Feathers and Thorne Series Books 1 - 3: The Complete Collection

Chapter Forty-Nine

Isabella

The office is stiff today without Tristan in his office. To my surprise, half of his stuff has already been packed up, and Carter has me sorting through a few things left over, either to put in boxes or to hand over to him. I feel guilty the entire time, feeling like everyone who walks by is blaming me for his firing.

Tristan made a mistake, and maybe he didn’t know Jacob would be there or—I try to come up with so many excuses that I already know Carter won’t hear me out over.

Ever since Aunt Anita told me more about Brooke, and Carter walked in on the conversation, it’s like he is constantly furious with anyone coming around me. He didn’t even seem to be happy with me being around Sam, and she’s harmless.

I look forward to our movie tonight after the dinner I have with Donovan and Carter.

Carter must be reading my mind because he knocks on the glass door, watching me pause in my deep lapse of thought between filtering through Tristan’s things. I push a box toward him full of Tristan’s personal photos and desk trinkets.

Carter Blackthorne turns his nose up at it. “Are you almost done here?” he purrs. “I had lunch brought in for the next meeting, and I want you to sit in and take notes.”

My brow furrows. I haven’t been quite sure what Carter does in this high-rise office, but I doubt gun-running criminals and unlawful entities in Manhattan like Carter don’t sell used cars or answer customer complaints. Out of curiosity, I wipe my brow and nod in confirmation.

“What about his personal stuff?” I ask. “Should I set it out in the hallway for him to come to get?”

“He’s not allowed in the building anymore,” Carter replies with a wave of his hand to signal his dismissal of this conversation. “Just leave it be. I’ll call Ernesto to pick it up and drop it off at his apartment.”

I sulk slightly, leaning back on my heels when I stand to flatten the creaks from my tight skirt. “You should take it to him. That way, you can talk and—”

His bold eyes go narrow. “Enough. Go grab a notebook from my office and meet me in the conference room in a few minutes. I’ll make you some coffee.”

I don’t even attempt to talk in rebuttal, pushing past him out of the office. He catches my arm instantly, bringing me to the solid wall of muscles that is his chest, and his lips purse in disdain. His anger is silent but never calm.

“You better lose this rebellious streak,” he snaps, his tone at a whisper. “Tristan is my problem, not yours.”

I roll my eyes. His grip strength intensifies on my bicep.

“Don’t make me spank you in this meeting, dove. I don’t want to be crass with you in this office.”

“Then let go of my arm,” I purr. He does so, straightening out his suit. “I just want you to have a good relationship with your cousin. He is the only friend you have, Carter.”

“That’s not true,” he bites.

I only shrug, feeling overwhelmed by his constant aggravation. “Fine, just ignore my suggestions then. You have no issue submerging yourself into my problems, but when it comes to me trying to help your relationship with Tristan, you shut down.”

His eyes widen with my confrontational tone. “I do not shut down. I am just kicking him out of here because I was protecting you, dove. Where is this frustration coming from? If he didn’t send you to the worksite, Jacob would have never come close to—”

I drop my head, not needing another reminder of how cruel Jacob can be. “Just forget it. You will only argue with me and then bend me over your desk. I don’t want to have this conversation anymore.”

When I move away, he follows me, pulling me by my hips into one of the only rooms in this office that isn’t surrounded by glass walls. He shoves me haphazardly against the storage closet wall, and I hiss, nearly frightened by his looming annoyance.

“You stay right there,” he barks, his volume abrasively close to my face. “You’re going to tell me where this is all coming from. I don’t understand it, dove. We had a great morning, and now all you want to do is bicker over the fact that I fired Tristan.”

I flinch, feeling my throat tighten while we’re trapped in this small, dark space.

“Please, dove. Explain it to me. There’s no bending you over my knee, no sex toys—no tricks or distractions. Just talk to me.”

I open my mouth, fighting back a snickering chuckle. “Now I can talk to you? You’ve shut me down for weeks, Carter. Ever since Anita mentioned Brooke, it’s like I can’t talk to anyone, and now you’re furious with Tristan over something Jacob did to me.”

“He sent you there to get hurt!”

I shiver, struggling to challenge a man so powerful and dominant. “Why do you even care?”

He steps back, his perfect bowtie lips parting agape in shock. “What the hell does that mean, dove?”

“Why do you care if I get hurt?” I pant. “Is it because I look like Brooke?”

He slams his fist into the wall nearby, breaking the drywall as it cracks and crumbles around his knuckles. I gasp a cry, fighting back a howl of fear. He’s breathless and weary, his eyes darker than anything I’ve ever seen before.

I could stay here and play nice and quiet mouse for Carter, but I can’t fight this bad feeling looming over my shoulders. He’s dangerous, I know that, but he’s also unraveling.

“I need to go,” I gasp, pushing past him.

I dive into the hallway, needing to create space between Carter and me. I’m not angry with him or necessarily afraid of him, but he’s getting more and more abrasive when it comes to me trying to help him. I just want Tristan to remain his close friend.

No matter what he did to get me in trouble.

I turn the corner too fast, looking at the ground and not the glass corner, running right into a wall of a man who catches us both from being tackled to the ground. His caramel eyes glint in the fluorescent lighting, and he furrows his brow.

When I attempt to peel myself out of his arms, I brace myself to tumble backward, one of my heels having snapped in the collision. He catches me a second time, his arms innocently looped around my waist.

Carter is two steps behind me when I realize his fists are clenched. “Let go of her right now.”

The guy makes sure I’m steady on one good heel before releasing me, his hands up as though to avoid a sexual harassment HR fine. He looks harmless enough, and it was my fault that I ran into him, but Carter still rips me away from his side at once.

“Carter,” I pant, more in shock than I do in pain. “Let go of me. You need to calm down.”

He tightens his grip while the man who I collided with furrows his brow.

“Easy, Blackthorne, it was an accident,” the man gusts. “What the hell is your problem?”

“Shut up, Micah,” he snarls. “You and your guys can go wait in the conference room.”

Micah rolls his eyes, breathing something sarcastic under his breath when he moves past my boss and me. Even if I don’t hear what he said, Carter obviously does, grabbing the broad man by his shoulder and driving a fist right into his face.

Micah stumbles backward, his associates catching him from falling over.

I gulp in disbelief, charging between Carter and Micah, knowing that our argument has now bled over into other parts of Carter’s business dealings. I have to stop him from unraveling, but I’m not sure I can.

“Please, stop,” I beg, fighting back tears. “Please, Carter, just relax for a minute.”

He grabs my blouse, yanking me hard against his chest so he can whisper, “You don’t ever run away from me. Do you understand me?”

I nod quickly, feeling my heart beat fast against his fist in my button-down shirt. “So… sorry.”

“Fuck this meeting,” Micah snarls, wiping blood from his nearly split lip. “Fuck our agreement, too. You can handle Jacob Lacey and this pathetic election by yourself, asshole.”

I keep myself pinned to Carter’s chest to keep him demure while Micah and his posse escape to the elevators. I realize shortly after they’re gone that he wasn’t interested in chasing after him to apologize or make right. Instead, Carter’s eyes warmly brush my face.

He even lets a light, charming smile slip across his lips while he tucks my hair behind my ear.

I’ve never been more afraid of Carter Blackthorne in my life, but in this silently calm and close interaction with him, I realize he’s more than willing to mow down any relationship in his life just to keep me in his possession. Without me, I don’t know if all this trouble would even exist.

“No other man touches you, dove,” he breathes, his hands meeting behind the small of my back. “Never.”

I nod, just to appease his heat right now, but it doesn’t explain his sudden shift of attitude today. He’s become so overly possessive of me that even a man trying to help me not stumble and fall is a threat to him. I want to address it, but I know better than to at this moment.

There’s no taming Carter today.

“My heel,” I grumble, needing an excuse to be released from his hold.

“I’ll take you to the store, and you can buy a new set right now,” he hums, reaching into his pocket for a set of keys. I want to agree, but I think he needs time to calm down without me next to him. “Let’s go, dove.”

“No,” I offer. “How about I just take the car to my apartment, and I’ll grab some I already own? Besides, if that meeting was important to stopping Jacob, you should stay back and handle it. Go have lunch, Carter. I’ll be back in an hour.”

Eventually, he agrees, though not without a time limit. He stalks away after giving me only thirty minutes to get to my apartment and back. When he’s out of sight through the maze of glass office walls, I spot Tristan’s personal desk belongings.

If anyone can talk Carter down from his fury, it’s Tristian.

I grab his things, find a piece of his mail, and take the box to the garage underground, where I set his belongings in the front seat with me. Carter’s sleek, black convertible pulls out into the windy, rainy city outside, and I use the GPS to get to Tristan’s building.

Tristan’s apartment complex isn’t far from Carter’s, but it’s almost just as lavish and magnificent. The doorman helps me with the box, my heel still wobbly and split as I limp through the lobby and hunt down Tristan’s apartment door upstairs.

The doorman leaves the box on the floor, and I knock hard on the door, surprised when I see it push open an inch or two without much force at all.

“Tristan?” I hum, poking my head into the modern, white living room with gray accent tiles on the ceiling that makes the place feel bigger than it is. “Tristan, your door was open. I know… I know you probably don’t want to see me, but—”

“Come here,” he weakly calls out. “In the bedroom to the left.”

I kick his box of stuff inside and peer into the bedroom, seeing Tristan leaning forward on the floor, his shirt torn or messy, his eyes rung with deep purple marks. I can smell the alcohol on his breath from here.

“Are you okay?”

“Never fucking better,” he snarls. “What the fuck do you want, Brooke?”

I flinch, feeling like he slapped me with that name. “It’s Isabella,” I mutter. “I wanted to bring your desk stuff, Tristan. I was hoping you could talk to Carter. I don’t want you two to fight anymore, especially because of me.”

He rolls his eyes, tips his chin up, and sneers, “Why don’t you just give up already? He’s had a hundred whores just like you, except they never caused this much damn trouble.”

I swallow hard, the lump in my throat feeling like a suffocating fist around my lungs. I know I should leave on that note, but I don’t.

I can’t until I know for sure that I didn’t rip this family apart.