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“Yes?” My curiosity is piqued.
“I know Evie and Michael are going to her birthday dinner tomorrow—she asked if I’d be able to go. Do you think, if we went together, we could join them?”
Fuck me. Taking her into the city is the last thing I should be doing. It’s not safe. But when she looks at me like that, and after trusting me with her body like she just did, I want to give her something in return. I’d love to give her the world. I will when it’s safe, but for now, surely, I can manage a night out.
“I suppose we can make that happen.”
“Thank you so much!” The joy that lights her face is so radiant it can likely be seen from space. I can’t imagine a greater honor in life than knowing I’ve facilitated such happiness.
I have to clear my throat of the mounting emotions surging up inside me. Hope and fear swirl into an intoxicating cocktail of anticipation. I have no idea what happens when we get to the bottom of the glass. Do we pour another round and toast to new beginnings? Or is the next round an attempt to drown our sorrows?
“Time to dry off before we prune,” I say, trying to distract myself from my sobering thoughts.
When we open the bathroom doors, there’s a picnic set up on the floor. I’d asked for the supplies to be brought down and am pleased they went ahead and set the scene. I would have preferred to be outside on the sky deck, since our picnics in the past were usually outdoors, but we would have ended up with hypothermia.
“A picnic!” Isa notes with delight.
“It would be better on a rooftop under the stars, but this will have to do.” I eye her, hoping to see some glimmer of recognition.
“I think this is perfect. I’m going to dive in as soon as I throw some clothes on.” She heads to the closet, not registering the reference to our frequent rooftop excursions as teens.
It’s disappointing, but I won’t stop trying. Not yet.
An hour later, we’ve devoured every morsel and are sitting with our backs against the side of the bed.
“I need to go up and check in with Drake before I call it a night. Do you want to come with me?”
Isa nods, then averts her gaze. “There’s something I’d like to do first, if that’s okay.”
“What’s that?”
“Can I check my email on your laptop?”
Storm clouds suddenly form over my head as I wrestle with doubts about why she needs to check her email. “You can, but I need to be here with you while you do.” I sound like an absolute dick, and I can’t help it. If it’s that important to her, then I feel compelled to know what these emails are about.
She sighs and nods.
I log into my computer and hand it over. She pulls up her Gmail and immediately opens an email from someone named Wolf. Instantly, my guard is up.
I skim the email and see it’s a request for fifty thousand dollars.
What the fuck is going on? Is she being scammed?
I can hardly believe what I’m seeing when she logs in to her bank account and initiates a wire transfer. The recipient already shows an established history of transactions, all of them enormous.
“Isa, who are you sending this kind of money to?” I have to watch my tone, which is dangerously close to outrage. Not at her. I’m pissed at the possibility someone is fleecing her of every dime she owns.
“I know how it looks, but I swear it’s not a problem. I’m a key part of a philanthropic organization. They rely heavily on me, which is why it was so important for me to stay in touch.” She’s flustered and refusing to make eye contact. Is she embarrassed? Or is she hiding something?
“Babe, that’s a shit ton of money. I get if you want to give your money to charity, but there’s no reason they should need emergency funds like that.”
She closes the laptop, resting her hand on the top as though that will keep the matter hidden. “It’s something I’ve been doing for years, okay? I promise there’s no reason for you to worry. Please, just leave it alone.” Finally, she brings her gaze back to mine, azure eyes softly pleading.
I nod with a frown, letting it go, at least, as far as she’s concerned. I won’t push her, but I will definitely have Michael do some digging. I need to know what the hell is going on.
CHAPTER 38
ISA
