Hardwired(64)

I took a steadying breath and tried to steer us back to business. “You mentioned that we might find ways to work together. I wondered what you had in mind.”

He smiled. “Well, you’re the social expert. What did you have in mind?”

The tension backed off a little as I switched into work mode. I questioned him on the mechanics of his marketing strategy, the details of which he knew very little, but overall I had a better sense of how his departments were structured under each publication. I could think of a few ways we could dovetail our paid service with their established marketing efforts.

We spent the next hour or so discussing the logistics of cross promoting between his publications using Clozpin’s tools. The plan sounded promising, and Isaac seemed receptive. I agreed to put together a proposal outlining the options we discussed.

Once my personal life was off the table, the conversation was productive, enjoyable even. We polished off the Pinot Grigio and I recommended some other spots in Boston for him to try next time he was in town. A silence fell over the table as we waited for the check to come. I checked my phone for the time. Nearly three hours had passed. Blake would be furious.

By the time we left the restaurant, the sun had gone down and I was more relaxed, thanks to the wine. The air was warm but not stifling. I stepped out onto the street, orienting myself and twisting back to Isaac to ask him which way he was headed. With the movement, I lost my balance and tumbled. Isaac grabbed me and pulled me tight to his chest.

“I had a great time with you tonight, Erica.” His voice was low and gravelly.

The sound might have melted another woman but it raked over me like nails on a chalkboard. Nothing felt right about it, even after ending the dinner on such a positive note.

“Thanks, Isaac, but I—”

He muffled my protest, pressing an unexpected kiss into my lips. I froze as he plunged his tongue into my mouth and grabbed my ass, grinding his hip into me. I shrieked into his mouth as I tried to find my footing and push him away, but he held me firmly in place.

I tried to twist away, alarms going off everywhere. Adrenaline surged through me in a potent rush. My body buzzed with the impulse to fight, to get him off me as quickly as possible. My mind shouted commands, but against every instinct, I hesitated, hoping he’d just leave me be.

“Why don’t we go back up to the hotel?” he said.

“Let me go, Isaac.” Please. I can’t do this again. Please.

He laughed, a wicked sound that sliced through me. “You think Landon gives a shit about you, don’t you?”

I seethed with anger and prepared to knee him in the balls when he froze.

“Perry.”

The deep voice emerged from behind me. Isaac let me go, immediately creating space between us and backing away toward the stone wall of the building. In a flash Blake was on him, pinning him by the throat to the building.

Isaac sputtered out a string of apologies. “She tripped, I just caught her. It was nothing, I swear.”

“It didn’t look like nothing.”

I glanced up and down the street. Night had fallen and we were alone. I struggled to breathe as the aftermath of the panic racked through me, but I kept reminding myself we were safe. Blake was here, and by the looks of it, Isaac didn’t have a chance. In a matter of seconds, he’d been reduced to a pathetic puddle of apologies while Blake squeezed him tighter, threatening him to make one wrong move.

“She’s mine, Perry. And if you lay another hand on her, you won’t have hands. Is this clear?”

“Yes. Yes, definitely.” He loosened his grip just enough to slam him back, causing Isaac to cough, clawing at Blake’s hand around his throat.

I’d never seen him so angry, not like this.

Blake finally released him. “Leave,” he ordered.

Isaac disappeared down the street toward the Plaza. Blake turned to me, his face cold as stone.





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN





I followed Blake down the street to where his sleek sports car was parked. How long had he been stalking me? How had he even known where we were meeting? His uncanny knowledge about my whereabouts was unsettling, but I wasn’t about to bring it up now.

He opened the door for me, a mere gesture I guessed because he didn’t say a word to me as he joined me in the car and sped the few blocks back to the apartment. We stepped out and I stopped him at the entryway.

“Are you angry with me?” I asked.

“I’m not happy about finding you in a lip lock with that fucking guy, if that’s what you mean.”

“He just—I didn’t want that.”

“I know that, but you wouldn’t have been in that situation if you’d listened to me.”