Dedicated to abbizzzz. She's been sticking around  this excuse of a story since forever! Hugs and kisses from me to her:-D

Swept into the clean maze of exquisite office furnishings, Isla strutted on velvet designer heels. Fast and furious. Jaw set in a thin line, warning you to steer crystal clear of her path. Full, luscious lips coated in red lipstick. Her emerald eyes popped fiercely.

"Get Mr Dehler on the phone, asap," she snapped at the girl receptionist.

She fumbled with the telephone before she finally managed to put him on the line. As she stammered Isla's details, the second rapped her nails on the first's desk. When she hung up, Isla didn't wait a beat for the poor soul to say anything.

"Thought the bitch would think twice about obeying my orders. I wonder why she smells so horrible though?" She sniffed the air like a rabbit, the bottom of her lips turning downwards in a condescending sneer.

"You came." Her father wore his cheesy grin and silver French suit, standing at attention.

Once their gazes leveled, she cast her stare on the almanac sitting on his desk. Though he was old enough to die that very moment, his presence overwhelmed and engulfed her in the pool of powerlessness.

"What other choice did I have?" She folded her arms across her chest.

"Drop the proud act, Missy," he scolded.

She left her hands just where they were.
"Make me."

Chuckling mirthlessly, his features sharpened as the wall clock ticked, filling out the silence. Father and daughter. Tempers blazing on the fiery high. Reins let loose, going haywire, like two bulls about to butt each other's horns.

"Tea?"

"No," she replied.

"Espresso?"

"Fuck everything you've got."

"Your lan__"

"Is none of your fucking business, Mr Man. If I had a knife, I'd merrily drive it down your throat this minute. What do you think I am, a softie?"

"Would you just___"

"Chasing after girls and money while his little daughter is stuck up with Nanny at home. You know what she served me for dinner every night? Mac and cheese. I had to stash all my Pokemon cards away, and watch scary animes because that's what Nanny wanted."

"If you hadn't been too jealous of your sister, none of this terrible things would've transpired," he simmered. "Plus, Nanny is gone now. So is everyone who knows what I'm about to reveal to you."

Multiple chills ran down her spine. He had a dirty little secret? She used to assume that secrets were for sluts and queen bees. Playboys who'd stuck their things in all girls' coochies at school. She fiddled with a ballpoint pen she'd found on his desk, shunning his eyes.

"Novah. Your mom. Craig's dad." He ticked off the list on his fingers one by one.

"Did Grams know?"

"Yeah," he deadpanned.

She had a cheese-sized hole in her heart for her grandma that would never fill. Her mom she'd forever miss. But Novah? Novah?
She discarded the various possibilities pushing themselves to the forefront of her mind. Not now. No Novah.

"I have a sneaking feeling that you're hiding something from me," she commented. "Spit it, Mr D."

He released another bout of his chuckles, maddening her to her highest peak. Churning with fury boiling her insides, she flung the glass plaque on the same desk straight at his poor head. How dare he play the rather irritating game of leading her on, only to spin her in circles like she was some goddamn pawn on a chessboard?

"Spit it!" She barked, baring her teeth in a snarl.

He remained unfazed. Pressed the intercom and leaned back in his seat, patiently waiting for her to return to her senses. Or buy them back from whomever she sold them to. When the person on the other side of the door stepped in, the room spun and twisted at a speed faster than lightening. Fireworks exploded in her belly, louder than the crack and boom of thunder.

"Craig?" Her voice came out, unsure at first.

Wasn't he supposed to be in a jail cell? Who released him? How many millions had her dad drained from their family account to bail Craig out? What was he doing here?

She rubbed her eyes with the back of her palm, springing up from her seat.

"Aren't you happy to see me?" He smiled a smile brighter than the sun.

She frowned. A frown dimmer than midnight. "No__ of course__ I'm just___ what are you___ how did you___?"

Even in her heels, he still stood tall over her. Regal. Commanding. And handsome as hell. He bent over, grazed her cheeks with his knuckles as he stole a small kiss from her lips.

"I imagined you'd be happier to see me," he whined.

"All of this," she gestured to herself, her dad, Craig, and the room in all entirety, "doesn't make sense. I was accosted by a random guy posing as a paparazzo who delivered a message that my daddy wants to see me." She air quoted daddy.

" Now I'm seeing the daddy but he's joking around. Wait, when were you discharged from the infirmary?" She nodded at her dad.

"I was never sick, Isla." A smile the size of Baltimore spread across his face like jam over bread.

The girl actually stumbled, crashing back on the seat she shunned earlier.

"You're playing another game, right?" She scoffed. "Because I'm sure as hell that you're lying here."

"My dear Isla," he grinned, spreading his arms wide, "I never even had a fever. That old guy whom you surmised was your father was my twin brother. Come on, you didn't think I'd die before I see you end up on the streets, did you?"

The loathing she possessed for him bounced back in full force.
She suppressed her urge to retort .

"Is your scumbag of a twin still alive?"

"Is your angel of a twin still alive?" Craig fired back.

She turned on him.
"What do you mean? She died like, three weeks ago. Does it matter anymore?"

Heat pumped between them as he pressed her body closer to his, pinning her arms down to her sides. His touch did something else to her nowadays, drove her to the brink of insanity, infusing her bones with lust. For him.

"Stop moving in circles, girlfriend. Just in case you didn't know, this conversation is being bugged, as well as everything you've said so far. Don't look around; you'll never find the cameras where they're hidden."

Huh?

Craig dropped the bomb of the century. "Who killed Novah?"