Isaac walked over and, with his uninjured hand, pulled Natalie into his arm.
"Wife, have you cald down yet?"
Natalie looked at him, her dazed eyes full of confusion.
Isaac’s lips still held that sa smile.
He was always strikingly good-looking, those bedroom eyes could make anyone lose their mind.
If he wanted, he could make any woman fall for him without even trying.
He took Natalie over to sign the papers; one sheet changed her from an attempted murderer to a couple having a lovers’ spat.
Coming out of the station, Isaac switched faces in a heartbeat.
Coldly shoved Natalie into the passenger seat, and right in front of her, put the call on speaker and dialed Timothy Vaughn.
"Hey, Isaac."
"Uncle." Isaac held up his phone, gave Natalie a sideways glance, his thin lips frosty: "Say again what you just told ."
On the other end, Timothy went silent for a few seconds. Then his helpless voice ca through:
"Isaac, I swear I didn’t do it on purpose. I promised you first, but it was soone from the Lynn family. I had to operate on them first."
"So, Uncle, to you, people from the Lynn family matter more than what I say, huh?"
"Hey? Isaac, you angry? I’m sorry, really. How about you send the patient’s info again and I’ll make ti to arrange..."
The wound on Isaac’s arm throbbed faintly; he gave a cold laugh: "Forget it."
He hung up. Isaac tossed the phone onto the console, pinched Natalie’s chin between his long fingers, and spat out each word:
"Heard that? Got it? You—I’ve slept with you. The call—I made it. As for your shit not getting done, that’s my uncle’s fuck-up. If you want to go hack soone up, you should go to the hospital and take him out."
Natalie pressed her lips together.
"Letting you sit in the station for two hours—that was to teach you a lesson."
Isaac let go of her chin, his voice ice-cold: "Even I’m not safe from your knife, huh? You’ve got so balls!"
He rolled down the window, lit up a cigarette, his sharp profile half-hidden in the smoke, glancing at the woman frozen in the passenger seat, impatience in his tone: "Why are you still here? Get out!"
"Can you help just one more—" Natalie didn’t get to finish.
"No." Isaac shot back without a pause.
Natalie looked up at him, a crack forming on her chilly, beautiful face.
Isaac blew a ring of smoke at her, his tone mocking: "Last ti sucked. Zero thrill. I’m not up for a second round. You’re on your own. Get out!"
Natalie clenched her fingers, shoved the door open and got out.
Isaac slamd the accelerator, the blue Bugatti vanished into the night in a flash.
...
"Isaac, got a ga tonight. You coming?"
"Send the address."
Isaac pushed open the VIP room door; the place was already buzzing.
He’d barely sat down when Franklin Finch leaned in, pointed at Scott Quinn making a call and said:
"Quinn chased that campus queen for over half a year—finally made it these last couple days. I saw her once, damn, she’s hot! Ice cold, though. He’s bringing her over soon, wait and see."
"Not interested in leftovers."
Isaac poured himself a drink, swirling the glass with his slim fingers, lazily slouched on the couch.
Franklin laughed and cursed: "Who the hell ant that! Just take a look, who said you have to score? Plus, Quinn worked his ass off for this, you think he’d let you steal her?"
Franklin grinned even wider, lowered his voice: "But rumor is, he hasn’t actually gotten her yet."
"All this gossip’s gonna kill you one day."
Isaac sipped his drink, eyes barely open.
Except for Franklin, he didn’t know the others all that well tonight, so he figured he’d hang for a bit then bounce.
On the other side, Scott Quinn laughed and chatted with a few guys, soone ribbing him:
"Quinn, how long you planning to keep the whole Platonic romance thing going? Girl’s smoking hot but won’t let you nail her, maybe she’s frigid?"
"Yeah, is she the cold one or is it Quinn that’s not up to the job?"
"Quinn, I picked up so good shit recently, want a sample?"
"Get lost!" Quinn nearly flipped the table.
He tapped away on his phone, finished a ssage, and muttered, "Shit! I’m about outta patience. Her relative needs surgery—I tricked her, told her I could help sort it out, and that’s the only way I got her to co out. Once I sleep with her, it’s settled."
"Ha, so you’re planning to get laid for free?"
Quinn snorted: "Once she’s not a virgin anymore, you think I care if her relative croaks?"
Isaac stopped with his glass halfway to his lips at those words, eyes flickering up.
Thought: No way—it can’t be that freaking coincidental.
About ten minutes later, Scott Quinn suddenly got up and left.
Soon, he returned with a girl in jeans and a hoodie, long straight black hair.
Isaac saw her face, his eyebrow arched, an amused smile spread across his lips.
Damn. Really—just that kind of luck.
Natalie followed Quinn in, glanced up and caught sight of Isaac. Her body tensed, eyes flinched, but she quickly pulled herself together.
"Hey, you’re here!"
"Sit down! Quinn, hurry up and pour!"
"Nat doesn’t drink, don’t ss with her." Quinn grabbed Natalie a fresh-squeezed juice, turned and spoke gently to her.
Natalie seed distracted.
She hadn’t expected Scott Quinn and Isaac to know each other.
The lighting in the room was dim.
Natalie glanced in Isaac’s direction without thinking, and t his bedroom eyes—he looked at her half amused, half mocking, a wicked glint in his gaze.
Natalie frowned faintly, sensing trouble ahead.
Later, drinking gas started, shouting and dice flying.
When it was Isaac’s turn to shake, he bit his cig, rolled up his sleeves, showing off lean forearm muscles, a pale pink scar cutting across—hard to miss.
"Isaac, what happened to you?" Franklin Finch pointed at the scar, shocked.
Natalie instinctively gripped her glass harder.
Isaac glanced at his own arm, eyes narrowing, playing it cool: "Soone cut ."
"Soone cut you? Who the hell?"
Who’d dare go after Second Young Master Vaughn?
Must have a death wish.
"So chick."
"What chick? What happened?" Franklin sounded genuinely curious, urged Isaac to spill.
"She wanted to get my uncle to do a surgery for her. My uncle botched it; surgery never happened. She thought I screwed her over, so she ca at with a knife."
"Damn! That girl’s got guts!" Franklin slapped his leg.
Suddenly paused.
This story sounds kind of familiar...
The room went weirdly quiet; the vibe got tense.
Scott Quinn’s face looked awful.
After a beat, he clenched his teeth and stood, turning to Natalie: "Nat, co out with for a sec."
Natalie put her glass down on the coffee table, stood up, followed Quinn out.
As she stepped past the door, she heard a man snicker behind her.
She didn’t need to look—she knew exactly whose laugh that was.
At the end of the hallway, Quinn lit a smoke, silently puffed away.
When he was almost done, he asked, "Nat, that girl Isaac was talking about—was that you?"
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