Isolde didn't make it five feet past the door. A large hand slammed against the wall right beside her head, blocking her path. The scent of cedar and cigar smoke enveloped her.
She gasped, spinning around. Jacques pinned her against the wall, his body a wall of solid muscle. The hallway was dimly lit, the shadows making his face look even more menacing.
"Running away again?" he asked, his voice a low growl. "You seem to make a habit of it."
"Let me go." Isolde said, trying to keep her voice steady. "I need to get back-"
"Back to what? Playing the dutiful wife?" Jacques leaned in closer, his face inches from hers. "Last night you were throwing yourself at me. Tonight you're serving me drinks. Which one is the real you, Isolde?"
"It was a mistake." she whispered. "I didn't know who you were."
"Didn't you?" He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the silver bracelet. The Mitchell crest glinted under the dim light. He dangled it in front of her face.
Isolde's eyes widened. She reached for it instinctively. "That's mine!"
Jacques yanked it back, holding it out of her reach. "You left it in my room. Along with a lot of unanswered questions." He stepped closer, his thigh pressing against hers. "You expect me to believe it's a coincidence? That the woman who tried to buy me last night just happens to be the wife of the man begging for my investment?"
"It is a coincidence," Isolde insisted, her voice rising in panic. "I didn't know you were the investor. I didn't even know your name until ten minutes ago!"
Jacques scoffed. "You're a terrible liar. A man in my position meets a lot of women who play games. But you? You're playing a dangerous one. Coming to my room. Leaving your little trinket for me to find. Showing up here with your husband's business partners." He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. "What are you after? Money? Information?"
"I'm not after anything!" Isolde cried, trying to twist away. "My husband made me come here. I don't want anything from you!"
"Is that right?" Jacques's grip tightened. "Then why did you come to the club last night? Why did you look at me like I was the answer to all your prayers?"
Isolde couldn't tell him the truth. She couldn't tell him she was there to cheat on her husband. It was too humiliating. She clamped her mouth shut, her eyes burning with unshed tears.
Jacques took her silence as an admission. His eyes darkened, a dangerous glint entering them. "Let me give you a piece of advice, Isolde. If you're going to play with fire, make sure you don't get burned. And if you come into my territory, you don't get to run away when things get hot."
He released her chin, stepping back. The elevator at the end of the hall dinged, the doors sliding open. Jacques glanced at the sound, his expression hardening.
Isolde didn't wait. She ducked under his arm and sprinted down the hall, away from the elevator. She pushed through the door to the service stairwell, her heart hammering in her chest. She leaned against the cold concrete wall, her legs giving out. She slid to the floor, gasping for breath.
She had to go back. Her purse was still in the dining room. Her phone was in her purse. She couldn't leave without it.
She waited five minutes, trying to compose herself. Then she pushed open the door and crept back down the hall. She took a deep breath and opened the door to the private dining room.
The atmosphere inside had shifted. It was freezing. Jacques was back in his seat, his face like thunder. Rudy and the other men sat in rigid silence, their faces pale.
Rudy saw Isolde and nearly jumped out of his chair. "Mrs. Ruiz! Thank God. Come, sit down. Pour the wine."
Isolde walked over to the table, her hands trembling. She picked up the bottle of wine.
Before she could pour, Jacques slammed his whiskey glass down on the table. The crack of glass against wood was like a gunshot.
Isolde jumped, the wine bottle slipping. Red liquid splashed across the white tablecloth. Rudy opened his mouth to yell, but one look from Jacques shut him up.
Jacques stood up, his movements slow and deliberate. He adjusted his cufflinks, his gaze sweeping over the terrified men. "This meeting is over. The rest of the discussion is confidential." He turned his cold stare to Isolde. "And she doesn't belong here. Get her out."
Rudy scrambled to his feet. He walked over to Isolde, his face red with suppressed anger. He pointed toward the door. "Out. Now."
Isolde stood frozen, her face burning with shame. Every man at the table was staring at her. She saw the pity, the disgust, the amusement. She grabbed her purse off the chair.
She held her head high, refusing to let them see her cry. She walked out of the room, the door clicking shut behind her.
The moment she was alone, the tears fell. She leaned against the wall, her body shaking. She had failed. She had been humiliated. And Clark was going to make her pay.
