Page 12 of Isabelle’s Forbidden Love

“Welcome back, Mr. Carlisle. We missed you. The usual?” she purred.

“Yes.”

“It’ll be ready when you get here.”

He disconnected the call and put his cell phone back in his pocket. In a few hours, he would feel better, and then maybe he would be able to sleep peacefully without thoughts of Isabelle keeping him awake.

8

From the driver’s seat of her car, Isabelle watched as Orlando left the Mezzanine’s employee parking lot in his Hummer. She was still fuming. Orlando’s brush-off had hurt.

Everything had gone perfectly. Orlando had responded to her kiss with even more enthusiasm than she’d expected. His kiss had been passionate and made her want more instantly. Just like she felt that he too was up for more: his erection had been unmistakable. She’d never felt anything that big and hard pressed against her. It was proof that he was attracted to her. So how could he then claim that it was a mistake?

You’re Samson’s daughter. I can’t betray him like that.

The words still echoed in her mind. What did her father have to do with any of this? He would never stand in her way of a relationship, even if that meant that she would date one of her father’s employees. Orlando wouldn’t lose his job by having a relationship with her. Samson wasn’t a tyrant. He never judged anyone by their perceived class, standing in society, or their bank account. Yes, he wanted a good man for her, but that didn’t mean that this man had to be rich or powerful. As long as the man she was with loved her and treated her right, Samson would never try to break them apart.

Her father wasn’t an obstacle. She had to make this clear to Orlando. And she had to do this right away. Determined to make Orlando understand that their kiss wasn’t a mistake, she started the car and followed Orlando at a distance. She knew where he lived in Glen Park, so even if she lost him, she wasn’t worried.

However, after following his car for a few minutes, she realized that Orlando wasn’t driving home. His Hummer turned north toward Nob Hill and Pacific Heights. Where was he going?

Careful not to be seen, she used everything Scanguards had taught her about surveillance, until Orlando finally parked his car in front of a large house in Russian Hill. Isabelle stopped her Thunderbird behind a van and waited. Orlando hopped out of his Hummer, locked it, and walked up to the entrance of a large Edwardian house. He pressed against a door and disappeared inside.

Her breath hitched. This wasn’t his home. Who was he visiting at this time of night? A girlfriend? Her heart clenched. Was that the real reason why he’d brushed her off? Because he was already in a relationship, even though nobody at Scanguards knew anything about it? Did the quintessential loner have a lover?

She suddenly remembered what had transpired when Samson had been kidnapped on New Year’s Eve when visiting with Cain, the vampire king of Louisiana, who’d been staying at a rental in Russian Hill. When all of Scanguards had been mobilized, Orlando had been the first to show up to help. He’d claimed that he’d been in the area. It had been one of the reasons why her brother Grayson had suspected him of being involved in the kidnapping. As it turned out, Grayson had been wrong, and Orlando had indeed helped find the kidnappers.

Was this where he’d been that night? Shacked up with his lover, yet too secretive to reveal this information?

Isabelle continued looking at the house. Over five minutes had passed, but Orlando wasn’t coming back out. She couldn’t help herself. She had to find out who this other woman was. She needed to know whom she was competing with. She parked the car and got out. The night air was crisp and she could smell a whiff of rain in the air. It wouldn’t be a downpour, only a constant drizzle.

At the door to the building, she stopped and perused the small brass plaque next to the doorknob. Eva’s it said. This wasn’t a residential building. She put her hand on the doorknob and turned it. To her surprise, it wasn’t locked: another indication that this wasn’t a private residence. Nobody would leave the door to their home unlocked, not in this chic neighborhood, nor anywhere else in the city. People had too much to lose here.

Before she could change her mind, Isabelle entered the house and closed the door behind her. Soft music drifted to her ears. Ahead of her was a short dark corridor with a door at its end. No light came from the small window over the door, and it was quiet. She glanced at the stairs in front of her. They were lit with indirect lighting, inviting visitors to go upstairs.

The carpet on the stairs swallowed her footsteps, exuding an ambience she would have expected in an exclusive hotel or club. But what kind of club? Arriving at the top of the stairs, she quickly took in her surroundings: an opulent reception area was occupied by a provocatively dressed woman in her forties. She was human. She spoke into the phone, her voice pleasing and sultry.

Though she didn’t speak very loudly, Isabelle’s vampire hearing picked up every word.

“Of course, Mr. Jennings. Carol will be awaiting you as usual.” The woman glanced at her from under long lashes, assessing her, while she continued her telephone conversation. “Yes, lovely. Everything will be ready for you.”

She placed the receiver on the phone and cast an inviting look at Isabelle. Isabelle pasted a non-committal smile on her lips and approached.

“Good evening,” the human woman purred.

“Evening,” Isabelle replied, unsure how to proceed.

“What are you looking for, dearie? Man or woman? We cater to all tastes.”

Those few words explained everything she’d suspected when she’d overheard the woman’s telephone conversation. This was a brothel, or a sex club, or whatever these places were called. Why on earth would Orlando come here and pay for something he could get for free?

“Actually, a man,” Isabelle said, looking directly into the woman’s eyes to use a skill only vampires and vampire hybrids had: mind control. With it, she could influence this human to tell her what she wanted to know. “I believe he arrived only a few minutes ago.”

The woman tilted her head a little as if something wasn’t quite right, before she answered, “Uhm, yes.”

“His name is Orlando,” Isabelle continued.

“A very good customer, yes.”