Chapter Seven
“The mind is its own place,
And in itself can make a heaven of hell,
A hell of heaven.”
John Milton
Paradise Lost
The next morning, Isadora awoke alone. She’d expected as much, and told herself any sense of disenchantment was inappropriate. Her body ached in secret places, but with every twinge came a sense of happiness.
Moments from the night before played through her mind, leaving her with a steady blush that wouldn’t fade. Even as she stared at the pages of her newest novel, her mind drifted to fantasies between every line, fantasies that had been her reality only hours before.
“You’re quiet today.”
Lifting her gaze from the novel in her hand, she glanced at Lucian. “I’m reading.”
His eyes narrowed. Sometimes Lucian was too perceptive, too all knowing. Searching for a distraction, she asked, “Did you have fun last night?”
He nodded. “We actually ran into Vivian.”
Vivian Callahan, Shamus’s sister, was an old friend of Isadora’s, but their lives were on different tracks. She’d been away at school for some time while Isadora had yet to leave her childhood home. “How is she?”
“Great. Engaged. In medical school now. She seems so far ahead of the rest of us.”
“She’s getting married?” Strange that the information made her feel happy and sad.
“Well, she wants to graduate first, but she said they’re planning to get married sometime before she starts her residency.”
So they were only a few years away from a wedding. “Good for her. Did you meet her fiancée?”
He nodded. “He seems all right. Not what I’d expect, but a decent enough guy.”
“What’s his name?”
“Ian Sheffield. Do you know him?”
She didn’t know anyone. “No. What’s Shamus think of him?”
“Jamie’s a tough nut to crack. Says the jury’s out until he gets to know him better.”
“I think it’s cute how protective he is of his big sister.”
“Jamie’s protective of too many girls. Eventually he’s going to have to loosen his guard.”
“Why do you say that?”
Lucian shrugged. “I can’t see him single for long. Whoever he ends up with, I guarantee she’ll receive all of his attention. And she had better be a damn strong woman.”
She tsked, thinking he was being a little hard on his friend. “Jamie’s a teddy bear.”
He arched a brow and his expression shuttered. “I know a side of him you don’t. Jamie’s easy disposition is what people see on the surface, but there’s a whole lot more going on underneath that façade.”
She frowned. “Are you saying he’s fake?”
“No. He’s an absolute gentleman when he needs to be. But no one’s a gentleman all the time.”
“Well, everyone has a temper.”
“Not a temper. He wouldn’t lose control like that. He’s … exacting. Demanding.”
“Do you mean with girls?” It wasn’t like Shamus had any real career experience to reference. He seemed too easygoing to be as meticulous as Lucian made him sound.
“Not girls. Women . You’d be surprised how many older women want him—and they aren’t looking for a teddy bear.”
To each his own, she supposed. But she didn’t like the implied ambiguity that someone Lucian’s age might be demanding with women. She didn’t want her brother partaking in anything disrespectful, anything that some opportunistic young girl might use against him later.
It wasn’t uncommon for women to fling accusations at wealthy men—even the young ones. That sort of sexual extortion happened more than the modest members of polite society would care to admit, which was why it usually ended with a large sum of money being paid out.
The three of them—Lucian, Jamie, and Slade—should all be careful. “When it comes to women, Lucian, you have to ask.”
He laughed. “I know that, Isa.”
“Does Jamie?”
He gave her a strange look. “Some women like to be told.”
Her brow tightened. “Very few.”
How much experience could these boys possibly have? They were eighteen and nineteen years old. Regardless, she didn’t like the impression she was getting.
“What’s wrong with women your own age? You should be meeting girls at college.”
He laughed. “Don’t lecture me . We were talking about Shamus. And despite being in college, I’m not interested in shallow girls who think they’re sophisticated because they know what a macchiato is, stage their lives to resemble some undeserving celebrity, and try so hard to appear unique their only accomplishment is looking like everyone else. Show me an intelligent woman who’s different from the rest of women my age and you’ll have my full attention.”
Well, at least he’d put some thought into his tastes. “I think it’s good you’re being selective. You’re too young to settle down anyway.”
Lifting the novel she placed on the cushion between them, he casually examined the blurb on the back. “I don’t know if I’ll ever settle down. I have a lot I want to accomplish and a relationship would only get in my way.”
She scoffed. “Everyone wants to fall in love at some point.”
He returned the book to the cushion. “No offense, Isa, but men don’t care about those things.” He gave her romance novel a little nudge.
His statement took her by surprise, not because she believed he was right, but because he was so very wrong—he had to be, or there was really no point in hoping for more in terms of her own happiness. “You sound like Daddy.”
“I do not.” His easy expression hardened, an emotional wall going up so fast she almost felt a physical gust of wind hit her.
He did. He was putting business before human connections, before emotional ties. “Don’t delay your life for some silly vendetta, Lucian. You’re better than him. You don’t need to prove that to anyone. The people who love you already know how impressive you are.”
His expression shuttered some more. “With all due respect, Isa, let’s keep you and my private life separate.”
It hurt, being shut out so succinctly. More signs of their father. She couldn’t just let it go.
“Men care about love. They want to be loved as much as the rest of the world. Any man who denies it is a fool and will most likely spend his life alone and miserable.”
“I don’t want to hurt your feelings, Isa, but … you’re wrong. You don’t have any experience beyond fictional fairytales. If you did, you’d realize we don’t care about those things the way women do.”
She scoffed, offended but unable to share the source of her logic. “I’m not a prude, Lucian. I know more than the stuff in books.”
“Okay.”
“I have experience,” she argued.
“Look, I’m not going to discuss my proclivities with you and I don’t want to hear about yours. You’re my sister.”
She scowled at him. “Like you even know what the word proclivities means.”
He raised a brow and she decided she didn’t want to know if he did or didn’t. But in a way she wanted to tell him her latest secret, even though she swore she wouldn’t say a word. It was probably best that Lucian didn’t want to know the personal details of her life— but she had details!
And she knew a thing or two about men. Sawyer could be very passionate and feeling. It wasn’t love, but it was something.
So long as Lucian wasn’t completely dismissing possibilities, she’d accept his current feelings on love. Over time they might change. Men changed. Relationships evolved. People grew.
“Just admit—for my own piece of mind—that you know not all men are cold. There are men like Daddy and then there are men nothing like him. Guess which ones are better.”
“Stop comparing me to Dad.” He groused and huffed. “Fine. Some men might care about that stuff, but right now, I don’t.”
Right now. That made her a little more comfortable. Let him be ambitious now. It would help him in college and, down the line, help him find a job. But eventually she hoped he’d fall in love. She hoped they all would.
It suddenly occurred to her Lucian was treating her like his equal, not the enemy. She’d carried so much fear they might never talk like equals again. His new attitude toward her was a huge relief.
Shooting him a smile, she confessed, “I missed you. I’m glad you’re home.”
He studied her for a short moment, his mouth hooking in a half grin. “I missed you, too.”
It was the first time in a long time that she believed their situation wouldn’t negatively affect them in later years. If Lucian continued to let her in, little by little, they might someday exist simply as brother and sister. Friends.
A sharp sense of guilt hit her as she realized now that he seemed to be opening up and letting down his guard she was the one keeping secrets. She still wasn’t sure if Sawyer was a big secret or a little one. That depended on Sawyer. If things continued, eventually Lucian would find out. He was too perceptive not to. So long as no one told their father she figured that was fine.
***
Sawyer called the Monday after the boys returned to school. He wanted to see her again, but in her brother’s absence there seemed a spotlight on her every motion. Not that Toni was concerned with her old, boring sister’s personal life—she had her own life—but it didn’t go unnoticed when Isadora suddenly announced she was going out after not going anywhere in … forever.
“Can I come with you?”
“No, it’s a school night and you have homework.”
Toni scoffed. “I have to study. That’ll take two seconds.”
“Maybe if you took more than two seconds you could get that B minus up to an A.”
“Where are you going anyway?”
Isadora fussed with her shirt, not liking the way it sagged in the front. Returning to her closet she said, “Out with friends.”
“What friends? You don’t have any friends.”
Silently counting to ten, she changed into another shirt. “I have friends.”
“Who?”
She couldn’t think of a single believable person, so she made one up. “Susan.”
“Who’s Susan?”
“You know Susan.”
“No, I don’t. Has she ever been to the house?”
“I’m sure you’ve met her.” Avoiding eye contact, she sorted through her jewelry box.
“No I haven’t.”
Isadora shut out the light on her vanity and Toni trailed her to the kitchen where she’d left her other pearl earring by the phone.
“I think you’re making up this Susan .”
“Why would I do that, Antoinette? You’re just not used to me having a life.”
“True. Can I rent a movie tonight?”
“No. It’s late. You need to study for your test and shower before bed. And I don’t want you on the phone after nine.”
“How late do you plan to be?”
“As late as I please.” She grabbed her houndstooth coat, and adjusted her scarf.
Her sister, always her second set of eyes when it came to color coordination, laughed. “That scarf’s yellow. It totally clashes.”
Toni’s honesty wasn’t always delicate, but Isadora appreciated her sister’s bluntness on occasion—especially where style was concerned. If not for Toni, Isadora would be a fashion disaster.
She pulled the scarf from her neck. “I’ve been wearing that with this jacket all week. Can you find me something that matches?”
Toni examined the print of her coat and nosed through the closet, pulling out a soft pashmina. “Here, there’s red in your coat. This’ll match.”
Isa twisted the material around her neck. “Thanks. Do as I said and I’ll see you in the morning. If you need anything, Lucy’s in charge.” Lucy was their youngest maid.
“I’ll just call you if I need something.”
“Fine, but only if something’s wrong.”
“Like if the house is on fire?”
“Toni,” she warned, and her sister snickered. Buttoning her coat, Isadora took a deep breath. “Okay, I guess I’m ready.”
“Ready for what?”
She sighed. The conversation had escalated to a point of tediousness she wouldn’t escape until she was out the door. “Goodnight. Behave.”
“Bye. Have fun with Susan. ”
Isadora rolled her eyes and entered the eight-car garage. Hitting her key fob, the lights of her Volvo XC90 came to life and the engine purred. She slid inside, the seats warming her bottom as she waited for the car to heat.
The Bishop’s estate was picturesque with modern undertones, situated on an expanse of lush land butting up against the local country club. The nearby golf course gave the impression of more acreage, making it difficult to discern where one property ended and the Bishop’s began. She liked that his house was so close to hers—well, her father’s.
Sometime over the past several years since her father relocated to his estate in France, she’d come to think of the home they occupied as hers. It wasn’t. She knew that, but the remaining servants now answered to her. Her father merely paid the bills, which, with a house the size of theirs, was nothing to dismiss. She should be grateful he let her stay there.
She scoffed. He should be grateful she stuck around to meet the obligations he abandoned—namely, raising his children.
When she pulled onto the long drive the front door opened. Sawyer waited on a long cobblestone patio that seemed more suitable for a backyard than a front one. She’d never been inside his home. She’d only acted as her brother’s chauffeur in the years before he got his license, caddying him to and from his friends’ houses.
Sawyer approached and opened her door. “Hi.”
She smiled, a little jittery with the sense that they were somehow breaking the rules. It was silly. They were both adults. “Hi.”
“Want to come inside?”
She unbuckled her seatbelt and he took her arm, guiding her down from the raised seating. “Thank you.” She adored how gentlemanly he was with her.
“I ordered dinner from the country club. I figured that would be easier than enduring my abysmal culinary skills.”
Her laughter held a tinge of nervousness. “I’m sure you’re as capable in the kitchen as you are in any other room.”
“Your faith is flattering, but I’m afraid my skills in the kitchen versus the bedroom are worlds apart.”
“Well, at least you’re modest,” she teased.
Men like Sawyer had a habit of doing everything well. So she couldn’t very well blame him for taking credit where credit was due.
He waved a hand for her to step into the house first, but as soon as the door shut he caught her hand, this time with a touch of urgency and turned her back to the wall. His mouth found hers, the evening shadow of his jaw scratching against her chin deliciously as he kissed her.
He was so good at hiding his attraction until precisely the right moment when they had absolute privacy. Still waters sure did run deep, because once he showed his hand there was quite a bit to see. Melting into him, she sighed.
His devastating eyes peeked under full lashes as he stared at her, their lips only a breath apart. “Why don’t we apply some of my better skills in the kitchen?”
She giggled. “I don’t know. A bed makes a big difference.”
“Are you saying you wouldn’t enjoy it?” He nibbled her lip, pulling back slowly as tempting promises danced in his heated gaze.
“Counters might be easier than carpets. I won’t know until I’ve tried.”
Something flashed in his eyes and he chuckled. “Who knew there was this side of you?”
People always assumed she was so prim and proper because she was a Patras and a generally quiet person. To be taken seriously at school functions and conferences, she had no choice but to act the part of a respectable middle-aged woman, but that really wasn’t her at all.
She loved playing around and being silly. The problem was, no one ever wanted to play with her. Everyone seemed in such a rush to grow up. She’d been forced to be an adult before she could legally vote. Her younger years were a collection of missed opportunities she doubted she’d ever get back. Any opportunity to be a little adventurous seemed an opportunity she couldn’t miss.
“Did you want to?” she asked, thinking fooling around in a kitchen might be a rite of passage she should check off her list.
His tongue swirled beneath her ear and he groaned then grudgingly stepped back. “I should feed you first. I did promise dinner.”
She really didn’t care about eating, but he was probably right. This was nice, having the chance to sit and talk like a normal couple—sort of like an actual date. It definitely clarified things. She obviously wasn’t just there for a booty call, although that had its merits, too.
His hand slid into hers and he pulled her away from the wall, further into the house. “I’ll give you the grand tour.”
Her blood heated and she was certain she wore a deep blush, just from being near him. He led her through his home and there was a familiar sense of him in the air. She greedily appraised every surface for clues about the sort of man he was in private.
Books, there were lots of books, and a large television in the open living room. “This is nice. Did you read all of those books?”
“No. An interior decorator chose them.”
She snorted. “I don’t know what’s funnier, the idea of you having a decorator or the fact that you have a gorgeous wall of books only to stare at the spines.” She stepped closer to the shelves and frowned. “No wonder. Who wants to read An In Depth History of Igneous Rocks? Don’t you enjoy fiction?”
She turned and found him leaning against the adjacent wall watching her, an amused grin on his face. “I’m more of a TV guy, but I take it you like to read.”
“I love to read. I think it’s a crime for a non-reader to have such a beautiful bookcase. I have a sort of obsession with fancy bookshelves. It’s almost pornographic the way I ogle them.”
He chuckled. “Maybe later I’ll show you the moldings in my office,” he teased. “There’s a bookcase in there, too.”
“So unfair. I want the name of your decorator—not for my reading list, but for shelves like this.”
“That would be my carpenter. I’ll get you one of his cards. Come on. Kitchen’s this way.”
His kitchen was impressive for a man who claimed not to cook. He’d set the table with white dishes and linen napkins. As he unpacked boxes of food, she analyzed the various surfaces—hard granite counters, cold porcelain tile… Maybe sex in a kitchen wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.
“Did you have a hard time getting out of the house?”
Giving up her appraisal of the room, she took a seat at the table. “No, but Toni had lots of questions.” She smirked. “I told her your name was Susan.”
He stilled in the midst of removing another carton of food from the box. “Susan?”
“Well, she wanted to know who I was meeting and I couldn’t think of anyone.”
“I suppose I could be Susan. Though I doubt Toni’s old enough to draw any conclusions about our relationship.”
“Toni’s nosey and has a big mouth. I didn’t want her saying anything to Lucian.”
“Then it’s probably wise I remain Susan for the time being.”
He took a seat at the table and dished out food. The conversation came easily, being that Sawyer had a firm grasp of the main players in her life. They discussed his career, raising children, and briefly touched on her parents.
“Your mother was a patient woman,” he commented, fondness hidden in his gaze.
“She’d have to be to put up with my father.”
“Christos has never been an easy man.”
That was an understatement. “No, he hasn’t.”
“How are he and Tibet?”
She shrugged, not able to offer much in the way of her father’s second marriage to the woman who was once his mistress. “Happy, I suppose. We rarely hear from them.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
Certain burdens seemed so heavy at first, but over time, they were simply accepted. Putting them down felt like losing a piece of herself, so she preferred to lug her resentment with her everywhere she went. But she wanted to make sure Sawyer didn’t see her as any sort of martyr.
“I’m not sorry,” she explained. “I think the house is happier without him in it. Lucian seems to finally be letting go of his anger. I know I’m a better parent than my dad ever was, so things are just better this way.”
“Your brother’s definitely someone to watch. I have no doubt he’ll do well for himself. Slade says he’s already making connections. I wish my son would take a page out of his book.”
“What connections?” She knew very little of her brother’s personal life, which, according to their recent conversations, was exactly the way he preferred it.
“People in the industry, colleagues of mine and your father’s. He’s making a good impression, from what I hear.”
She frowned. “I don’t understand. He’s at school. When is he meeting these people?”
“He has a busy social life. With their campus located in the heart of the city, it’s expected, don’t you think? Rather than wasting time at keggers, he’s working the proper circuits, grabbing odd jobs as they come.”
“Working? He should be studying.”
“I didn’t bring it up to start trouble, bella. I was merely paying a compliment.”
Her brother had a habit of watching the stock market too closely. Chances were he was investing a great deal of the money she’d sent him—via their father—into various shares. “I suppose if he’s keeping his grades up I can’t comment.”
His fingers brushed over hers. “You can always comment. Whether others listen is anybody’s guess. But I’ll listen.”
And that was why she enjoyed him so much. Sawyer always paid attention to her words and never dismissed her feelings, especially when it came to family life, which was all she really had at the moment.
“How’s Slade doing this semester?”
“B’s. Let’s just hope they transfer.”
“Transfer? Where’s he going?”
His lips parted, his words hesitating a split second. “I thought you knew. He’s transferring to Lucian’s school in the spring. Next year they plan on splitting an apartment.”
“Lucian didn’t tell me any of this.”
Although it made sense. Lucian had wanted to attend the same school as Slade. Sawyer’s son seemed to visit her brother every weekend. But still, he should have let her know he planned to move out of the dorms. “I swear, sometimes I wonder who’s actually in charge.”
He caught her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. “He’s an adult, Isa. Let go of the reins. I’m pretty confident your brother will do just fine.”
After dinner they moved to the couch and he put on a movie. She wasn’t interested in watching television, but she liked the opportunity to snuggle close and touch him freely. Each stolen caress heightened her desire to have him.
Sawyer’s hand rested on her thigh like a weight of temptation. She hardly paid attention to the television, her full focus on willing that hand to move higher. When his fingers curled against her knee, making slow whirls over the material of her pants, one would have thought she was being fondled in the most intimate of places.
Her feet slowly dropped to the floor and her knees eased apart. He spared her a sidelong glance and smiled, his focus returning to the screen. It took eons for his hand to work its way back up her thigh and by the time he was only a few inches from her sex she was soaked.
Her heart pounded with wanting, but his composure seemed unshakable. Biting down on her lip, she glanced at his profile, his focus still on the movie. She casually rested her hand over his, lacing her fingers in the space between his knuckles. He spared her another smile, but seemed oblivious to the havoc his hand was causing.
Drawing in a deep breath, she sucked in her stomach and pulled his hand to the center of her thighs. His head turned and he looked at her, eyes assessing.
Still nibbling her lip, she held his gaze and flicked open the button of her pants. Without breaking eye contact, she guided his hand inside of her panties and watched as his pupils expanded.
His finger slid through her arousal, slipping between her folds and drawing a sigh from her lips. He pressed a long finger as deep as it would fit and she eased her body into the couch cushions, parting her thighs more.
No longer watching the television, he pulled back and thrust his finger deep again, startling her with the intensity of his penetration.
His eyes darkened as his lashes lowered. “Is this what you want?”
Her breath labored as she held his challenging stare, refusing to shy away from her body’s desires. “Yes.”
He filled her with another finger, stretching her and teasing a sensitive spot deep inside. “You’re soaked.”
Her hands moved to the cushion of the couch, showing him she wouldn’t stop him from touching her. His gaze traveled over her body, and he turned to fully face her, slowly pumping his fingers into her sex.
Soft keening moans passed her lips as he worked his hand between her wet flesh and damp panties. The longer he touched her the more restless she became. Her hands couldn’t keep still. She cupped her breast through her shirt and arched into his touch. That seemed to entice him. He withdrew his fingers, shifted so he was kneeling in front of her and yanked off her pants, stripping her from the waist down.
“Spread your legs.”
She complied and his mouth dropped to her sex, his fingers stabbing deep as he drove her into a rapid fit of pleasure. Every time they were together it was better than the last. He made her feel like a woman, sexy and desirable.
She loved when they made love. But more than anything, she loved the way his attention felt, unsure what neglected part of her psyche he was mending, but knowing it needed everything he provided.
Before long his clothing was tossed aside and he was driving into her with hard thrusts. The movie played, an insignificant backdrop to their sighs of pleasure. He exceeded her growing expectations and in the end she was deeply satisfied and deliciously sore.
The movie came to a close and they held one another through the credits, the soundtrack a soft backdrop to her fanciful thoughts as they rested. All too soon, she found herself dressing. He walked her to her car and kissed her goodnight. “Can I see you again next Monday?”
She tried not to overreact at the idea of not seeing him for a solid seven days. “Sure. And maybe we could see each before then, too.”
His smile was too gentle to reach his eyes. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t want to monopolize your time, bella.”
“You’re not. I have plenty to spare.”
His eyes creased. “You should be going out with friends your own age. I don’t want you to wait around for moments when we can be alone.”
But her friends were all in college or had moved away to start new jobs. The few that remained in the area were planning futures and falling in love or already in love and starting families. Every month she received another Save the Date card in the mail. All she seemed to do was wait from one wedding to the next. And every time she forked over another sizable wedding gift she wondered if it was her attendance those old acquaintances were after or a Patras check.
Now she feared her relationship with Sawyer would be another waiting game she’d have to endure. “Sawyer, are we only going to see each other once a week?”
His gaze skated away from her face for a split second. “Bella, I haven’t been with anyone in a long time. Is it too much to ask that we ease into this?”
She supposed taking it slow was okay. “What about other women?” The thought of him touching someone else the way he touched her made her stomach turn. “I’d like it if we were monogamous.”
“I have no issue with monogamy. You’re the woman I want.”
Relieved, she smiled. “So, no one else.”
He hesitated. “There may be certain functions, social things that require I bring a guest. In situations like that I usually attend with a colleague who has something to gain from networking the event.”
She frowned. “Are you talking about fundraisers and things like that?”
“Yes. Social obligations. Benefits that better a cause by the number of guests that attend. It’s frowned upon to go to such things alone.”
She supposed it would be fine if he was only bringing colleagues. “As long as we’re monogamous, I suppose that’s fine.”
“If there’s ever a time…” His words drifted off. “I won’t hold you back, Isadora. We can be exclusive, but if you met someone … I’d understand.”
The chances of her meeting anyone were unlikely. Her life was pretty consumed by Toni’s schedule. “We’ll cross that bridge when, and if, we come to it.”
“Fair enough. So I’ll see you Monday?”
Knowing he’d already met her biggest demands, she didn’t want to sound unsatisfied. Monday wasn’t too far away. She could manage that. It was still early and he wanted to ease into things. She could be patient.
“I’ll see you Monday.”
“I look forward to it.” He shut her car door and remained at the front door as she pulled away.
The sadness that filled her with every lengthening mile seemed natural. Most lovers probably suffered such longing when they separated, not to mention how greedy she was for the physical part of their relationship.
As the weeks followed, she and Sawyer continued to meet on Mondays and Toni slowly accepted that her friendship with Susan was a private and important one. Sawyer did his thing throughout the week and she … well, she did hers.
With the holidays approaching there was always something to occupy her time. Wednesdays were her only free evenings, but even then, after she dropped Toni off at her dance class, Isadora attended yoga at the gym down the street.
While she’d worried seeing Sawyer one day a week might be difficult, she honestly couldn’t spare much more time for him. Her life was busy, if not with her own obligations. Toni was an energetic kid and that meant plenty of school meetings, countless social calls, after school clubs, and even the occasional sewing for recital costumes and such.
But there was a void. The pace of her life wasn’t dictated by her desires, but the desires of those in her life. Sawyer seemed the only thing in her world that was solely hers and even he was limited.
Lucian had received several college brochures in the mail and they were still piled in the library. Every time she entered that room, a cold and dark area that emanated hints of her father’s time in the house, the brochures taunted her.
Occasionally, she’d page through a few, imagining certain classes and considering signing up for one or two. But it never seemed the right time.
What would a couple classes prove anyway? If she ever wanted to earn an actual degree it would take years. Someone had to be there to pick Toni up from school, take her to her activities, and help her with algebra.
In the end, she tossed the brochures into the trash, preferring not to be taunted in her own home. By the time her schedule opened up the course calendars would all be different anyway. As a consolation, she used her spare time to find less demanding activities that brought her joy—gardening research, crafts, studying foreign cultures—hobbies she could call her own.
The Bishops declined her invitation to join them for Christmas, which was conveyed through Lucian since Mondays were more difficult when the boys were home on winter break. She and her siblings had the unspeakable pleasure of hosting their father and Tibet.
Though their father hadn’t been home in years, he suffered no awkwardness at dominating every square inch of the house. Lucian was outraged to learn that Tibet would be sleeping in what was once their mother and father’s bed, so he stayed with the Callahan’s over winter break.
The few times her brother visited the house a fight erupted, he and their father butting heads until one eventually backed down. It was no surprise the one to usually walk away was Lucian.
Isadora hated the tension that existed between the two of them, finding it sweltering. Lucian had given her a new laptop for Christmas and she wasn’t sure why she needed one. But being that her Monday nights were temporarily free, she found herself toying around with the state-of-the-art device and getting frustrated that she lacked the simplest skills in terms of technology. She did figure out how to manage the word processing program and that seemed just her speed.
Avoiding her father, she spent most of the holiday in her room writing a short story. It was nothing she would ever show anyone, just a silly tale of a girl who wanted to make something of her life and fall in love. The frippery passed the time. In the end, she saved it. But hid the story in a file marked PRIVATE then thought better of it and changed the file name to RECIPES—that seemed less tempting to wandering eyes.
Typing out her fantasies did nothing to make them turn into reality. She missed Sawyer and if her father and Tibet didn’t go back to France soon, she was going to lose her mind.
“I can’t wait for them to leave,” she confessed to Sawyer one evening as they spoke on the phone. “I need to get out of this house. Can’t we go somewhere?” Another drawback to having her father around was that it made Sawyer reluctant to see her.
“People will talk, bella, and we don’t want anything getting back to Christos. Imagine how unpleasant his stay would be then. How long is he in town?”
“I didn’t ask. I don’t know my place when he’s here. He tells Lucian how to think and Toni how to dress. The servants are quiet and everyone’s tense.”
“ You should get out.”
“I could come there,” she offered, desperate for an escape.
His voice held regret. “Slade’s home. He’s in and out so often I never know what his schedule is.”
“Oh.”
“Why don’t you go out with your brother? Have a drink and blow off some steam.”
“Lucian shouldn’t be anywhere they’re serving alcohol.”
“But you know he is, bella. Don’t carry responsibilities that aren’t yours. Just go have some fun. Be young for once.”
She frowned, not sure if she knew how to do that. “I—”
“Hold on, Slade’s coming down the steps.” The phone muffled and she recognized Slade’s voice in the background. “How long will you be?” Sawyer asked.
Slade’s answer was garbled. As she waited, hope flickered. Maybe Slade would go out for the night and she could sneak over to Sawyer’s—
Sawyer’s voice interrupted her train of thought. “An associate. I’ll see you later tonight.” The phone shifted. “Sorry about that.”
“Am I the associate?” she teased.
He chuckled. “Yes, I believe I’ll call you Susan .”
Her humor turned hollow, the joke not as funny as it should have been—something lost in the irony of another woman’s name.
Why was it okay to have a Susan but not an Isadora ? She knew the answer, of course. His association with her father and the friendship between Lucian and his son complicated things. It wasn’t just Sawyer who worried about their families judging them and interfering. She had concerns as well. Then there was the issue of their age difference, which might scandalize members of polite society. Whatever would they do!
Her phone beeped. “Now it’s my call waiting. Can I put you on hold?”
“Sure.”
She flipped to the other line. “Hello?”
“Isa, I’m going out tonight. You should come.”
She hesitated, surprised by her brother’s invitation and his coincidental timing. “Where are you going?”
Lucian was leaving in a day or two and this might be the last chance she had to see him before spring. She’d hardly spent any time with him since their father’s arrival.
“A little jazz bar in Folsom. It’s a quieter crowd. Good people. You’d like it.”
Rather than lecture him on the wrongs of drinking underage, she thought of Sawyer’s advice about acting her age. “When are you leaving?”
“I can pick you up in an hour. You in?”
She smiled, the idea becoming more appealing to her the deeper it sank in. “Okay.”
“Great.” He sounded surprised, but pleased. “I’ll see you in a little bit.”
She flipped back to Sawyer. “Apparently I’m going to try my hand at that twenty-three thing. That was Lucian. He’s taking me to a jazz bar.” When he didn’t respond she checked to make sure she hadn’t lost him. “Sawyer?”
“I’m here… Good. That’s good.”
For as much as he encouraged her to get out and do things people in their twenties did, he didn’t seem as thrilled when she actually took his advice.
“I’m sure we won’t do anything crazy. Lucian said it would be a quiet atmosphere. Is Slade meeting him, do you know?”
“No, Slade has a date.”
“Oh.”
Maybe Shamus would be there. She didn’t like imagining her brother drifting off to talk with some young woman at a private table and leaving her stranded at the bar alone. She wanted to go out, but not without a wingman.
“You’ll enjoy yourself, bella.” His words were encouraging, but his voice held reservations. He didn’t sound like his usual self.
It had been five weeks since they’d started sleeping together on a regular basis and sometimes he’d dropped hints about her possibly meeting other people—male people. But she believed he was growing used to her and part of him would be disappointed if she met someone more … permanent.
Lacking the energy to decipher his feelings at the moment, she focused on her first priority—getting out of her house.
“I better get going.”
They made their goodbyes and she avoided her father and Tibet as she made her way up the stairs to change.
As she waited for Lucian, she entertained the idea of confiding in her brother, asking his opinion of Sawyer, but in the end she decided to keep her promise and keep their relationship a secret.
Lucian might have helpful advice, but he might also find the whole thing disturbing. She wasn’t prepared to face that sort of judgment or chance what she and Sawyer had. Right now, this was enough.