I didn’t have to ask who the newcomer was. They had the same dark eyes, full lips, and olive skin. She burst with life and color while he looked like he’d been sucking on a rotting lemon since he escaped from the womb, but the similarities were undeniable.
“Gabriel Valencia, COO of Hiraya Hotels.” Isabella’s brother gave me a thin smile. “We need to talk.”
Fifteen minutes later, I settled into a chair in Gabriel’s office.
Hiraya Hotels was headquartered in Los Angeles, but it operated hotels throughout the state. As COO, Gabriel must have an office in most, if not all, of them.
We eyed each other warily across his desk.
It wasn’t how I’d pictured meeting Isabella’s family, but at least he’d interrupted me before I committed several felonies and a murder.
“First, I must apologize for the unorthodox manner in which I approached you,” Gabriel said stiffly. “We place utmost value on our guests’ privacy. However, I’m notified whenever a VIP checks into any of our hotels. Given the circumstances, you must understand why I sought you out when I saw your name.”
“By circumstances, I assume you mean the National Star hit pieces?” I refused to call them articles. Articles required a modicum of objectivity; the most recent publication was libel. Once my lawyers were through with them, there wouldn’t be much of the Star left. I’d make sure of it.
Victor got his short-term victory, but he’d made a crucial long-term mistake.
Gabriel’s mouth flattened further into a granite line. “Because of you, photos of my sister are splashed all over that rag. They’re dragging my family’s name through the mud and hounding our hotels, our corporate offices, our personal lines.” As if on cue, his office phone rang with a shrill noise. He ignored it. “The article just went live, and it’s already started.”
“I’m sorry you’re dealing with harassment, but that’s a National Star issue,” I said calmly. “I didn’t leak those photos to them, nor did I have anything to do with their most recent publication.”
The one where they revealed that Isabella was an heiress to the Hiraya Hotels fortune.
I’d been so incandescent over the disgusting lies that I’d overlooked the bombshell. Now, the realization over Isabella’s identity sank in with diamond clarity.
Why had she kept it a secret? Did her friends know the truth, and I was the only one in the dark?
Unease formed a knot in my chest.
“Perhaps not, but she wouldn’t be in this situation if it weren’t for you,” Gabriel said. “We’ve never met, but I know your reputation. I thought you were above taking advantage of your employees.”
My jaw tightened. This was the third time my character had been called into question today, and I was getting damn sick of it.
“I didn’t take advantage of her,” I said coldly. “It was a consensual relationship. I have never coerced a woman into doing anything they didn’t want to.”
“Was or is?”
I paused. I didn’t know how Isabella wanted to handle things with her family, but my silence was answer enough.
Gabriel’s nostrils flared. “She’s dated men like you before,” he said. “Rich, charming, used to getting what they want. Happy to keep her a secret until shit hits the fan. Isabella seems tough, but she’s a romantic at heart, and as her brother, it’s my job to protect her, including from herself. She has a habit of making bad decisions.”
My hand closed around the edge of my armrest. Punching my girlfriend’s brother in the face probably wasn’t the best move, but I hated how he infantilized her. She might’ve kept secrets from me, but after meeting Gabriel, I could understand why. I wouldn’t want anyone to know I was related to him either.
“She’s an adult.” I strove for calm. “Her decisions, good or bad, are her own. You don’t have any right interfering in her life.”
“I didn’t before and look what happened. That mess with Easton. Getting fired from Valhalla. Getting involved with you.” Gabriel drummed his fingers on his desk. “Do you want to explain to me why you—the Young heir—are running around New York City with my little sister when you could have any woman you want?”
Because she’s beautiful, smart and funny. Because seeing her smile is like watching the sun rise, and being with her is the only time I feel alive. No other woman compares.
“The fact you have to ask,” I said quietly, “proves how much you undervalue her.”
I caught the briefest glimpse of surprise before Gabriel’s expression shuttered again. “You might think you’re different from the other men, but you’re not,” he said. “Stay away from Isabella. She doesn’t need another opportunistic asshole ruining her life. This is your first and last warning.”
“And if I don’t?” I asked pleasantly.
His cool expression matched mine. “You’ll find out what happens soon enough.”
The threat barely touched me. Gabriel could try to browbeat me all he wanted, but I’d dealt with much worse than overprotective brothers. If Isabella wanted me gone, she’d tell me herself. She didn’t need other people fighting her personal battles for her.
However, one thing Gabriel said stuck with me through the rest of the afternoon and well into the night.
Who the hell is Easton?
ISABELLA
Iholed up in my apartment and ignored all my calls, texts, and emails for two whole days. They were relentless—my family, my friends, the media. Some meant well, others less so. Regardless, I couldn’t scrounge up the energy to face any of them.
The only time I interacted with the outside world was through my work with Alessandra, who thankfully kept our exchanges professional and didn’t ask about the National Star revelations. After the identity reveal, the tabloid continued publishing articles and rumors, most of which were blatant lies.
I went to rehab for a cocaine addiction (I’d volunteered there during college). I’d slept with previous employers to get hired (they fucking wished). I had an orgy with an entire MLB team after the World Series a few years back (I served them during their celebratory night out and had one round of drinks with them).
The claims were so ridiculous I dismissed them out of hand. If someone was gullible enough to think I had a secret orgy-induced love child stowed away in Canada, that was their problem.
However, the truths were much harder to swallow.
Other than a string of short-lived bartending stints and even shorter-lived odd jobs, she has embarrassingly few accomplishments to her name…
Heiress or not, she’s far from his usual Ivy League-educated type.
Nausea curdled my stomach.
I tucked one hand beneath my thigh and bounced my knee as Kai returned from his kitchen with two mugs of tea.
Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his normally neat hair was tousled, like he’d run his fingers through it one too many times. Tension bracketed his mouth and lined the broad planes of his shoulders.
My heart wrung itself at his obvious exhaustion.