three times and was now getting frustrated with herself. She walked to the little office, to the little mini-fridge and snagged herself a soda. The bell on the gallery’s entry door jingled and, sighing, she went out to greet the newcomer.

A red-headed woman, who looked in her mid-thirties and expensively dressed, nodded at her. In silence, she walked around the gallery, appraising the artwork. Isa sat behind the desk, giving the woman space. It was only when the woman looked like she was heading into the closed off room where the exhibit would be, that Isa rose from her seat.

‘I’m sorry, that room is off limits for now. We’re having a show in a week or so.’ Feeling shy and awkward; she handed the woman a flyer. The woman studied it – for what appeared to be a strangely long time then looked up at Isa. Under her stare, Isa got the impression she was being appraised like the artwork and judged. The woman smiled eventually but it didn’t reach her eyes. She had yet to speak, and Isa began to feel creeped out by this odd woman. She offered up a small smile and turned to leave her alone, but the woman grasped stopped her, her bony fingers digging into the soft flesh of Isa’s forearm.

‘Just a quick preview?’ Her voice was higher than Isa expected, almost little-girl-like. Her ice-blue eyes, rimmed with red, bored into Isa’s.

Unease curled in Isa’s stomach, and she gave a small, awkward smile.

‘I’d really prefer – ‘

‘Please. I don’t think I’ll be coming to the show; I don’t live in Seattle.’ The woman’s voice had an edge that Isa couldn’t figure out. She sighed; perhaps if she let the woman see her stuff, she’d leave quickly.

‘Okay, just a quick look.’

 

The woman walked slowly around Isa’s exhibit, taking in every painting fully. Isa could not read her reaction and the woman offered no comment.

She paused at the last one then looked at Isa. ‘They’re yours, aren’t they?’

Isa gave a tight little nod, waiting for her to continue. Her palms were sweating, and she surreptitiously wiped them on her jeans. The woman flicked her gaze up and down Isa’s body, and her mouth jerked up in an unpleasant smirk. She brushed passed Isa rudely as she left the room. Isa’s cheeks flamed with heat, with embarrassment at the slight.

She followed the woman into the main gallery, and her heart leaped when she saw Sam arriving. He grinned at her, but when he saw the woman with her, his face went hard. She had never seen him look so cold and it sent a shiver down her back. She hadn’t realized he could look so terrifying. The woman stared back at him for a second then strode out of the gallery.

Sam shook himself then came to her. ‘You okay?’

 

Isa frowned. ‘I don’t know.’

‘What happened?’ There was an edge to his voice she didn’t understand, and she shook her head, frowning up at him.

‘She wanted to see my exhibit, insisted, so I let her see. She was so rude, so, God, I don’t know.’ She studied his face. ‘Sam, do you know her?’

His expression was stone, and she caught his hesitation before he spoke. ‘No. Did she say anything?’

Isa shook her head, finding herself close to tears. Grow a thicker skin, idiot. Sam saw her distress and hugged her.

‘Hey, let’s forget about her. I’m taking to you to lunch.’

She smiled gratefully at him. ‘Let me just freshen up.’

 

In the bathroom, she washed her hands and face, avoiding her reflection in the mirror and swallowing back the wave of nausea that came over her. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths.

It wasn’t the woman’s attitude now that was upsetting her. Not the implied criticism of her work. No. It was the realization, the thought, that something was not right here.

Because she was certain, now, above anything, that Sam, her beloved, beloved Sam, had just lied to her.

 

Sam watched Isa at lunch, picking at her food, avoiding eye contact. Shit. Why had he lied to her? And why the fuck had Casey been at the gallery?

When he’d walked in and saw her there with Isa, his stomach had dropped to the floor. A thousand questions beginning with: what the hell had she told Isa?

His life with Casey was a million light years ago; the marriage itself had lasted less than a year, and he’d regretted it seconds after he said ‘I do.’ He didn’t, he hadn’t, he shouldn’t have. Casey was a master of misdirection and of manipulation. Beautiful, talented but deadly. Her frequent infidelities he overlooked, mostly to protect Cal. For all her faults, Casey had adored Cal, had supported as he went through his teenage years, especially after Cal’s mother had died so suddenly when Cal was seventeen.

Isa excused herself to use the bathroom, and Sam watched her walk away. He shouldn’t have lied, but now it was too late to take it back. Shit. His cell phone chirped: a text message. He frowned, not recognizing the number. He clicked on the message.

She’s beautiful.

 

What the hell? Who is this? He texted back. No reply. He tried calling the number. Dead. Sam gritted his teeth, deleting the message. Casey. Casey was fucking with him. Sam switched his phone off, annoyed.

‘What’s up, Grampus?’ Isa bent to kiss his cheek before she sat back down. She seemed a little brighter.

 

Sam smiled, putting his hand over Isa’s. ‘Hey. Don’t let today get to you. There’ll always be – ‘

‘I know,’ Isa interrupted him, giving him a half smile. ‘I’m just tired.’

Sam traced the dark circles under her eyes with his thumb, felt gratified when she leaned into his touch. ‘Have I been pushing you too hard? I should have asked you before this. Is this what you want? I admit, I was so swept up in us, so blown away by your work that it just seemed the natural thing to do but I feel like I’ve steamrollered you into this show and I never asked – is this what you want?’

Isa smiled, a genuine smile, and he felt relief flood through him. ‘Sam, what you’re doing for me, I could never repay. You’re making my dream become a reality.’

Sam leaned over to kiss her. ‘Isabel, you are my dream.’

 

They left the restaurant soon after that and strolled back to her place, hand-in-hand. The late Fall evening was dark and cold, the rainwater from earlier still making the island’s roads slick.

In her bedroom, he stripped her slowly, tasting every part of her as he did, the delicious, delicate saltiness of her skin, breathing in the scent of her. When they were both naked, he lay on top of her, trailing his fingers down between her breasts, tracing a pattern around her navel, feeling her belly quiver. The feel of her soft, soft skin made him weak. She reached down to cup his balls, stroke his cock until it shuddered and hardened. It seemed, tonight, their lovemaking was slower, deeper, His cock strained, needing to be inside her. She gasped as he slowly entered her, keeping his strokes, slow, long, but plunging deeper with every thrust, her nails digging into his back. They moved together as one, their eyes locked, and he smoothed the hair away from her face. She was his, and he could hardly believe it.

‘I am so in love with you,’ he said simply and tears sprung into her eyes. She clung to him, and he could feel her heart beating fast against his chest.

‘I love you, Sam,’ she whispered and pressed her lips to his. The joy felt almost unbearable.

 

As she reached orgasm, her body arched into his, her head flung back, his pace quickened, slamming his cock so deep into her she must have felt it in her belly. Sam smiled, groaning as he came, grinding his hungry mouth down on hers. Nothing else had ever, would ever feel like this, he knew with certainty, and as he continued to thrust, he forgot Casey, forgot the weird text and forgot everything except for the beautiful girl in his arms…

He watched Sam as he fucked her; his huge body covering her tiny one, and the man’s rage grew inside him, swelled, an incandescent fury. He gripped the wooden frame, trying to quell the roar of desperate betrayal rising in his chest. His eyes were locked on Isa; her beautiful body had an otherworldly glow in the lamplight of the apartment, the pale sheen of sweat on her skin as she rode Sam, her legs wrapped around his waist, her hands pinned to the bed by his and the way that her soft, pink lips opened as she cried out with pleasure. He watched her come with shuddering, delirious pleasure and he had to look away.

Bitch.

He climbed slowly back down the stairs. She would scream for him too, with pain, with disbelief, with agony as he drove his knife into her again and again. The thought of her blood pumping out, soaking his hands made his groin tighten, his breath catch in his throat. Yes. Yes. He fantasized how Isabel’s lifeless body would feel in his arms; how he would kiss her lips as they grew cold with the finality of it all, her skin, her beautiful golden skin, turning the palest blue of death. Sam’s face and his grief when he found her body.

The man smiled. Enjoy fucking her, kissing her, tasting her. She’ll be dead soon enough. He looked up at the faint glow of the window and thought about him – he – would teach them about terror, about fear, about loss. Teach them that however deep, how complete their love, fairy tales always, always ended.

 

Zoe squinted at Isa as the younger woman hefted her canvases around the room. Isa was – again – rearranging her work as a means of distracting herself. Soon, a television crew from KOMO would be here to interview her. Isa’s nervous energy was making Zoe’s head spin, and eventually she grabbed her shoulders and forcibly shoved her into a chair.

‘Cool your boots, kid.’ Zoe raised a hand, stopping Isa’s objections. She pulled up a chair and took Isa’s hands in hers. ‘You need to slow down. It’s just another interview.’

‘With a great big camera shoved in my face.’ Isa rubbed her eyes and suddenly Zoe saw how tired she was, how drained.

‘Are you alright?’

Isa nodded, smiling softly. ‘I really am, Zo. It’s just that my life has changed so much in the last couple of months; my brain needs to catch up with it.’ She looked out of the window. Early afternoon, sunny. ‘Maybe once I get this interview out of the way, I’ll head into the city, chill out at a bookstore.’

‘Sam’s not around?’

Isa shook her head. ‘He’s in Tacoma for a meeting he couldn’t get out of. He’s coming back tonight.’

Zoe smothered a grin. ‘Another sex marathon?’

Isa laughed, shocked. ‘Zoe!’

Zoe grinned, enjoying freaking her out. ‘Hey, don’t apologize. You get yours, kiddo.’

‘That sounds so wrong coming from you,’ but Isa was chuckling now. Zoe patted her hand.

‘Seriously, though, Isabel. I am so happy for you. Sam’s a wonderful man.’

Isa, grinning, nodded. ‘Yes, he is.’ Her smile was infectious, and a little smug and Zoe rolled her eyes in mock annoyance.

‘You’d better take that filthy grin off your face before the television people get here. And yes, go into the city, relax. You can take my car.’

 

Sam sat across from his ex-wife, trying not to let his anger and his utter dislike show. He had to keep his temper, had to. The small coffeehouse in Tacoma wasn’t busy and if Casey were to start antagonizing him… He shook his head.

‘What the hell do you think you were doing coming to the gallery like that? What do you want?’

Casey had obviously dressed up to meet him; her clothes were designer, and her hair and make-up perfect. Sam found himself longing for Isa’s scruffy jeans, the paint stains on her sneakers, her loose waves of hair that would stick her face when she came. Casey looked like a little china doll, all porcelain beauty, brittle and cold. She smirked now.

‘I just wanted to see the woman you’re fucking now. She’s pretty. Different from me.’ Her tone was dismissive, and Sam looked at her sharply.

‘She’s beautiful, and my sex life is none of your business anymore.’

Casey leaned forward, triumphant. ‘So you are screwing her. Figures.’

Sam drained the last of his coffee. ‘Casey, I asked you for this meeting for one purpose only. To remind you of the terms of our divorce settlement.’

Casey changed tack then. ‘What if I don’t want your money? What if I want to give us another chance?’

He laughed mirthlessly. ‘You’re delusional. I pay you a very, very generous alimony and all you have to do is stay away from me and away from my family. Are you telling me you want to risk losing your only means of income? How is the career, by the way?’

It was cruel, and he regretted it as soon as he saw Casey’s face tighten. Her chin lifted defiantly.

 

‘It’s fine.’

‘Not what I heard.’ Goddammit. What was it about Casey that made his inner asshole come out?

‘And whose fault is that?’ She hissed, small flecks of saliva spraying from her gritted teeth.

‘Possibly the alcohol, the drugs.’ Ah, screw it, she deserved every bit of his vitriol.

Sam sighed. ‘Whatever. Stay away from me, stay away from Isa. And stop sending me text messages.’

Casey scowled. ‘What text messages?’

Sam gave a tired laugh. ‘Stop it. You know very well. The text messages. One for every day for the past week. She’s beautiful. She’s sweet. Do you love her? So on and so on. What are you trying to do, freak me out? It won’t work.’

‘It wasn’t me.’

Sam snorted. ‘Whatever you say but it ends now.’

Casey hesitated then spoke so softly he could barely hear. ‘Do you?’

‘What?’

Another long silence. ‘Do you love her?’

Sam took a deep breath in. ‘Very much. Goodbye, Casey. Remember what I said.’ He stood up to go, satisfied he’d got his message across. Casey was spiteful, petty, but she wasn’t stupid. The divorce settlement paid for her entire life – hell, it would pay for five people’s lives. She wouldn’t risk that.

Sam threw some dollar bills onto the table. Before he could reach the door, she called out to him.

‘Sam?’

He turned, sighing. What now? Casey had a nasty smirk on her face.

‘She doesn’t know about me, does she?’

Sam slammed the door on the way out.

 

The interview had been less stressful than she’d imagined and spending the rest of the afternoon immersed in books had been blissful. Now, though, it was dark and Isa was hungry, tired and wanted to see Sam. She checked her watch. Five to six. She had tried calling him a little while ago, but it had gone to voicemail.

Her bag heavy with books, she walked quickly back to the parking garage. Rush hour and the city streets were jammed with traffic. She risked jaywalking across a couple of streets to get to her destination quicker – giving the finger to some jocks who cat-called her, much to their amusement.

Finally, she pressed the button for her floor and leaned against the cool metal elevator wall and tried to call Sam again. Voicemail again. She shrugged, grinning to herself. The meeting must have run long. Poor Sam. She’d make it up to him tonight. The elevator stopped, and she stepped out into the gloom of the parking garage.

She didn’t have time to scream before a hand was clamped over her mouth and she was falling…

Sam realized his phone was dead just as the ferryboat slid into the island’s harbor. When he got to the gallery, it was in darkness. Zoe caught him as he was climbing the stairs to Isa’s apartment.

‘She’s in the city. Seb has a late class. Come in; I’ll make you some dinner.’

 

Her attacker hurled Isa to the hard floor and was immediately on top of her. Stunned, she kicked and bucked, biting at the hand covering her mouth. He grabbed her head and bounced it off the concrete. She cried out and immediately the hand was back covering her mouth, her nose. Her head spun, pounding with pain, nausea rising up inside her.

Her eyes whirled around, panicked, she sought out anything, anything, that would help her, but he pressed down hard on her, grabbing each hand and kneeling on them. She couldn’t move, couldn’t fight. His face, obscured by a dark scarf, something, was in shadow.

Her heart almost stopped when she saw the knife. She saw it for the briefest moment – then it disappeared, and she felt the cold steel press against her abdomen. Her mind blank with terror, she closed her eyes.

He’s going to kill me… he’s going to kill me and I’ll never see Sam again… oh god…

The weight of his body was a crushing force, making it hard to breathe. Isa felt the tip of the knife run lightly across her skin and wondered, almost dispassionately, what was taking so long. The thought jolted her back into the present, and she opened her eyes. Her attacker gave a short laugh, and she started to struggle again, yanking her hands-free from his knees and trying to jam her fingers into his eyes. He cuffed her hard across the face. Her head swam and her eyes watered. He slammed his fist hard into her stomach, forcing the breath from her lungs. She doubled up, curling into a fetal position.

Then, just as suddenly, he was gone. Isa, still breathless, couldn’t believe it. After a few seconds, she sat up, looked around her, peering into the gloom of the parking lot. She sat there, terrified, confused, waiting for him to reappear, come back to kill her. But there was nothing but the faint sounds of the traffic in the street far below. She clambered to her feet, the pain in her stomach still raw and limped to the car. Inside, she banged down the locks and sat for a while, too shocked to do anything but pant for breath and trying to make sense of what had just happened.

 

Sam’s phone bleeped as it reached full charge and he switched it on. Two voicemails from Isa – to hear her voice after a day away was bliss. He quickly scanned through the rest of his messages, only half taking them in. He was about to call Isa when an email notification popped up. He opened it.

Isa. Rather, photos of Isa – walking in the city, getting coffee, reading in a bookstore, catching an elevator in a parking lot. Sam didn’t understand – it was clear Isa had no idea she was – oh God, no - being followed. He swallowed the nausea that rose in his throat. The sender, who’d used an obviously made up name and email address, had written one sentence.

She is beautiful.

Sam felt the crushing weight of fear bearing down on him. Someone was following her. Yes, there was no explicit threat but… he didn’t want to scare Zoe, so he made the excuse of looking for better signal out in the yard. The phone rang twice before it was picked up. Sam frowned.

‘Seb? Where are you…?’

‘Isa’s been attacked.’ Seb’s voice was shaking, stunned. The breath was knocked from Sam’s lungs.

‘Jesus. Jesus. Is she okay?’ Please. Please.

‘She’s okay. She has some cuts and bruises, but she won’t go to the ER. We’re on our way home now. She’s pretty shaken up.’

Sam’s heart was thumping. ‘God. Can I talk to her?’

He heard Seb pass the phone.

‘Sam?’

‘Sweetheart, I’m so sorry….’

‘Sam….’ His heart broke as she burst into tears, ‘Sam…. he had a knife…’

His blood ran cold.

 

 

Isa pulled the sweater tighter around herself. She couldn’t get warm despite the heat of Zoe’s kitchen. She felt strangely disconnected from the world. When they’d gotten home, Sam was apoplectic with worry and anger; Zoe was in tears and Seb was trying to comfort her. Seeing the dried blood, cuts, scratches and bruising left by her attack, Sam had insisted on calling the local cops.

After hours of questions, of fuss, she just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep. She wanted to forget this whole day. She listened to them all talk about her, at her, for a few more minutes then got up, went to the door. She offered them a wan smile.

‘I’m going to bed.’

Sam followed her in silence, but when they got into her bedroom, as she was about to climb onto the bed, he handed her his phone, open to the email he got earlier. She flicked the images silently, a ribbon of apprehension wriggling in her stomach. She looked up at Sam confused. He shook his head.

‘I don’t know who it’s from. There’s no message – no explicit threat but I’m concerned, Isa. Why are they taking photos of you, following you?’

Isa suddenly felt cold in her core. ‘I don’t know. I don’t think I’ve pissed anyone else off except maybe that weird woman at the gallery the other day. Are you sure you don’t know her?’

 

Sam didn’t look her in the eye. ‘I’m sure.’ A lump of sadness settled in her stomach. He’s lying. Her eyes filled with tears and she turned away from him, curling into a ball on the bed. She didn’t think he was cheating on her but how could she be sure? They’d barely discussed their lives before they met, wanting to live in the here and now. Maybe that had been a mistake.

She felt the bed shift as he lay down beside her and, as he slid his arms around her, she couldn’t help sinking into then, turning to face him as he pulled her closer. He stroked her hair away from her face, placed his cool fingertips against the bruise forming on her cheekbone.

‘I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to protect you,’ he whispered.

‘You can’t be there all the time. It’s okay, really. These things happen all the time. Do you know how many women are attacked, verbally, physically, every second? I would like just to forget it.’

Sam frowned. ‘You can’t just pretend it didn’t happen, not when you take the photos into consideration. I’ll get some protection arranged, someone to watch over you when I can’t.’

‘Whoa,’ Isa placed a hand on his, her eyes alarmed. Why was he acting like this? ‘I don’t think we need to go that far. Whoever attacked me… he could have raped me, killed me. But he didn’t, he just wanted to scare me. If he is the one following me, maybe it’s just some asshole who gets off on scaring women. Well, you know what? Fuck him, Sam; he doesn’t get to win. I’m not changing my life for him. No bodyguards.’

Sam said nothing and she saw the concern, the worry in his eyes and there was something else too, something she’d never seen, never expected to see – real fear. She sighed, unease settling inside of her. Hired protection? For the first time, she felt the gulf between their two worlds; to Sam, throw enough money at a problem, it would go away.

She closed her eyes, suddenly exhausted then felt his lips press gently against hers. Her body relaxed and she sunk into the kiss, needing that release.

 

‘I didn’t mean to upset you,’ he said softly, but she hushed him with her kiss, pushing him onto his back. Sam’s eyes were still worried as she pulled his shirt open.

‘Really? Are you sure you’re up to it?’

For the first time in what seemed hours, Isa smiled, unzipping his pants, reaching in to free his cock. She ran her fingertips gently up and down the long shaft, feel it shiver and stiffen.

‘You appear to be,’ she joked and was rewarded with his smile.

Soon they were naked, kissing, touching and feeling. Sam winced when he saw the burgeoning bruise on her stomach but seeing this, she bent her head and took his cock into her mouth, trying to make him forget. She ran her tongue along the pulsing vein to the tip, flicking around it, sucking on him as he grew harder, harder. She grazed his cock gently with her teeth and felt him jerk, groan with pleasure, a pearl of liquid forming at the tip. She knew he was close by the way his entire body stiffened; usually, he would pull out now and plunged himself into her, beautiful cunt but tonight, she wouldn’t let him, and he came in her mouth, gasping as his semen pumped onto her tongue.

‘God… God... Isa…’

She loved hearing him say her name, loved for once being the one in control. His penis was quivering as he pulled her up the bed and clamped his mouth onto her nipple. He was hard again when he pushed into her, gathering her to him in his huge arms as they moved together.

Everything, everyone else in the world disappeared for them, and Isa lost herself in the pleasure of being fucked by him, this man she loved with all her heart. Her vagina pulsed and ached from the size of him, his confident, virulent thrusts. She loved the way he would look her in the eye, look deep into her soul as they screwed – made love; she amended in her head. No, fuck it – screwed. She loved the carnal woman he had awakened in her - the sexy, confident, potty-mouthed woman. One who liked to fuck and be fucked, one who wasn’t afraid to tell this wonderful, astonishing man that she loved him. One who wasn’t afraid to trust.

Breathless now, she gave into the shuddering orgasm that made her entire body vibrate, her limbs weaken and her head swim deliriously. She opened her eyes to see him smiling down at her.

‘I want to spend my life with you,’ he said, kissing her gently and the love in his voice made her heart swell.

‘Sounds good to me,’ she whispered, ‘but for tonight, let’s just make the world go away…’

 

Isa considered out loud the two possibilities. She could get ready for her debut show the very next day, checking the final placement of her work or she could throw up, scream, and go sob in the corner like a little pussy. She offered these two options to a sniggering Sam as they sat at her tiny breakfast counter.

‘Now I’m not saying those are my only two choices but, y’know.’ She chomped down on a piece of toast, wrinkling her nose. It had gone cold.

Sam shook his head. ‘Actually I have a third option.’

Isa grinned wickedly. ‘We did that already.’

Sam sighed dramatically. ‘Will you get your mind out of the gutter, woman?’

But he was delighted that she seemed more like her old self. A week since the attack and there had been no more texts, no more emails, no more threats to her safety. He thought he was probably more relieved than she was. She’d persuaded him not to hire protection and he’d not broken his promise – as such. Just beefed up his existing security – he reasoned that didn’t count.

Looking at her now, her face glowing, excitement in her eyes despite her protestation of nerves, she had never looked more beautiful to him, more alive.

‘What’s your third boring non-sex option then?’

He blinked. ‘Oh yeah. You know how tomorrow the critics are going to arrive a little earlier?’

She nodded, not really listening and he smiled to himself.

‘Thing is they’re not coming, not tomorrow.’

She shrugged, still pulling her toast to pieces and slathering them with peanut butter. ‘Okay.’

‘They’re coming in an hour.’ Then he waited.

Isa stopped chewing and stared at him. ‘You’re kidding.’

He very calmly took a sip of his coffee. ‘Nope.’

He’d never seen anyone move so fast.

 

An hour later, to his surprise, Isa was almost serene, chatting happily with the local art critics and dealers that Sam had invited.

He had been right – well, he and Zoe. They’d planned the surprise viewing so that Isa didn’t have time to talk herself into a state of nervous introversion that made her unable to talk to anyone. The adrenaline that coursed through her after he told about the surprise viewing had made her outgoing, receptive. He could tell the critics were utterly charmed by her, whatever their views on her work. Cal and Seb were keeping their drinks refreshed and passing around food. Keep ‘em drunk and fed always worked, in his book.

He managed to steal her away for a few moments, sliding his arms around her waist and pulling her into a darkened corner. She grinned up at him, and he bent his head, pressing his lips against hers.

‘Am I forgiven?’ He kissed her again and felt her laugh.

‘I’ll think about it. Seems to be going well, huh?’

‘Never in any doubt.’

She glanced back into the viewing room. ‘You know all these people?’

‘Mostly. Some are newbies. How do you feel?’

She nodded. ‘Good, actually. Hopeful.’

He slid his hands into her hair on either side of her face. ‘I love you, you know?’

She nodded and kissed him. ‘I do know. As I love you. Thank you for this, for all of it.’

He smiled. ‘You’re welcome. Now get back in there and hustle.’

She walked past him, back the milling crowd and he breathed in her scent, the perfume she left in her wake. It was thrilling being here, so near to her and hearing her talk in that gentle voice. She looked beautiful too, a simple white dress which showed off the rich gold of her skin.

See me.

She glanced in his direction as if he’d spoken out loud and their eyes met. She nodded, smiling. I love you. I love you.

The jerk in his groin was almost painful. That smile. He almost couldn’t wait for that smile to turn to pain, to understanding she was dying and he was the one killing her. He imagined going to her now, in front of all these people, in front of her bastard lover, and stabbing her, plunging his knife into her belly, watching the blood bloom across the white dress. Hearing people scream their horror. To see her confusion as she bled to death.

Soon, my darling. Soon.

 

It was after midnight before the last of the critics had faded away. Isa and Sam banished Zoe to bed, while Cal bore Seb off to the city, already best friends. Isa was gathering up empty glasses, plates, discarded flyers and information leaflets. Finally, Sam bore her up to her apartment, snagging the last bottle of champagne. Inside, he shook the bottle and nodded at her.

‘Take your clothes off.’

She dropped the dress to the floor, grinning, guessing his plan. He popped the cork and sprayed her entire body with the champagne. Tugging his own clothes off, he swept a furiously giggling and soaking wet Isa into bed and proceeded to lick every drop from her skin. She moaned and writhed under his touch, completely at his mercy.

It was three forty-five a.m. before they finally broke apart. Isa reluctantly rolled from the bed. ‘Must pee,’ she grinned, blowing him a kiss on the way to the bathroom. Sam watched her with pleasure, the way her hips swayed as she walked, her hair clouding around her. Goddess. He couldn’t imagine life without her now. Sam sighed and got up, tugging his jeans on.

‘Coffee?’ he called, as he walked into the tiny kitchen.

‘Nah, I’m good, thanks.’

Sam dumped some instant coffee into a mug and put the kettle on the gas. He glanced out at the night – there was no moon tonight, and he could barely make out the shape of Zoe’s house. Then he frowned. Through the windows of the darkened gallery he could see a small glow – was someone there?

Isa, looking adorably ruffled in his t-shirt and pair of old paint-spattered pajama pants, batted his ass as she appeared from the bathroom, pulling a cold bottle of water from the refrigerator. ‘Why the face?’ She asked, draining half the liquid in one gulp, and pulled herself up onto the counter top.

Sam nodded towards the gallery. ‘Did we leave some lights on?

Isa glanced out of the window. Don’t think so. I’ll go check.'

She yanked open the door and stopped, turning to look at him with wide, frightened eyes. ‘Sam…’

 

He immediately smelled it too: smoke. In an instant they were racing down the stairs, banging on Zoe’s door to wake her and then into the back door of the gallery they ran. They were assailed by the choking smoke, the raging heat. Isa darted towards the paintings that she could see and started to lift them from the walls, but Sam went towards the backroom, his hand covering his mouth and nose, to where Isa’s exhibit was. When he got there, the heat increased, the flames crawling across the walls.

Sam could see it was all gone. Every one of her paintings, every sketch. A bunch of paint stripper soaked rags was piled up beneath the largest of them. This was deliberate.

 

‘Sam!’

Isa was beckoning him frantically and together they escaped the inferno. Zoe, her face drawn and shocked, was already out on the street as they joined her, sucking in the fresh air, coughing, choking. Sam saw Isa was trembling and pulled her to him.

‘I’m sorry, baby, it’s all gone, I’m so sorry.’

Isa, her dark eyes wide and frightened shook her head. ‘It doesn’t matter, Sam, it doesn’t matter. I just….’ She put a hand to her forehead, and he saw tears pouring down her face. He pulled her into his arms. With his free hand, he called the emergency services.

Zoe was trying to console Isa, but she was sobbing now. ‘The house… your house… I don’t know why….’ Suddenly Sam saw how lost she looked, how devastated. He understood that she didn’t care about her own work; all she cared was that now, it looked like Zoe had lost her livelihood, possibly her home. It made him love her even more.

Zoe tugged at his arm. ‘Sam… Sam, what happened?’

He shook his head, not knowing what to tell her. The fire was growing more intense. Sam coughed again, spitting smoke filled saliva onto the street. His cell phone bleeped. Another photo of Isa taken about ten seconds ago.

Will you miss her when she’s dead?

Sam’s body went cold. He spun around and scanned the street for anyone suspicious for Casey. In the distance, he could hear sirens, but now, for some reason he couldn’t fathom, Isa was walking towards the front of the gallery, her forehead creased with confusion. He saw her bend to pick up something at the same time as a burst of fire shot towards the front door. Sam hurtled towards her, pulling her away just as the window exploded above them. The shockwave sent them both tumbling across the asphalt. Neighbors had started to gather, and a couple of them rushed to help them to their feet.

Sam saw blood trickling down Isa’s head from a nasty gash at her hairline but as he reached for her, she pushed something into his hands, and he was shocked at the terror in her eyes. He looked down at the canvas in his hands. It took him a second to understand, to comprehend what had frightened her so much.

 

He thought at first that the small canvas was one she’d managed to save. The next moment, he changed his mind; it wasn’t her style, not one of her joyful, vibrantly colored abstracts. It was a cartoon, stark colors of black, white and red in the style of Japanese Manga. When he saw it, his stomach dropped, and the breath knocked from his lungs.

It showed a woman, a beautiful woman, long brown hair, huge soft brown eyes – quite obviously Isa - dead, lying a pool of blood. Murdered. The hilt of an over-sized knife protruded from her belly, the white dress she was wearing soaked in her blood. The expression on her lovely dead face was one of agonized terror. Next to the women, a dark haired man had sunk to his knees beside her, weeping. Even though the picture showed him only from back, Sam knew it was meant to be him. Jesus.

Sam looked up into the frightened eyes of the women he loved.

‘Still think protection is a bad idea?’ Isa whirled away from him, sharply bent double and threw up.

Fire trucks came screaming onto the street then, but Sam could only hear, only feel, the heavy thumping of his heart as he gazed at Isa, his world, his life, and felt the old terror return, the terror he’d long since buried.

He was going to lose her. Someone wanted to take Isa from him. Someone wanted to kill her.

And now, in that this moment, he didn’t have any clue how to stop them…

 

Isabel Flynn stared out at the pale gold of dawn creeping over the island. The stark, marshal décor of the police station was giving her a headache; her eyes felt loaded with grit. She could not get warm despite Sam’s arms being around her, a scratchy blanket covering her. She could still taste the acrid smoke of the fire and feel the ashy dirt on her skin.

The detective on the other side of the desk, Det. Halsey was scribbling down notes. He was kind and empathetic but professional. In front of him, the canvas she’d found outside the gallery.

Her eyes kept sliding to it, disbelieving it was, that it was meant to be her. Her murder.

Isa swallowed down a wave of nausea, slid a hand over her belly to quell the fear. She closed her eyes but kept imagining that knife was in her now, tearing through her, and a stabbing pain shot through her. Jesus.

‘Sweetheart, are you okay?’ She felt Sam’s lips at her temple. She nodded and opened her eyes. Det. Halsey smiled kindly.

‘Just a few more questions, Miss Flynn. Then you can go home. We have to ask; is there anyone you know that may want to harm you? An ex-boyfriend? Someone at work?’

She shook her head. ‘I really don’t.’

‘Any bad break-ups?’

She hesitated. ‘One. His name is Karl Dudek. We broke up a year ago.’

‘What happened?’

Isa sighed. God, she really didn’t want to talk about this. ‘He hit me. Once but that was enough. He was drunk and lashed out. It was only that time.’ She felt bad, suddenly. Karl had been the wrong person for her, had not taken it well when she’d told him she was leaving but was horrified about what he had done instantly, begging her for forgiveness. ‘I don’t think he would do this.’

‘We’ll need his address. What does he do?’

She hesitated and then her shoulders slumped. ‘He’s a cartoonist.’ She saw Sam and the detective exchanged loaded glances. ‘Look, I… Karl wouldn’t do this. We were over; he knew that, he accepted that.’

‘He could be jealous of the attention your work is receiving, jealous of your relationship with Mr. Levy.’

‘No… I….’

 

‘Isa, we have to investigate every possibility.’ Sam’s voice was low, racked with pain and it made tears spring into her eyes. ‘Someone is threatening to kill you.’

Her eyes went immediately back to the painting. It couldn’t be doubted the dead woman was meant to be her. The stab wounds were horrific, so many of them, a frenzied attack. Someone wanted to do that to her. Isa swallowed, closed her eyes to shut it out, leaning into Sam.

‘Okay… okay…’

 

Sam took her home soon after that. As they passed the smoking remains of the gallery, Isa gave a small, exhausted moan and Sam swept her up into his arms and carried her up the stairs to her apartment. He double-locked the door behind them and followed her into the bedroom. Isa curled up on the bed, and he lay down beside her, curving his body around hers. He stroked the hair from her eyes. ‘You should try to sleep, beautiful.’

She stared back at him with pain-filled eyes. ‘My body says it wants to; my brain won’t let me.’

His emotions were swirling, nausea, fear. He kissed her dry lips. ‘I can distract you if you like.’ He was partly joking, trying to lift the mood, but she suddenly wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him fiercely.

‘Please, Sam… yes, please…’

He undressed her slowly, kissing every part of her body as he did. She tasted of smoke, of salt skin, of Isa, and as he drew his fingertips gently down her body, he again wondered how anyone could even dream of hurting her.

‘If there was a way,’ he murmured, his lips against hers, ‘I could express how much you mean to me, how much I love you, I would do it…’

Tears dropped down her cheeks, and she smiled for the first time in hours. ‘Show me; that’s all you need to do. I love you, Samuel Levy. You are my world, my life.’

He kissed her then, his mouth rough on hers, his hand sliding between her legs, his fingers finding her slick, wet opening, slipping inside. She moaned and ground herself against his hand, her own hands on his cock, caressing his balls, sliding up and down his shaft as it stiffened. He ached to be inside her.

‘I’m yours, Sam,’ she whispered, ‘tell me what you want to me to do.’

He smiled down at her. Christ, she was glorious. ‘Spread your thighs.’

She did so, opening her legs wide and he pushed them further apart, lifting her to slide a pillow under her hips. His hands kneaded the soft flesh of her inner thighs as he gazed down at her, her dark hair framing her lovely, flushed pink face, her dark eyes, tired but soft. His cock was straining, but he held off, touching every part of her, her breasts, the tiny nubs of her nipples hard, the aureoles pink and quivering at his touch. The line down the center of her stomach, the mound of soft skin that curved down into the hollow of her navel. He traced a pattern around it, knowing how it turned her on and was rewarded by her sharp intake of breath.

‘You’re so beautiful, sweetheart, so, so lovely.’

 

Her sex had swelled, ripe and soft as a peach under his caress and now, with her hands still stroking his cock, she guided him into her, moaning softly. As he moved, driving himself as deep into her as possible, she kept his gaze, urging him on. He pressed her legs apart as far as they would go, watching his cock slide in and out of her, feeling her muscles contract around it, the delicious wetness of her. Exhaustion and distress had made them both heady and abandoned, and as their excitement grew, he began to slam into her, encouraged by her. He maneuvered so he could kiss her as they both neared climax. She took his face in her hands.

‘This…’ she moaned as he drove himself harder onto her, ‘this is all that matters. You and I… this is the only thing that’s real… oh… God…’

Her fingers dug into his buttocks as she came, clamping her hands on them, willing him deeper, deeper. He felt the hot rush of her climax envelop his cock as he felt himself explode inside of her. They both shuddered and collapsed, but he didn’t want to stop, wanted to possess her in every way. As she dragged air into her lungs, he kissed her throat, her neck, took the soft lobe of her ear into his mouth.

‘You and me.’ He whispered, finding her lips with his.

‘Forever,’ she replied, and Sam knew then, without a doubt, that she was his.

 

Seb Marshall opened one eye and groaned. He heard a chuckle from the other side of the suite and pulled himself into a sitting position. However luxurious the Levy’s penthouse was, the sofa wasn’t meant for a guy Seb’s height, and he rolled his shoulders to ease the stiffness. Big mistake. Nausea and pain ripped through his entire body, and he dropped his head into his hands.

‘Jesus…’

He felt a cold glass being shoved into his hand. ‘Drink this; you’ll feel better.’ Cal Levy handed him a glass with a vomit-colored liquid in it. Seb looked at it dubiously, then glanced up at his friend. Cal grinned.

‘Best you don’t know what’s in it.’

Seb sighed then as his hangover sent a shrieking pain through his head, he downed the mixture in one. He gagged, and Cal laughed.

‘Give it time; I promise it works.’ He indicated a breakfast tray. ‘You should eat. Bit of a lightweight then?’

Seb laughed with him. ‘I don’t usually drink, it’s true, but jeez. I didn’t think I would be affected as much as that. What were we drinking in the last place we went to?’

‘Tequila slammers.’

Seb studied his new friend. ‘How come you don’t look as bad as me?’

Cal grinned, tapping his abdomen. ‘Iron stomach. Did you enjoy it though?’

‘Hell yes, haven’t kicked back like that in quite a while. Mom and Isa are kinda homebodies – you’ve probably noticed. Most of my friends are, now I think about it. God, we’re just sad geeks.’ Seb gathered his dreads up, tied them back with a band he had on his wrist. ‘Talking of Isa, how good was that preview? So proud of her.’

Cal got up, grabbed the t.v. remote. ‘Fantastic. They loved her too, might be something about it on KOMO.’

He flicked through the channels. Seb, feeling the hangover cure start to kick in, wandered over to the breakfast tray and started to scarf down pancakes.

‘Shit.’

Seb looked up at Cal’s exclamation, followed his gaze to the t.v. For a second he couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing. Cal looked over at him, his eyes confused and alarmed. Finally, Seb managed to choke out ‘That’s my mom’s gallery….’

In less than a minute, they were in the elevator.

 

Isa glanced out of the window at the journalists milling about in front of the ruined gallery. She sighed, and Sam came up behind her, sliding his arms around her waist.

‘Slow news day.’

Sam kissed her neck. ‘Beautiful artist loses collection to arson on the eve of grand opening? I’d say that was pretty huge news.’

Isa shrugged. ‘No biggie.’

Sam sighed and tugged her around to face him. Her eyes were heavy, lilac shadows beneath them, her usually glowing skin sallow and drawn. He ran his thumbs gently over her cheeks. He knew she hadn’t slept – because neither had he. Someone wanted to kill Isa. Kill her. Sam kept saying it over and over in his head, but he still couldn’t understand it. Why? He could only figure it must be jealousy, could only suspect one person: Casey. But would Casey have honestly gone this far? Would she have the imagination, the moxie to blatantly threaten Isa’s life? The horrific, sickening cartoon of Isa’s murder wouldn’t leave his mind.

‘Hey.’ Isa’s voice broke through his thoughts, and he tried to smile down at her.

‘Stop thinking about it,’ she ran her hands over his head, looping her fingers gently through the closely cropped curls, ‘Don’t let whoever it was, whatever he or she was trying to do, don’t let them win.’ He saw a new defiance in her eyes, an anger he didn’t recognize. ‘Fuck them, Sam. I won’t be cowed by this son-of-a-bitch.’

He frowned. ‘We can’t just brush this under the carpet, Isabel; someone threatened your life.’

Isa’s jaw clenched. ‘I’m sure it’s just someone with a sick sense of humor, maybe someone pissed that a nobody like me was getting all that attention. Or some fucker who gets off on trying to scare women.’

‘People don’t usually threaten to kill someone because of that,’ Sam said bleakly.

‘I’m much more worried about Zoe,’ Isa continued, ignoring his words. ‘The gallery is her retirement plan… was her retirement plan.’

Sam ran his hand down her back. ‘You don’t need to worry; Zoe doesn’t need to worry. I’ve already put out feelers for new premises. It’s time Zoe expanded anyway.’

‘She won’t take charity,’ Isa smiled gratefully, but her eyes were worried. ‘You’ll have to talk to her, frame it so she doesn’t think it’s a handout.’

He smiled, pulling her to him. ‘An investment, then.’ He felt her nod against his chest, and he pressed his lips down onto the top of her head. ‘Isa. We have to talk about the threats to your life.’

She was silent for a moment, then looked up at him. ‘Do you really take them seriously?’

‘I do.’ The blood, the knife, her ruined body in that cartoon. No. No.

Isa pulled him over to the couch. ‘Well, look. The police know about it so…’ Her voice trailed off as she saw the strain that was evident on his face. ‘Sam, I’ll be fine. Please, stop worrying. If we let this ruin…’ She stopped and leaned over, pressing her lips against his.

He tried to smile. ‘I cannot bear the thought of something happening to you.’

She stroked his face. ‘Nothing’s going to happen to me. It’s just some douchebag trying to harass us.’

‘How can you be so sure?’

She kissed him again. ‘If I thought for a second I was in actual harm’s way, I’d be kicking someone’s ass.’

Sam gave her a genuine grin then. ‘I’d like to see that. Perhaps I could watch, throw in some Jell-O?’ He pulled her onto his lap.

‘Pervert,’ she kissed him, and he laughed, tightening his arms around her, burying his face in her hair.

‘I’m going to sexually harass you right now,’ he murmured and swiftly maneuvered her onto the floor, his fingers undoing her jeans, tugging them down.

 

She wriggled with pleasure. ‘Like I said, pervert… oh God…’ His fingers were stroking her clit, and she sighed, closing her eyes. His lips were against the soft rise of her belly as he continued to stroke her, his tongue tracing patterns on her skin. Maybe she was right. It was these moments that were real when it was just the two of them, skin on skin.

Isa moaned as his lips trailed up her body until finally, they found hers, their tongues weaving and caressing the others. Her nipples were hard against his chest, her fingers tangled in his hair. He slid his hand between her thighs, found her already wet.

‘I want you inside me… now.’ she gasped and, grinning, Sam thrust her legs apart, freed his cock from his pants and plunged into her, brutal, masterful strokes, making her limbs quiver and tremble. His kiss, however, was tender; he swept her damp hair from her face as he moved above her with his eyes never leaving hers.

‘I love you, Isabel Flynn,’ and she smiled so beautifully he wanted to scream it again and again.

They came together, sweating and clinging to each other. After he carried Isa back to bed, curled up with her as exhausted, she fell asleep in his arms.

Left alone with his thoughts, Sam chewed over the possibilities. He’d hire protection, move her into his apartment in the city. He’d hire private detectives, find out where Casey had been the night before and ask Isa about ex-boyfriends. He didn’t want to scare Isa or her family, but he knew he could rely on Cal to help him out. If Isa knew she was being watched by bodyguards… he knew better than to invade her much-loved privacy, even if it was to protect her. They’d have to be discrete. No-one would get to her if he could help it.

No-one would take her away from him.

 

Zoe, her kind face strained, shook her head. ‘No. No way.’

A week after the fire, they were in her kitchen, Zoe was baking, cookies, cakes, comfort food. Isa recognized she had gone into what Isa and Seb called her 911 mode: feeling powerless to turn back time, she made sure that there was plenty of food for everyone, a sense of home, of security. It was one of the many reasons that Isa loved Zoe. The kitchen, which had smelled of the smoke from the fire, was now filled with wonderful scents, spices, fruits, fresh bread. Isa grinned to herself; she knew Zoe was worried about her because she was letting Isa steal cookie dough from the bowl without arguing or batting her hand with a spatula.

Now, though, the older woman had a frown plastered on her face as she stared at her young charge.

‘I won’t take charity, Isabel. You should know better than to ask me that.’

Isa put a hand on her arm. ‘It’s an investment, not charity, Zo. Sam’s offering to go into business with you.’

Zoe wasn’t convinced. ‘Usually going into business means a fifty-fifty split. Sam’s offering to give me the money, not loan it. I know he’s family but still.’

Isa flushed a little. ‘Family?’

Zoe smiled at her. ‘He might as well be. I’m sure he will be at some point. Don’t you?’

Isa smiled shyly and changed the subject. ‘So, talk to him. You need something, Zo; I know you. You’ll be bored as hell at home. Let Sam finance a new gallery.’

‘I can’t take his money, Isa. I have my pride.’ She looked out of the window to the remains of the adjoining gallery. ‘I consider myself lucky that the fire didn’t damage the house or your place. The insurance will give me enough to set up another place in town.’

‘Sam wants to be involved, though, Zo. He wants to finance a bigger place, finally give you the gallery you deserve, the prestige you deserve.’

‘That’s my point – give. Sam – and you – are not responsible for what happened.’

Isa sighed and got up to get a glass of water. She could feel Zoe watching her, curious. She and Sam had decided not to show nor tell Zoe about the death threat, the hideous cartoon. The fewer people who were affected by that particular horror, the better. A knife in the belly. Isa felt a wave of nausea and swallowed hard, downing the water in one. Zoe’s eyes narrowed.

 

‘You got anything else to tell me, Isabel?’

It was hard to hide things from Zoe, but Isa shrugged. ‘Just some nutball. I’m just sorry he had to take it out on your gallery.’

‘He?’

Isa shook her head. ‘He or she. I don’t know who would do this, but the police can handle that. At least, the insurance people won’t be able to argue.’

Zoe rolled her eyes and sat back in her chair. ‘That’s what you’re worried about? What about your work?’

Isa shrugged. ‘It really doesn’t matter. I’m sad that I lost my pieces because I enjoyed doing them but as for the actual exhibiting of them, well. It was nice while it lasted but you know me, Zo, I never wanted that life, that attention.’

‘You seemed okay with it last night.’

Isa smiled. ‘Pure adrenalin. But I think, maybe, this was a sign. I like my job at the college, Zo, even if Sandy makes me crazy most of the time. I have no need to be well-known. I just caught up with Sam’s plans – I’m pretty sure he was only doing it because he loves me anyway.’

Zoe grinned at that. ‘I like hearing you talk like that. That man is crazy about you; it’s written all over his face. Oh, to have a man look at me like Sam looks at you.’ She clutched dramatically at her chest. ‘Young love…’

She said it with such drama that Isa broke into giggles and got up to hug her. ‘He must be crazy. Look, will you just think about letting Sam invest? I feel guilty enough about the fire, please just consider it.’

 

He stayed away from the gallery in the days that followed the fire. There was taking risks and then there was taking dumb risks. He couldn’t be seen to be anywhere near her. It had been such a thrill to see them, the night of the fire, so terrified, so distraught. He’d seen Isa spot the canvas with the cartoon and had sent the text to Sam straight away. Full impact. He grinned as he remembered their horror, their fear. The cartoon was so graphic, so bloody that they could not be in any doubt of his intentions.

He closed his eyes now, standing in his shower, tugging on his junk, thinking about killing her. She was such a small woman that he would be able to overpower her easily, but he wanted to kill her slowly, painfully, savor her screams and see the agony on that beautiful face as he murdered her.

But first… he would enjoy tormenting them, driving Sam crazy with fear. He’d terrorize the whole family, bring them to their knees before he took Isa’s life. He closed his eyes as he neared orgasm, imaging plunging his knife into her soft belly, hearing that first gasp of agony, of shock. Soon, Isabel Flynn would be dead, and Samuel Levy would be destroyed. That would be his crowning moment, his reward for all that had gone before.

As he jerked off, his hand moving faster and faster, he came as he imagined what her last breath would sound like, his climax making him sob with desire and frustration and bloodlust.

 

Sam sat in the small bar with Seb and Cal, distracted, thinking about Isa alone on the island. Well, not alone, Zoe was there but if someone broke in if someone had a knife…

‘Hey, old man. Stop being a party pooper.’ Cal flicked water at his older brother, who smiled apologetically. Seb and Cal – who had become fast friends – had dragged him out to the bar on Isa’s insistence. He had hardly left her side since the fire, but as much as she loved him, he got the feeling his constant presence was…not irritating as such but…

‘Nope, he’s gone again.’

‘Yep. What a loser.’

‘I think he’s in a trance.’

‘Let’s see if we can get him to do stuff.’

‘Like what?’

‘Hit on the waitress.’

‘Would never work. He’s too snatch-ma-tized.’

‘Dude, that’s my sister.’

‘Sorry.’

Sam raised his eyebrows. ‘I’m not deaf, you fools.’

Cal leaned over to him. ‘Welcome back.’ He studied his brother’s eyes. ‘What’s up with you? You’ve been like this since the fire.’

They hadn’t told Seb or Cal about the threats, but now he just wanted to talk it out with someone. Isa was refusing to discuss it at all, in his opinion, she was burying her head in the sand. He looked at Seb and Cal now; his brother; her brother. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt that they would feel the same as him. It could only help, the extra vigilance.

 

‘It’s this…and you cannot tell Zoe, under any circumstances.’

Seb grinned. ‘Jesus, you haven’t gotten my sister preggo have you?’

Cal chuckled, but Sam shook his head, unsmiling.

‘No. Someone is trying to kill her.’

It was almost comical the way the two younger men’s faces changed.

There was a long silence. Seb paled, his skin going a dark gray; Cal stared at Sam in disbelief.

‘If this is a joke…’

‘It’s not. The fire was the first time I knew it was real, that he or she meant to hurt Isa. Whoever it was left a message.’

He pulled his phone and showed them a photo he’d taken of the canvas. Seb blanched, and Cal looked at it with horror.

‘Jesus…’

Seb suddenly got up, pushed his chair back and sped to the restrooms. Sam followed him. Seb was throwing up, great heaving sobs coming from him. Sam patted his back awkwardly as Cal pushed his way in and stood to watch them with frightened eyes. Seb wiped his eyes and, moving to the basins, splashed water on his face.

‘Sorry,’ he smiled ruefully at the brothers. ‘It was just… Jesus… who the fuck would draw something like that? I hope you showed it to the police.’

‘Of course. It’s not just that. At the same time, I got a text message, a photo of Isa taken seconds before, asking me…’ He felt himself choke, coughed, glanced at Seb’s pale face, ‘…asking me if I’ll miss her when she’s dead.’

Seb dropped his head into his hand and moaned. Sam looked at his silent younger brother, who was stone-faced, shoulders rigid with anger. ‘Say something.’

Cal shook his head. ‘I don’t get it… who…?’ Sam saw the light of realization come into his eyes. ‘You don’t think…?’

Sam shook his head, cutting him off. Seb was heaving over the toilet bowl again, but Sam still didn’t want Cal to say her name out loud, didn’t want the questions that he knew would come at the mention of her name.

Casey.

 

Later, when Seb had gone back to the island, Sam and Cal went back to the penthouse.

Sam poured large glasses of scotch for him and his brother. Cal studied him.

‘So, Casey. It could be her; she’s vindictive, spiteful enough. Stupid enough to get herself arrested for harassment.’

Sam nodded. ‘It is her kind of crazy.’

‘Did you tell the police that?’

Sam shook his head and sat down sighing. ‘I should have… it’s just… I haven’t told Isa about Casey.’

Cal frowned not understanding. ‘So? Tell her now.’

‘I can’t. Shit, I messed up, Cal. Casey came to the gallery a few days before the fire, was basically rude as hell to Isa. I got there as she was leaving, but neither of us said anything. When she left, Isa was upset, and I didn’t want to make it worse by telling her ‘Yeah, hey that was my ex-wife whom I’ve never mentioned before.’ Stupid, stupid, stupid. Now, telling her would just open up a whole mess of crap. She would doubt her trust in me. I honestly… couldn’t bear that.’

He drained his scotch, reached for the bottle, but Cal deftly whisked it away.

‘No more. Getting wrecked isn’t going to help any of us. Yeah, you’re right, it was stupid. Even if you don’t tell Isa who Casey is, the police need to check her out. Are there any other messages?’

Sam showed him the strange messages he’d received. Since the fire, there had been only two more: Her blood on my hands… soon and How many times should I stab her?

Cal swore. ‘Sick motherfucker.’ He glanced up at Sam. ‘I gotta say. Although I think Casey is capable of sending these, I doubt she’d ever have the guts to actual hurt Isa. It could be just talk.’

Something lifted in Sam’s heart then, just a little hope. He nodded. ‘You might be right. I did go see her a couple of days ago…’ – Casey’s eyebrows shot up then, and Sam put up his hands – ‘Just to warn her off. I asked her about the texts, and she denied it, but who knows? We know she’s a masterful liar.’

‘Yeah, she is. Listen, for some reason; I believe her. These texts, the cartoon… this, is something…’ He trailed off, shooting Sam a loaded glance.

The hope vanished. ‘What?’

 

Cal blew out his cheeks. ‘This is a really intimate way of killing someone, you know? This isn’t the way you’d murder a rival; this is the way you’d kill someone you were obsessed with. Stabbing someone is personal. Bro, I’m sorry but I think this is a man. Someone who wants Isa, sexually - the old ‘if he can’t have her…’ thing. He could have been following her for years, and when you two started seeing each other, he flipped.’

Sam felt the blood drain from his face. ‘Fuck.’ Cal watched him in silence then stood, coming to put a hand on his shoulder.

‘Look, I know how hard this must be for you especially after …’

‘Don’t say it. This is not the same as do not say it.’

Cal chewed on his lip. ‘The thing is, Sam, we have all the resources we need to keep her safe in our little circle. It’s not like we can’t hire a fleet of bodyguards, yeah, I know,’ he said when he saw Sam start to protest. ‘But until we find whoever it is, she’ll have to suck it up. You’re with her all the time, practically, and Seb and I can take shifts of just hanging out with her. We’ll talk to her employers...’ He broke off as Sam put up his hands.

‘Yeah, okay. You’re right; we have to be proactive.’

Cal smiled. ‘That’s more like it. We’ll catch this fuck, Sammy. Whatever he’s planning.’

Sam nodded once. ‘He’s not going to get near her.’ He stood, started to pull his jacket on, ready to leave. ‘I need to get to her now.’ As he pulled open the door, he turned, studied his brother, his face all hard angles and fury.

Cal nodded at him. ‘What are you going to do?’

Sam’s eyes were ice cold. ‘If he touches her, he’ll know the full force of my revenge, Cal. If he comes within fifty feet of her, he’s a dead man.’

 

Isa had fallen asleep on the couch by the time he got to the apartment. She had pulled the comforter up to her chin. Sam crouched down, watched her for a few moments. Her skin, that gorgeous dark honey color, the slight flush of her cheeks, was more beautiful than any piece of art he’d ever seen. His heart pounded with the ferocity of his love. He gently pressed his lips to her skin, felt her stir, sleepily search for his lips with hers. He felt her smile as they kissed.

‘Hey, you.’ Her voice was soft. ‘I missed you. Welcome home.’

Her words sent his spirit soaring. Home. She was his home now. ‘You look cute when you’re half asleep.’

She chuckled, stroking his face. ‘How was your day?’

He shrugged, slipping his hand under the comforter and around her waist. Sleep had made her floppy and pliable, and he easily pulled her into his arms. ‘Better now I’m with you.’

He kissed her, lingering, his tongue exploring her mouth, his fingers knotting in her hair. Isa sighed happily as he lay her on the carpet, pushing her t-shirt up so he could rest his head on her bare belly. He felt her stroke his hair, looping her tiny fingers through the tight, short curls of it. He pressed his lips against her skin, tracing a pattern with the tip of his tongue up and down her abdomen. His fingers went to the tie of her wrap-around skirt, pulling them open and sliding the fabric from her.

‘Sam…’ She wanted him to kiss her and he moved so he could look into her eyes as he did. She smiled up at him, unbuttoning his shirt, running her hands over his bare chest.

‘How have I not known you my whole life?’ She kissed him. ‘I’ve never felt this close to anyone before… anyone…’

‘I know,’ he said softly, as he pulled her shirt gently over her head, kissing her breasts. ‘This is almost unbelievable.’

They both laughed, still peeling each other’s clothes off. She grinned up at him as he pressed his body to hers. ‘Almost…’

She pushed him onto his back and moved down his body, taking his cock into her mouth. Sam drew in a deep breath as she tasted him, sucked him and flicked her tongue around the sensitive tip.

‘God… Isa…’ The feel of her mouth on him, her warm, wet, soft mouth was like a drug, and as he neared his peak, his chest ached with love for her.

‘I want to come on your belly,’ he gasped and flipped her onto her back, pulling himself out and ejaculating onto her skin. She moaned happily as he ground his mouth onto hers. He reached between her legs to caress her, found her wet and ready for him. He slid two fingers in and out of her, rubbed her clit with this thumb as he kissed her, feeling himself already stiffening. She moaned and writhed against him and soon he couldn’t help from driving himself into her, pinning her hands above her head.

She was wide awake now, locking her eyes onto his, the animal lust in them thrilled him. ‘Fuck me harder,’ she ordered and grinning, he complied, ramming his cock so hard into her she cried out, clawing at his back, urging him on and on. Sam watched her face change as she reached orgasm, breathless, beautiful bliss, her back arching up, her belly pressing into his stomach. Just the sight of her made him come so hard his entire body spasm, jerk as the semen pumped into her.

She pulled his head to her chest as he groaned, trying to catch his breath. He felt her kiss the top of his head.

‘I love you, big guy.’ And he sighed, sinking his face into the soft haven of her breasts.

Isa smiled as Sam scarfed down the scrambled eggs she had made him. A night of glorious fucking, of laughing, of loving had been just what they needed… well, she thought now with a grin, apart from sleep.

‘That is a filthy smile.’

She giggled and told him what she’d been thinking. He nodded, a smirk playing around his mouth. ‘I love it when you say ‘fucking.'’

‘Fucking,’ she said immediately, and they both laughed. God, it felt good to laugh, to be relaxed. This morning, this bright, unusually sunny Washington morning, she felt lighter, optimistic. This man in front of her, this wonderful man, was everything she needed. No psycho son-of-a-bitch asshole was going to take this away. It wasn’t possible.

Sam’s cell phone bleeped and, as he read the text, she watched his face light up. ‘Hey, Cal’s found a property we need to go see.’

‘For Zoe’s new gallery?’

‘Yep.’ He fixed her with an amused look. ‘So you got her to agree to the money then?’

Isa grinned. ‘Kinda. She won’t take the money straight, but we knew that. She’s thinking about a loan, at very very good interest rates to you. I told her you wouldn’t want to rip her off but then again, I think you’re both as bad as each when it comes to not wanting charity.’ She sighed dramatically. ‘You kids drive me crazy.’

Sam laughed and pulled her onto his lap. She wrinkled her nose as he kissed her. ‘Eww, egg breath.’

He chuckled. ‘Well, at least, you got her to think about it.’

‘Where’s this place?’

‘In the city. Cal won’t tell me anymore. Knowing him, he’s plotting something. Anyway, he says we can see it today.’

 

‘For an old hospital,’ Isa said, picking her way through the rubble-strewn corridor, ‘It’s remarkably un-creepy. Ouch.’ She stumbled, grazing the heel of her palm. Sam moved to help her, but Cal was nearer, offered her his hand. She took it, smiled her thanks at him.

‘The ground floor’s got the most damage,’ Cal told them, ‘The upper floors are in pretty good condition, except where the roof’s fallen in. Only a little… fallen… in… honestly.’ He added, seeing Zoe’s raised eyebrows.

The look on the older woman’s face when Cal had pulled the SUV up to the shambling, moldering remains of the Sacred Heart hospital had amused all of them: bemusement, surprise, outrage, disbelief all rolled into one. Now she moved silently through each room, in turn, flicking her eyes around. Isa, on the other hand had fallen in love instantly, and had regressed to an excited teenager. She moved through each of the tumbledown corridors, excitedly planning what to do with them. Sam could see she was trying to persuade Zoe by making her visualize what the old hospital could be.

‘The structure is solid, Zo,’ she was saying now. ‘We just need to clear the junk out, get the lighting, painting… everything set up. Look at this wall space! It could be incredible.’

Zoe wasn’t convinced. ‘It’s big,’ she said, finally. ‘Too big. The amount of money we’d need to invest…’

‘You don’t need to worry about that,’ Sam interrupted her, then as Zoe glared at him and he gave her a wide, unapologetic grin. ‘Suck it up; it’s happening.’ He heard Isa and Cal snigger.

Zoe sighed. ‘Let’s see the rest then.’ Her hangdog look made him grin.

 

They explored the ground floor. Most of the rooms off the wide main corridor seemed to be offices, old filing cabinets, desks. Isa skipped across to a room opposite them.

‘Restrooms!’ She exclaimed and even Zoe had to smile.

‘This place is awesome.’ Isa yelled and ran out again into the next room. Sam looked at his brother.

‘I think she’s happy.’

Cal laughed. ‘I think she is.’ He looked up as Isa shouted from a room way down the corridor.

‘Hey guys, come and look at this.’

They followed the sound of her voice up a flight of ramshackle stairs, Sam’s hand on Zoe’s elbow to steady her. Isa popped her head out of a door and beckoned them in impatiently. They entered the room, and Sam whistled.

They were in what clearly used to be an operating room. The huge circular light was present, the bulbs long since burnt out. Isa jiggled the handle and backed off hurriedly when the structure gave an ominous groan.

‘This could be a real feature,’ she enthused, ‘even if we took our time fixing this place up, we could get this up and running, and even make the messier parts look cool…’

‘Make a feature of the junk?’ Sam looked skeptical. She punched his arm lightly.

 

‘Who’s that artist in London? She cast around for his name. ‘Damien Hirst. Didn’t he have a place called Pharmacy?’

Sam grinned. ‘It was a restaurant, and it’s closed.’

Isa pulled a face. ‘You’re not helping,’ she grumbled and chuckling, he hugged her.

‘Sorry. Look, I’m convinced. Cal, this is a great place, a great find. Isa’s right, Zoe, it’s about time you had a gallery that reflected your reputation in the Seattle art community. Ask anyone, they all thought you deserved more than a tiny place on the island. You need to be at the forefront. Once it’s opened, I guarantee, it’ll be a national, an international, hub. Artists will fight to exhibit in it.’

Zoe rolled her eyes but flushed, flattered. She cast her eyes around the room, and Sam watched her expression carefully. She was being persuaded, he could tell.

‘Look,’ he said, ‘Have a walk around, on your own. Take it in, see it how you’ve dreamed it.’

 

They left Zoe in the operating theater and strolled through the abandoned hospital. After a while Sam nodded at his brother and Cal melted away, grinning. Isa turned to Sam confused, and smiling; he bent his head to kiss her.

‘I have something to show you.’

He led her to the far end of the hospital, up a spiral staircase. He unlocked a heavy door and stepped back, allowed her to walk in.

Isa gasped. ‘Wow…’

It was a large room, exposed brick wall, huge windows. It looked relatively intact, a few broken panes of glass, but it was undoubtedly the best room she’d seen. Sam watched her face, her excitement.

‘There’s a fully functional bathroom off it, a kitchen area over there.’ He nodded to his left. ‘It’s a great place for the city, for your work at the college. I know you love your open plan apartment. This is just bigger. Big enough for two. Maybe later for three… or four.’ His voice was soft.

Her heart thumping, she went to him. ‘What are you saying?’ But she knew. She knew, and it made tears spring into her eyes. He smiled and kissed her.

 

‘Live with me, my beautiful Isabel,’ he murmured against her lips. ‘Let’s start building our family here now…’

She nodded furiously, not trusting herself to speak, the tears dropping down her flushed cheeks, and he grinned, gathering her up into his arms, kissing her tenderly. He swung her around in his arms making her shriek and laugh her joy.

When they had calmed down some, she brushed her lips against his gently. ‘You know; we practically live together already.’

He smiled. ‘I know but this would be our place. Yours and mine. Our toothbrushes in the bathroom cabinet, not in our pockets. And think of all the stuff we get to do…’

She squinted at him, amused. ‘Oh yes?’

‘That’s right. For example, I get to do this.’ And he slid his hand down the front of her panties and caressed her. She gasped as he touched her, giggled.

‘Oh yes, because we never do this now…’

Sam grinned. ‘And all the while, I get to tell you how sexy you are…’

The pressure increased and Isa moaned.

‘…how beautiful you are…’ He kissed her as his fingers stroked her. He could feel how excited she was.

‘…how much I love you…’ He nuzzled her neck.

Isa laughed, her breath coming in little gasps now. Sam bent his head and whispered into her ear.

‘Isa, Isa, Isa…’

Sam smiled as she came, trembling and sighing his name. He bent his head and kissed her.

She caught her breath and smiled at him, her face flushed, glowing. ‘God I love you, Samuel Levy.’

‘Yeah, how much?’ His eyes were playful, challenging. From a distance they heard voices. Isa grinned wickedly and stood on her tiptoes, her mouth at his ear.

‘Enough to let you fuck me right here, right now, against this brick wall, before the others get here.’

 

He didn’t need to be told twice. He jerked her jeans and her panties down as she reached into his fly, pulling out his already hard cock. He picked her up, pressing her back against the wall as she guided him into her. It was a swift, hard, dirty fuck and as they heard Zoe and Cal approach, Sam slid his hand over her mouth to muffle her cries. She felt a rush of adrenalin at the violence of their love, the brutal way Sam rammed into her. Breathless and smiling, she bit into the hand over her mouth, making him laugh, shocked. Their orgasms hit them at the same time and, hurriedly uncoupling, tidied themselves up just as Zoe and Cal came into their room.

Zoe didn’t notice a thing, but Cal shot his brother an amused look, mouthed something to him. Sam looked down and turned away, hurriedly zipping his fly. Isa swallowed a giggle. Zoe was smiling, and Isa knew that face.

‘You’ve fallen in love with it.’

Zoe nodded. ‘I have. I can see it, Isa. But I mean what I said,’ she said sternly to Sam. ‘It’s a loan, okay?’

Sam smiled but shook his head. ‘Look, we’ll have to come up with some sort of compromise, because me and Isa, well, we’re going to be living here so…’ He didn’t get to finish before Zoe shrieked with delight and threw her arms around them both. Sam and Isa exchanged an amused look.

‘Zoe, we’ll work out the details but since we’re all family here, let’s celebrate finding this place. That’s down to you, bro, so thanks.’ Sam clapped Cal, who was standing watching them, on the back.

Zoe rolled her eyes but was beaming as they made their way out of the building.

Isa smiled to herself. God, that fast and furious fuck was such a rush. She was continually amazed at what Sam brought out in her; a feral, primal need. She exchanged a look with Sam. What a way to christen their new home. Now, right now, she knew nothing could take this away from her, away from him. This was right, she knew it, with every fiber of her being.

 

Her bubble of happiness didn’t last. Real life has to intrude, she thought, as she pulled a pile of paperwork onto her desk a few days later. She didn’t mind being here, being busy, helping out Sandy but Sam was in New York and, as a kid the day after Christmas, she felt deflated. Maybe I’m hormonal.

She distracted herself by wading through the piles of work Sandy had sneaked into her in-tray. He appeared occasionally at the side of her desk, apologetically sliding cups of coffee, napkins with cookies piled on top of them. She smiled to herself. The work wasn’t hard, just annoyingly admin-y and un-art-like.

Her phone rang mid-morning. A number she didn’t know. ‘Hello?’

Nothing. She hung up and thought nothing of it. The work phone on her desk rang. Again, no-one answered. Annoyed, she slammed the phone down.

A half hour later, Mireaux from reception called her. ‘There’s a woman down here, says she knows you and would like to come up. Says she knows you from the gallery. Casey Hamilton?’

The name sounded vaguely familiar, but Isa didn’t remember her. ‘Send her up.’

Why not? It might be one of Zoe’s friends. What could be the harm?

She regretted that thought five minutes later when the red-headed woman who’d been so rude to her walked into the room. Shit. Isa’s face hardened.

‘How can I help you?’ Her tone was clipped, but the woman smiled. It was a friendly smile which softened the woman’s angular features.

‘I’m sorry to intrude but I read about your exhibition, about the fire in the local paper. I wanted to say how sorry I was.’ She looked around the art department. ‘The article mentioned you worked here, so I thought…’ She stopped and sighed. ‘Look, I know I wasn’t the politest, I mean, I know I was somewhat rude before. I wanted to apologize and offer my condolences.’

She held out her hand, and Isa took it hesitantly. She had no idea why this woman would bother, but she seemed genuine enough.

‘I’m Casey Hamilton. I’m an artist too, and I know what it must have been like to lose your work like that. Devastating.’ Without being asked, she sat down in the chair opposite Isa’s.

 

Casey Hamilton. Isa had heard of her; she had been the new wunderkind of the Seattle scene in the early 2000’s. She burned bright – and fast. Isa vaguely remembered something about drugs. She took a deep breath.

‘Look, it was nice of you to come but – ‘

‘Your work was extraordinary.’ Casey interrupted and Isa was astonished to see two spots of pink appear on her cheeks. ‘Exquisite. I admit, I was jealous. I’m not proud of how I behaved, really, I’m not. I’d like to get to know you.’

Isa frowned. ‘Why?’

Casey studied her for a long moment. ‘Because I think we have a lot in common. I haven’t picked up a paintbrush in years. Years. But when I saw your work, I was inspired. Gave me the kick in the butt I needed.’

Isa was taken aback, and her instincts were in turmoil. Casey nodded, reading her thoughts.

‘I don’t blame you for doubting me; my behavior before was so, ha, I’d like to say it was out of character but I’ve always been the envious type.’ Suddenly she reached over and took Isa’s hand, leaning forward, her expression earnest – and a little pleading. ‘I’m trying to change. Really. Look, I’m going to go now but would you consider having lunch with me next week?’

‘I, er…’

Casey Hamilton pulled a business card from her pocket and gave it to her. ‘Think about it. Call me.’

 

Isa let herself into her apartment and shut the door. She was still going over the bizarre meeting with Casey Hamilton in her head. The woman had appeared contrite, genuine, but Isa still didn’t know why she wanted to get to know her.

Her head was pounding and the apartment too empty. She hated when Sam was away now, not because of the safety thing but because she missed his presence, his big body, his kiss and his company.

She pulled out her cell phone and settled on the couch to call him. He answered straight away, and a warm ribbon of joy settled inside of her as she heard how happy he was to hear her.

‘Hey, beautiful girl.’

‘How’s NY?’

‘Too far from you. I’m coming back early tomorrow, as early as I can.’

She chuckled. ‘I distract you from work.’

‘Hell yes, I wouldn’t have it any another way. Are you okay? Your voice is kinda weird.’

‘I have my head in a diving bell.’

‘Funny girl.’

She smiled. ‘Just a headache. I’m going to order pizza, take a bath, grab an early night.’

Sam groaned. ‘Ah, dammit, without me? That sounds like the perfect evening.’

She laughed. ‘I mean grab an early night to sleep, dirty boy. Get my strength up for tomorrow.’

She heard him laugh, a low, filthy sound. ‘And why would that be?’

God, even over the phone he could turn her on. ‘Because of the mind-blowing, limb-jellifying fucking that we’ll be doing.’

His laugh was louder this time. ‘Oh, that, of course.’

She debated suggesting phone sex but her headache was beginning to make her vision fuzzy. ‘Baby… hurry home to me. I love you.’

‘I love you too, sweetheart. Goodnight, my Isabel.’

 

He opened the door quietly, stepped into the apartment and listened. No sound. He’d seen her bedroom light go off an hour ago. He had taken his shoes off and left them in the car. He’d climbed the stairs, making sure to avoid the third from the top. He’d noticed it squeaked the first time he’d visited - when he’d watched them fuck for the first time. The night he first saw her, the night he decided to kill her.

He moved silently through the room towards the screen that separated her bedroom from the rest of the apartment.

He stood in the doorway and watched her. She didn’t stir, her long dark hair spread across the pillows. He noticed she slept on one side of the bed, rather than the middle. Moonlight was coming in from the window. He looked over and saw a small bottle sitting on the nightstand. Sleeping tablets. He smiled and stepped into the room. Walking round to the opposite side of the bed, he sat down. He touched the pocket where he kept the knife. If she woke and screamed… but she didn’t even stir when the bed moved. He reached and touched her hair, letting his fingers pull through the fine strands.

He traced the curve of her cheek, her top lip, her eyelid. She didn’t wake. He shifted closer and lifted her head onto his lap so he could see her face. He brushed her hair back from her face with his palm. He traced a line from her neck down between her breasts. Pushing the duvet down, he ran his hand over her bare stomach, her thighs. Soft, soft skin. His breathing became ragged. He pulled the knife from his pocket and drew the tip over her skin, tracing from her throat, down to just below her left breast, over her heart. A few inches between life and death. He slid the tip over her stomach, letting the blade follow the curves and hollows of her skin until it dipped into her deep, round navel. His fist tightened on the handle. The temptation to drive it into her was overwhelming.

Not yet… not yet…

He squeezed his eyes shut, but when he opened them, he pulled the knife away from her. The tip of the sharp blade had nicked her skin, and a thin trail of blood dripped down her skin onto the bed. Shit. Stupid fucker, taking risks like that. Ruining everything.

He froze when she tensed her shoulders up, her head shifting. She opened her eyes and gazed up at him, still mostly asleep, not really seeing him.

‘Are you going to kill me?’

The question thrilled him, shocked him and delighted him. He stroked her face and smiled.

‘Yes.’ He replied, and she closed her eyes, sighed and was asleep again.

He stroked her face one more time then bent down to kiss her soft, warm mouth.

‘Yes, my love,’ he whispered softly, ‘Yes, I’m going to kill you, my sweet, sweet Isabel…’

Part #2 Hurt Me

Hurt Me