Page 10 of Scarred Ruin

There weren’t adequate words in the English language to describe the beauty of the woman standing in front of me. She wasn’t just beautiful in a traditional sense. She was an anomaly. When the light hit the sharp angles of her cheekbones, my breath caught.

Certainly, a response I wasn’t used to experiencing.

Seeing the way others looked at her, including the disheveled man attempting to command her attention, sparked something dark and possessive in my chest. She was mine, and the realization of how deeply I craved her, not just her touch, but all of her presented a dilemma.

My original intentions were to engage in a conversation and nothing more for assessment purposes. Suddenly, I was starving and it would seem she was the only woman capable of satisfying my needs.

No matter how depraved or ill timed.

As if sensing my gaze wasn’t entirely professional, her long dark eyelashes skimmed across her porcelain cheeks as she dared offer the same heated look I was undoubtedly presenting.

It had taken my brother Roman only two days to discover the identity of my guardian angel, doing so on the day she’d been discharged from the hospital. She’d taken a bullet for me, something only my soldiers would even consider doing.

And she’d done so without hesitation, racing across the street blindly while an enemy had had full intention of either running me down with their heavy sedan or pumping bullets into my brain.

While an old friend and councilor had lost his life, mine had been spared. I’d held her in my arms while she’d peered up at me, unafraid of the monster hovering over her. The moment she’d touched my face, calling me beautiful, hers had become etched in the dark reaches of my mind.

Someone who’d haunted my waking hours even while sleep had evaded me.

Her photograph on the company’s website hadn’t done her justice. Neither had my memory of her. Now, her stunning face with high cheekbones, an aristocratic nose, and soft lips would remain forever etched in my mind.

Little did she know that in crossing my path, hers had irrevocably changed.

My attendance at the gala had been an afterthought, an event I’d wanted no participation in. Much like being involved with the trust, I’d initially planned on remaining mostly in the background. Yes, I’d already handpicked the architectural firm after months of searching for the correct fit given the medical campus had been my idea, my baby.

However, other than money and adding my approval to the various stages of the project, I’d been reminded by those I’d allowed into the trust I wasn’t necessarily qualified to make certain decisions.

After learning her identity, I’d changed my mind.

Now I would be the lead, the only person within the trust she or her team members would deal with.

Isabel Dayne.

Cornell graduate in architecture, leading her class of seventy percent men, interning at a highly respected architectural firm in New York prior to receiving two dozen offers from some of the most well-known firms in the country. From what I’d ascertained, she’d settled on Charleston for the weather or the beaches and not from the offer received from Graham Taylor Associates.

They’d low-balled her, which indicated a heightened level of integrity.

I’d had the firm checked through sources impossible for typical clients to utilize. The two founding members were brilliant and underrated as far as I was concerned.

When I’d learned about Isabel’s sister and the care she’d provided at such a young age, the choice of which firm to award the contract to had been easy.

Then circumstances had driven a complication into the scenario.

She missed nothing, already recognizing my face even though she’d been in shock and the incident altering everything occurred at night.

I felt the weight of her stare even now, words unnecessary for carrying the weight of my message to all those attempting to interfere.

Stay far away unless you desire a taste of my wrath.

As the man walked away after being appropriately warned, Isabel slowly placed one hand on her hip. “Do you always do that?”

“What was I doing?”

“Threatening those who annoy you?” She followed the trail of the man as he pushed his way through the crowd, clearly unnerved given he stumbled twice.

“I never find a need to threaten people. I simply state the obvious. Unless I misspoke and you were looking forward to spending additional time with a man whose only intention is acquiring a room at the Colonial Inn, a seedy motel he’s used before.”

A few seconds passed before she reacted in any way, let alone providing a response. “If my colleague had been stupid enough to make that offer, he would have learned that I do make threats and always follow through with them as needed.”