Chapter 13: Suite on the Boss: Chapter 12

Beautifully dressed guests mill about on a wooden deck overlooking the beach below. There’s a pool house with wide-open glass doors, and inside is a bar, complete with a bartender busy mixing drinks.

And there’s an infinity pool.

It curves along the edge of the deck, and I suspect that if I were to lie down on a sun lounger, the edge of the pool would blend seamlessly into the ocean.

“This place is stunning,” I say to Isaac.

He nods. “It cost my brother an arm and a leg, but it’s worth it.”

“Should we— Oh.” I catch sight of a golden retriever with a wagging tail racing through the throng of people, a stolen shawl hanging from its jaw. “Look at that dog go.”

“Yeah, my brother and his wife have two of them. One’s an actual guide dog, and the other was supposed to be but failed his exam.”

That makes me smile. “Let me guess, the one we just saw is the school dropout?”

“Definitely.”

We head to the bar and get drinks, and then it’s on—the networking. Just like we’d done at the benefit.

But it’s even more apparent here how little Isaac Winter needs to do to work a room. Everyone wants to say hello. Everyone wants to talk to him. And he’s warmer here, different somehow, asking people about their families, their children, and their parents.

These are people the Winters have known most of their lives, I suspect. Friends of family and members of the same circle.

“This is Sophia,” he says, introducing me to everyone we talk to. The eyes that turn to me, each and every time, are curious.

I give them all a wide smile and lean into Isaac just a little. Yes, we’re together. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Isaac handles the conversations well, includes me easily in topics, and it flows with the practiced ease of people who’ve mastered the art of small talk. We talk about the rising interest rates, the best place to summer, and how to master kite surfing—something Isaac’s apparently tried more than once. Topics flow from the latest production put on by the New York Opera to the unusual heat wave and back around—as if it’s inevitable—to the rising interest rates.

We’re halfway through the group by the pool when Isaac puts a hand on my lower back, pulling me aside. “Let me introduce you to my brother.”

“I’d like that.”

The man we approach is not someone I’ve ever met before, and yet I instantly recognize him. The family resemblance is there in the dark hair and the even darker eyes. Anthony is rougher around the edges, somehow, his face equally striking but less classically handsome. And while he’s broader across the shoulders, he’s not quite as tall as Isaac.

“Anthony,” Isaac says.

His brother turns to us. “You made it.”

“Didn’t I promise I would?”

Anthony’s eyes drift to me. “Hello,” he says. “You must be Sophia.”

“Yes. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I say and extend a hand. If he knows my name, they must have spoken about me beforehand. “You and your wife have a beautiful house.”

“Thank you,” he says and looks at Isaac. “Well played, man.”

“Think Summer will back off?”

“Most likely,” Anthony says. He looks at me, and his smile turns rueful. “I don’t know if my dear brother has told you, but my wife works as a matchmaker.”

“I’ve heard about that, yes.”

“My brother has been her primary target for a solid year now.”

“Poor Isaac,” I say, and Anthony laughs. “Good thing I’m here, then.”

“Yes, and don’t leave his side,” Anthony says. He gives me an appraising look. “You’re from New York?”

“No, I’m from Marhill. It’s a small town upstate.”

“Oh,” he says. “That’s great.”

I don’t get a chance to ask why that is because a beautiful blonde woman comes up beside him. Her blue eyes dance between me and Isaac.

“Why, hello!” she says. “I’m sorry I haven’t had a chance to say hi yet. How are you, Isaac?”

“I’m good.” He leans in to kiss his sister-in-law on the cheek. “This is Sophia, the woman I’ve told you about. Sophia, this is Summer.”

“Welcome,” Summer says. An entirely genuine smile takes up most of her face. “It’s so lovely to meet you.”

“Likewise. You have a beautiful—”

“Where did you two meet?”

“Oh.” I look at Isaac. “It’s a funny story, actually. We were playing tennis at the same time, and he had the court next to mine.”

“She kept hitting the ball over to my side,” Isaac says. His face is neutral, but there’s a tick to his jaw that hints at a suppressed smile. “Great icebreaking technique, I must say.”

I elbow him. “That’s slander. I might not have a slice down, but I can keep the ball on my own court.”

“You’re right,” he says, eyes on mine. “The truth is, I saw her play and couldn’t resist saying hello.”

I nod. “Our trainers got a bit annoyed. I think we spoke more than we played that hour.”

Summer sighs. “Oh, that’s the perfect way to meet.”

I look away from Isaac’s dark eyes and the amused glint hidden within. “Yes, it worked out well for us so far.”

Isaac’s hand returns to my lower back. I like it there, a warm and comforting weight. “Are the others from Acture here?”

Anthony nods and gestures to the far end of the pool. “Tristan and Carter are over there, and St. Clair said he’d show up, but I haven’t seen him yet.”

An icy tendril snakes down my spine. St. Clair, as in Victor St. Clair. The CEO and boss of my company, and the person who had requested that Isaac’s project be prioritized and given the utmost attention.

I suppose being Isaac’s date qualifies for both… but not the way it had been intended.

“We’ll go say hello,” Isaac says, and Anthony nods. “Is Theo inside?”

Summer nods. “He’s in his room with the nanny, happy as a clam.”

“I’ll go in and see him later,” Isaac says. “That okay?”

“Of course,” Anthony says. “Enjoy the party, Sophia.”

“Your nephew?” I ask Isaac as we’re walking away.

“Yes,” he says. The idea of him sneaking away from a party to see a baby makes me smile. I wish I could see it, how he would be in those moments. What his voice would sound like.

“Here we are…” he murmurs. “We’ll just say a quick hello.”

I’m introduced to two men and their wives. Tristan, Carter, Audrey, and Frederica, whom everyone calls Freddie. They’re seated around a low firepit with an assortment of drinks spread out in front of them.

“Isaac,” one of the men says. He’s got a distinguished look, not unlike Isaac’s, but the smile he gives us is open and friendly. Tristan, I think. “It’s good to see you again. You’re remembering to do other things than just work?”

His wife bumps his shoulder with hers. “I don’t think you’re the best person to lecture anyone else about workaholism,” she tells him.

Tristan laughs. “Maybe not.”

“I know for a fact that none of you are,” Isaac says. “Case in point, Audrey, I saw your latest piece for the Globe. It was excellent.”

The woman with beautiful curly hair lights up. “Thank you! It was a lot of fun to write.”

“You’re a journalist?” I ask.

Isaac and I have a seat with the group, and the conversation spins on, genuinely interesting. Audrey’s job is fascinating, and it doesn’t take long until I learn that Tristan was Exciteur’s CEO before St. Clair, before I worked there.

The conversation comes to an abrupt halt when a party photographer stops by our table, camera in his right hand. The others rise, familiar with the practice. Isaac’s arm lands around my waist.

“Thanks,” he murmurs.

“For what?” I whisper back.

He’s looking straight ahead, at the camera. “For being here.”

Right. For ensuring his family stops nagging him about dating. Driven by adrenaline and champagne, and maybe something less, something I’m not brave enough to put a name on yet, I press my lips briefly against his cheek.

The photographer’s camera makes a few audible snaps. “Excellent,” he says before wandering off in search of new victims. “Thank you.”

The reality of what I’ve just done hits me. “I’m sorry, Isaac. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, that was crossing a line. I’m sorry.”

His eyes darken. “Sophia,” he says. “Never apologize for kissing me.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Now,” he says, looking over my shoulder, “someone just arrived that I think you’d like to meet.”

A couple has just arrived. The man is familiar. Not from seeing him in person, God no, but from pictures and company memos. The woman beside him must be his wife. She’s beautiful in an understated way, wearing a simple white dress that accentuates her hair.

“Oh,” I say again. “I don’t think he’ll know who I am.”

“Probably not,” Isaac says, the picture of honesty. “He’s not the best at remembering faces. Or names, for that matter. You’re fine.”

“He controls my fate, in a way. At least my professional one, at any rate, and that’s everything to me right now. And he doesn’t even know who I am.” I shake my head, my mind racing. “Maybe that’s how your employees think about you.”

Isaac takes a moment to answer. “Maybe so.”

“I’m sorry. That might not be true.”

“It probably is,” he says with a sigh. “I don’t like the idea of my employees thinking that way, but I can’t deny they probably do.”

“It’s the nature of the game,” I say. “If it helps, I’ve spoken to a ton of your employees over the past few weeks, and not a single one has had anything negative to say about you or the executive team.”

He raises an eyebrow. “That might just prove how scared they are to talk.”

“Do you genuinely believe that?”

“No,” he says, looking at me. “And you have nothing to worry about with St. Clair, or your job for that matter.”

“Well, the pitch I’m preparing for your company is a pretty big one for me,” I confess. “For my career, too, if we were to nail it.”

His face is serious. “So I’ve gathered.”

“That’s why I can’t resist picking your brain whenever I get the chance to.”

“It’s yours to pick,” he says.

“Until midnight, at least?”

“Until then,” he agrees, lips curving. “But I suspect I’ll—”

“Isaac.” There’s a shape at our side, and then Anthony comes into focus. His eyes are intense on his brother. “She wasn’t on the guest list, but she’s here regardless.”

“Who?”

“Cordelia. Summer just saw her come in with her parents.”

Isaac doesn’t look any less composed at this news, his face set in the usual lines of competence and command. “I see.”

“Her parents were invited, at our parents’ request.”

“Naturally,” Isaac says. “They’ll be the ones to spend time with the Jacobs tonight, too.”

“Cordelia must have come with them, but honestly, I have no problem telling her to fuck off,” Anthony says.

Isaac huffs out a half laugh. “And ruin the hard work this party is doing to change your recluse reputation? Absolutely not.”

“I don’t care.”

“I know you don’t,” Isaac says and puts a hand on his brother’s arm. “But I do.”

“Fine.” Anthony looks over his shoulder. “This is when I wish I could see clearly at a distance.”

The brothers exchange a few more heated sentences, and then Anthony disappears, weaving his way through the crowd. For the first time I notice that one of the dogs is glued to his side. Must be the one who passed the exam.

“So,” I say carefully. “Would it be too intrusive of me to ask?”

Isaac’s eyes roam the crowd, almost like he’s trying to spot the mystery woman. But then, he takes my hand and pulls me into the comfort of the pool house. We’re in full view of the crowd, but the music is quieter here, the sound of a dozen conversations dampened.

“She’s someone from my past,” he says.

“An ex?”

“Yes.” He looks down at my empty champagne glass and, almost like his chivalry is on autopilot, takes it from me. He sets it and mine down on the empty bar. “We were engaged, years ago.”

My eyes widen. “You were engaged?”

“Yes. We ended it a few months before the wedding.”

“Why?” The question slips out of me of its own accord.

Isaac takes a moment to respond. “My brother saw her with someone else.”

The words hit me like a weight of bricks, a realization and an understanding. He’s gone through the same thing I have. I made his check-out hell, he’d said about Percy. It all makes sense now.

“Oh,” I whisper.

Isaac sighs. I’ve never seen him run his hand through his hair in agitation, but he does it now. “It was a long time ago.”

“Do you miss her?”

“No,” he says. “I haven’t for years.”

“And she’s here?” Irritation burns in my chest. “Your family invited her and her parents despite what happened?”

“Just her parents. They’re… well, the Jacobs own golf courses and a few smaller hotels.”

Several things flash through my mind at once. It was a marriage for the business, I think. He chose a partner who he thought could help the company. And his family still considers them more important for networking purposes than their son’s feelings.

He watches me process his words, eyes unreadable.

“Have you dated since?” I ask. My voice comes out heated. “Has she seen you with someone else?”

He shakes his head. “Not that I know of.”

I grip his wrist and pull him toward the archway, ensuring we’re in full view of the crowd. Slowly, giving him time to pull away, I reach up and grip the lapels of his suit jacket.

“Look out over the crowd,” I say. “Do you see her?”

Isaac frowns at me, but does what I’ve asked him. He’s close enough that I can make out those golden flecks in his eyes again. “Yes,” he says. “She’s spotted us.”

“Good. I hope you meant what you said earlier,” I whisper, and then I press my lips to his.

They’re soft and still under mine. I get the distinct impression that I’ve shocked him, and the only thing stopping me from pulling away is the knowledge that his ex is watching.

Damn, I’ve messed—

But then, he kisses me back. The hand resting on my waist grips me tight, and then he tugs me against the length of his body. Our heights are a perfect fit.

Neither of us has to bend.

He tastes good, like warmth and champagne and determination, and I shiver when his fingers dig into the soft flesh at my hip. I’d forgotten how nice, how heartbreakingly lovely, it is to be kissed like this.

Isaac lifts his mouth from mine, but I’m not ready to let go quite yet. My hands tighten on the lapels of his suit jacket, and he stays close, brushing his lips over my cheek.

“What,” he murmurs, “was that?”

“You’ve helped me with Percy,” I whisper. “It’s only fair I help you get some payback on your ex, too.”

It’s the truth and the reason I’d pulled him here, indignation like a second heartbeat beneath my skin. That he’d experienced what I’d experienced and had to face the person who did it at his own family’s parties over and over again.

But I’d forgotten about that the second he kissed me back.

Isaac’s hand loosens its tight, comforting grip on my waist. “Well…” he murmurs, his eyes darker than usual. “That’s considerate.”

“Yeah. That’s me.”

His mouth curls into a half smile. “I suppose that means I should thank you, Bishop.”

“Bishop,” I repeat. “You’ve stopped calling me Sophia. Why?”

He grabs a tendril of my hair and lets it run through his fingers. The back of his palm brushes my cheek. “It’s too-beautiful a name for too-beautiful a woman,” he says. “Bishop is safer.”