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When just over a year ago Isa finally joined Yara’s ‘dating app’, the Wall jumped on the chance and joined himself. He used a fake name, and due to numerous physical changes, his pictures were unrecognizable. Yara didn’t even figure out who exactly he was.
When that ended up being a false hope and his dear Isa fell into another useless relationship, the Wall began to calculate his next move. When her most recent man fucked up just as all the others had, he decided it was time. One way or another, she would be his. The Wall wouldn’t let her get away as she had all those years ago, but he would also never take her choice away.
Finally, his patience won out, and he got the call.
The call came around two weeks prior. He had Yara’s number saved, and it didn’t even ring once before he was hitting accept.
“Are you still interested in her?” Yara was a no-nonsense kind of person, and he could appreciate that.
“I am. I have not found anyone else that has piqued my fancy yet.”
Yara grumbled through the phone, “You can’t hurt her. And you will have to meet me in person first for an interview.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, and of course I would be more than happy to.”
“We won’t be reimbursing you for your expenses, and you will be meeting her in a mutual location.”
The Wall did his best to not appear too enthusiastic. He knew on paper he seemed like an upstanding citizen, and he needed Yara to believe that as well. “Of course, send me the details and I will be there.”
Less than twenty-four hours ago he “met” Yara in person and, as he suspected, she still didn’t recognize him. Now here he was, watching his Bella Isa from only feet away. She was still crowded by those two men: Oliver and Maddox. The obsession they both had to her was clear as day, and the Wall contained his scalding rage as Maddox shifted her into his side. Neither were good enough for her and they would both be problematic, but that was a matter for another day.
First things first, he had a reunion to attend.
Chapter eight
Izzy
We made it to the hotel, and I was officially lying across a large luxuriously comfortable bed in my outfit from the plane. I didn’t exactly remember how I got here, but I imagined Maddox or Oliver carried me.
At this point in our friendships, I wasn’t even embarrassed, just surprised either could handle my weight and were able to get me up here.
I fluttered my eyes a few times before meeting Oliver’s worried gaze.
“Maybe a bit less next flight?” His attitude did nothing to help the pounding that threatened to break apart my skull.
“Yes, boss man. You know how heights are for me though.”
His features softened. “I know,” he finally expelled.
He long since knew not to question me on why; when he visited home from his military tour, I suddenly hated heights. The last time he tried to push me on it, I wouldn’t talk to him for a week.
He moved to the side of the cushioned bed and leaned fully over me, his hair tickling my face as he appeared to have an internal battle. He finally settled on, “I’m worried. About you and about you going to the reunion.”
His lips were inches from my face and my gaze caught on their shape. Focused on what they would feel like. On how he would taste.
I jerked further back into the bed and grunted at him. I was so horny that even horribly hungover, my ever-active sex drive was holding the reins.
He stood back up to his full height, towering over me with an emotionless mask shrouding his features. There was another reason he was the face of our company past his good looks, he was a master at hiding any and all of his inner thoughts.
That was most definitely not a skill set I excelled in. Which is why he would be the one in charge of mingling at the reunion. Which, again, had me questioning why I even needed to go.
The reunion.
There were two distinguishable men that might be there.
One that I would run from and one that I wanted to run to.
Oliver knew this reunion wasn’t on my top priorities list. What I had kept, even from his protective self, was that there was a bit more to why I didn’t want to return. And I was trying my best to not let it slip, because he would lose his ever-loving shit.
