CHAPTER 6

Isobel

I saw the moment my real name registered with him. His whole body tensed, and he stopped moving. We stood there in silence for a brief moment, when his lip curled, and hatred filled his eyes. He wrapped a hand around my neck, almost cutting off my air supply.

“How fucking dare you try and use her name to save your ass.”

He grabbed my arm with his other hand, his fingers biting down hard enough to leave bruises.

“It’s me,” I forced past my lips, trying to think of a way to make him see reason.

“Bullshit. Amanda’s dead.” He let go of my throat and yanked me farther across the room.

I shook my head. “No. She went missing eight years ago.”

“Yeah, then a year later her parents held a funeral for her.”

I stopped fighting his hold, stopped moving. “That casket was closed. It was closed because I wasn’t in there.”

His hand tightened even harder around my arm and with one good flick of his wrist he’d be able to break it. Rage radiated off him in waves. God help me if I was actually lying. Brock wasn’t one to forgive easily and that type of lie would be unforgivable. Not only would he kill me, he’d make it as painful as possible.

“Shut your goddamn mouth.”

“I swear, I can prove it’s me.”

His nostrils flared, his eyes cold as stone. “Say one more word and I won’t make this painless. You’ll suffer as much as your piece of shit husband.”

I was treading very deep water with him, and if I didn’t tell him soon I was likely to drown. “I gave you my virginity sophomore year after the homecoming dance in your dad’s old, beat-up Ford truck.”

Brock froze. He didn’t move, didn’t blink. Hell, I wasn’t even sure he was breathing. Hard eyes studied me. I let him look his fill. All he would see was the truth etched in every piece of me. A few moments of tense silence passed, when those same eyes softened a little. Brock was still on guard and didn’t trust me at all. Why should he?

“Jesus fucking Christ.” He ran a hand through his hair, the look in his eyes haunted as if he were seeing a ghost. Which for him, I guess he was. “Amanda?” he questioned cautiously.

“It’s me.” I kept my gaze on him, willing him to see the truth.

He watched me, yet I held my ground. I lifted my chin. I had nothing to hide. A few moments later, he threw a thumb over his shoulder.

“Upstairs, now.”

I pursed my lips. “No one tells me what to do.”

He took hold of my upper arm, his grip much different than before, but still forceful enough to propel me toward the stairs. “Since you’re in my house and I still don’t know what the hell to do, until I decide, you’re going to shut up and do what I say.”

Under normal circumstances, I’d have his ass for speaking to me like that, but these weren’t normal circumstances. I needed to protect my family and I couldn’t do that dead. I moved my arms to the side and held my hands out to him. “At least take these off first.”

Again, he watched me, before he signaled me to turn around. “One move I don’t like . . .” He left the sentence hanging in the air. He didn’t need to finish it for me to know what he meant. After another moment, he gestured for me to turn around.

“I know better than that. The rumors Nathan spread about me make it seem like I was as vicious as he was. I don’t blame you for being cautious.” The band fell to the floor and I brought my arms forward, the strain of having my arms pulled back for so long making my shoulders sore. I rubbed at my wrists, bringing the feeling back into them where the bands had cut into my skin.

He gestured to the stairs. “Upstairs, now. And you better tell me everything.”

I’d watched Brock over the years and knew he wasn’t a man to be tangled with. He was smart, only using force when it was required. Never for fun. So it didn’t surprise me when he made me climb the stairs first. The first rule in a fight—never give your back to your enemy. And right now, I was enemy number one to Brock. When we reached the landing, he pointed me to a room to the right of the hall. The light flicked on and I blinked, letting my gaze come into focus on a small, yet simple office.

“Sit.” Brock pointed to a chair in the corner. His tone brokered no argument.

I checked the initial impulse to stomp my foot. I dropped into the chair next to me and watched as he walked to the other side of the room, doing his best to keep me in his line of sight. It would take time for Brock to trust me again.

“Brock . . .”

He held up his hand, silencing me. With a glance over his shoulder, he grabbed the decanter off the side table and filled a tumbler. In one gulp he swallowed the liquid and slammed the glass down. He paced the room, rubbing the back of his neck. My knee started to bounce as I waited to see what was going through his head. He dropped his ass on the edge of the desk.

“Start talking.”

It was clear that Brock wouldn’t ask again. Even though I feared for the safety of my family if anyone found out the secrets I’d given away, I knew that if there was one person I could trust, it was Brock, or at least I hoped I could trust him. The two of us had changed so much over the years that I could be wrong, but I had hope. On top of that, refusing his request would leave me dead with no way to protect my family.

I told him about coming home from college junior year and finding Nathan Marcello in my home, about the deal where I traded my freedom for my brother’s life. My vision blurred and my throat burned throughout the story. “The next day my mother took me to the salon, and we dyed my hair.” I held out a piece of the brown locks I still hated looking at in the mirror every morning. “And I signed the papers, legally changing my name to Isobel the moment they arrived, but it wasn’t enough for Nathan to give Michael back.” Unable to keep my face neutral, my lip curled into a sneer. “He wouldn’t let me see Michael, even after I’d done everything he’d asked. It wasn’t until two weeks later, after we were married by a justice of the peace that he let my brother go.”

I shivered at the memory of how my brother looked when Nathan’s guard led him from the house that had become my prison. “They’d beaten and starved him. He was so weak, I was surprised he was able to walk out of the house on his own.” I’d vowed long ago to never let myself be that vulnerable again.

Brock ran a hand down his face, then refilled his glass again. “Why the funeral?”

I stood and walked over to Brock, taking the glass out of his hand. I tipped it back and let the liquid drain away the farce my life had become. He watched me with narrowed eyes before grabbing another glass and filling both. I lifted it to my lips again and drained it. The alcohol made it a little easier to relive that time in my life.

I laughed humorlessly. “Nathan wanted to celebrate the death of Amanda Renville and the birth of Isobel Marcello. My parents had been satisfied with the story that I’d run away. It killed my mother to hold that funeral, and I had to stand in the back and watch everything I planned for my life buried in that grave.” Pain radiated out from my chest and for the first time in years I let a tear escape. Nathan wouldn’t allow me to cry. According to him, it made me weak, and his wife wouldn’t be weak. He’d beaten me so badly one time I couldn’t leave the house for weeks. Even the best makeup in the world couldn’t cover the bruises I had.

Brock lifted a hand and brushed the tear with his thumb. Caught in his gaze, I was transported back in time. Brock had been the man I wanted since I was thirteen years old. I’d spent every minute I had chasing after him, until he let me catch him. He took me to dances and brought me flowers, even when I knew his family struggled for money. He was the man I thought I’d spend the rest of my life with. We had everything planned. That was when my father sent me away to college to find ‘a man who could take care of me.’ I doubt he ever imagined he’d lead me to a man who had money but definitely did not take care of me. Brock treated me like a princess. Nathan treated me as a punching bag or arm candy depending on the situation. Money didn’t mean shit.

As if he realized what he’d done, Brock pulled his hand away.

“Jesus fuck.” He grabbed the bottle, forgoing the glass, and brought it to his lips. I couldn’t take my eyes off the way his throat moved as he swallowed the liquid down. He held the bottle out to me. “No wonder you didn’t give a shit that he’s dead.”

I took the bottle from his hands, taking a long pull of the liquid. When I set it back on the table, I looked him directly in the eyes. “Bastard got exactly what he deserves for ruining my life. His death means my freedom.”

He stood, shoving the chair back so hard it toppled to the floor. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me? You knew who I worked for, what I did? I would have gotten you the fuck out of there.” He came around the desk, pacing the length of the room.

“You didn’t work for the Hawes family when Nathan took me. After that, I’m sure you would’ve been more than happy to help Isobel Marcello.” The sarcasm slashed through the room like a whip.

“If I had known the truth, I would have killed the prick years ago.”

“And how in the hell was I supposed to let you know without Nathan or his goons finding out? Until Nathan was dead, everyone in my family was at risk. I’m afraid they still might be if the idiots that work for him know I’m with you. He already had my father killed.”

“Your father died in a boating accident. My parents told me not long after it happened. They felt bad for your mom and brother.”

I stepped in his path. “For fuck’s sake, you know how to make someone’s death look like an accident. I’m sure you’ve done it once or twice.”

“Fuck.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“And right now, I’m even more worried about my mom and Michael. If Nathan’s cronies find out I’m with you and not being held against my will, I don’t want to think about what they might do to the two of them.”

He dropped into a chair and shook his head. “With everything that happened with Tess, I don’t want to drag the Haweses into a fight that isn’t theirs. They’ve done enough for me over the years. I will if I have to, but with everything they think they know about you, it might take time to convince them. And right now, time is one thing we don’t have.”

I set the glass on the table next to me. “No, we don’t. Once they figure out Nathan is missing, they’re going on the hunt.”

He glanced at his watch. “How long do you think before someone goes to the house and finds you missing?”

“The housekeeper doesn’t show up until eight. Nathan was very adamant that things were done later in the morning. He didn’t want any noise to wake him up.”

“Narcissistic bastard.”

I wanted to roll my eyes at the understatement of that theory. “You have no idea. Which means I need to get to my family before that.”

After years of living with the secret that tore my life apart, it seemed like a three-hundred-pound weight was lifted off my shoulders and I was allowed to live again.

“I’m not going to let them hurt my family.”