Novels by Isabelle Hart

"And how is that girl you like, Samantha? Samantha, right?She's been absent from school for two weeks, and now I like Laura Edwards," Sam says carelessly on the phone. "When are you coming back, Mom? I want to watch The Lion King together."The longing for my son echoes painfully in every cell of my body. I miss his scent, the feel of my hand in his thick, bushy hair, our hugs, and his mischievous smile."I'll try as soon as possible, but I'm very busy. You don't have to wait for me to watch it. I promise I won't be offended.""No," my son says firmly. "I promised myself I wouldn't watch The Lion King without you."I've actually become more sentimental since being in the hospital, because that remark touches me deeply now. For the first time in my life, my feelings are completely reciprocated. Sam is as devoted to me as I am to him.“That's very sweet. Tell me what you do in your free time.”“I draw a lot. Yesterday, Coach Jones even complimented me on my great kick. It's called a Ma

"Hi," I whispered, the word coming out dry and brittle. My heart hammered against my ribs with such frantic intensity that I was certain Jaden could hear it, muffled only by the thin hospital blanket."Hello, Tasha," he replied. His voice was even but carried a slight, gravelly hoarseness, the kind that comes from hours of heavy silence. He didn't move, just watched me with those smoky gray eyes that remained, as always, an unreadable map. "How are you feeling?"I swallowed hard, forcing down the lump of raw emotion rising in my throat. I tried to anchor myself with a smile, though I knew it was shaky. "I'm fine. Really. But... how did you know I was here?""You didn't come to work," he said simply.I frowned, my mind racing. "But the official story... for everyone else, I'm supposed to be on a business trip.""The 'official story' doesn't account for who you are, Tasha," he countered, his voice dropping an octave. "You would never leave without warning or without making sure every la

“How are you feeling, Mrs. Fury?” A stocky, middle-aged man who introduced himself as a police sergeant looked me over as if I were suspected of attempting to assassinate the country’s leader."I'm doing quite well, thank you for your concern," I replied sarcastically. "You could have discussed my condition with your doctor, so let's get straight to the point.“ As you wish. I need to know how you sustained your head injury.""I tripped on the carpet pile and fell," I said, holding his gaze.After two days of weighing the pros and cons, I decided that I didn't want to make what happened public. It wouldn't affect my decision to divorce Isaac, and I didn't want the unnecessary bonus of seeing my face on internet portals or accepting false sympathy from friends. Previously, the deciding factor in preserving my union with Isaac was my unwillingness to leave Sam without a father. Now, however, that has been overshadowed by my fear that Isaac will someday hurt his son. Someone who has cros

My father arrived mid-morning, bringing with him a gust of fresh air and a deliberate, cheerful ignorance of the antiseptic smell of my room. He spent a solid half hour entertaining me with stories about his afternoon at the park with Sam. It was a masterclass in deflection; he navigated the conversation like a minefield, carefully stepping around any mention of my monitors or the reason I was stuck in this bed."You should have seen him yesterday, kid," my father said, leaning back in the rigid plastic visitor’s chair. "We went down to the creek to look for those flat skipping stones. Sam found one the size of a dinner plate and insisted it was a 'dinosaur fossil.' He carried that thing for three blocks before he realized his arms weren't long enough to keep hold of it."I leaned back against my pillows, a small smile tugging at my mouth. "Did he make you carry it the rest of the way?""Of course he did," my father chuckled, his eyes softening. "But he’s getting so tall. He’s got tha

At the mention of their names, a hot, jagged flare of anger pierced through my exhaustion. Isaac’s parents weren't the ones who had raised a hand to me, but they were the architects of the man who had."If any of them show up at my door, I will insist that they be escorted out by security," I said, my voice thin but absolute."Tasha, what on earth is wrong with you?" Even the sterile hospital air couldn't dampen the sharp displeasure in my mother's tone. She smoothed her skirt, the gold on her wrists clinking. "They are your husband’s parents and our oldest friends. This is no time for a tantrum.""I don't care. As soon as I am discharged, I am filing for divorce."My mother sighed, the sound of someone indulging a hysterical child. "I won't even ask what gave you such a ridiculous idea. You’re clearly not yourself. You need to rest and let the doctors do their work."The proximity of death has a way of stripping away the polite veneer of life. I was too weak to prop up her delusions

Half an hour later, Dr. Turner swept into the room, his brow furrowed as he reviewed my chart. He spoke in the clipped, clinical tones of a man used to delivering bad news, mentioning my dangerously low hemoglobin and severe anemia. When I pressed him for a discharge date, he offered only a vague, non-committal remark about "continued monitoring" before vanishing back into the sterile hallway.Breakfast arrived—tasteless and lukewarm—but it was the bouquet on the windowsill that truly offended me. Its scent was cloying, a pompous explosion of lilies that felt like a mockery of my sterile surroundings. When the nurse returned for the tray, I asked her to remove them immediately. I ignored her puzzled expression, turning my face toward the window until the heavy fragrance finally faded from the room. My phone sat charging on the nightstand, and my bag—likely brought by Isaac—rested in the chair, but the energy required to reach them felt monumental. I told myself I’d call my mother late

AvaI still can't believe I managed to trick Samurai. Sure, I was lucky, but I still didn't think it would be so easy.The plan came to me the moment I left Tim's office and saw Slate. I walked toward him, smiling broadly and genuinely enjoying the look on his stunned face. He watched me idly from behind the wheel of the SUV."I want to go to the orphanage and deliver some gifts. Tim said you'll be guarding me now, so let's go quickly."Slate doesn't answer. He waits for me to get in the car, and then we drive to the supermarket. I deliberately sit in the backseat, at least that way I can distance myself from the man with such an unpleasant, piercing gaze.He periodically glances into the internal mirror, and I feel like an insect is running over me. An unpleasant one, with clinging legs and a sharp sting. And very, very poisonous.At the supermarket, I put sweets, crackers, and fruit in the cart. For the girls, it's hair clips and elastic bands, for the boys, it's socks—these are thi

I head straight to the gym and changed. My body fills with a painful anticipation—the same sensation as when I'm waiting for sex. I slowly wrap protective bandages around my wrists.It's like foreplay before sex, when you know it's about to happen. Lots and lots. Long. So you can take your time and prolong the pleasure as much as possible.I approach the punching bag hanging in the corner. The first punch—the bag goes away and returns smoothly. I reach it with my foot. I strike again, this time from the left. I finish with a kick.I find the right rhythm and then just turn my head off. I pour all the concentration of that brain-melting heat into each stroke. And it's just like in sex—the more rhythmic and deeper you move, the more intense and faster you cum.Each blow, just like in sex, is accompanied by a movement of the hips. I feel the anger pouring out, dissolving and evaporating into the air, and the arousal growing. I give in to the rhythm, pounding my fists into the tight surfa

FrostI'm driving down the avenue in the evening, and inside, everything's tied up in a knot. In the sea. Why the hell did Damien tell me this? I lived peacefully and didn't know, and now I'm going to worry about it.I remember how often Damien would come to the orphanage, bringing treats. He always gave a gift on New Year's. So, it turns out I wasn't the only one who thought he was a daddy.I stop the car and pull over to the side of the road. It's a shame I don't smoke; I need something to do with my hands. I hold onto the steering wheel and look ahead.He never promised me anything, not even once, and I never even thought about accusing him. He was very young; he and Sara had just had a daughter. How else could they have me to be completely happy?But inside, it quietly gnaws at me whenever I imagine, even for a second, that I live in a family, and Damien is my father. I probably would have been the best son, but his wife couldn't love me; she knew it and said so frankly.I don't f

"You have a rat in your circle," Damien finally says. "Someone's snitching on you, it started just recently, Tim. Be careful. They're digging under you, and it's not ours."He points his finger up, and I realize it's state security. And I also understand how he's risking and exposing himself by leaking the "rat.""Thank you, Damien," I say, "I really am very grateful." He waves his hand dismissively."I don't need your thanks, do something. I don't feel like bringing you wreaths at the cemetery."Wow. So they don't want to put me in jail, they want to kill me. Cool. Well, it wouldn't be the first time.I say goodbye, but Damien, shaking my hand, holds me back."Tim," I look up, he's staring intently, "you could have been poisoned. Why did you follow me? With your money, you could work with any of our guys.""Are you working with me?" I squint. "And for money?"“No,” he shakes his head, and I know it’s true. I just know, that’s all, “that’s not why.”“Why?” Now I squeeze his hand. He t

I look at my watch—it's time to finish. There's a lot of work, but I need to stop by and see Damien. And most importantly, Ava is waiting for me at home.It's a strange feeling, being expected. I'm used to people expecting things from me. Jewelry, clothes, food at a pub, a trip to a fancy resort. And for that, they're willing to suck me off practically for the rest of my life.And Ava needs me. I felt it yesterday when I saw her sitting on the windowsill.I stop at the supermarket and buy juice and oranges. What else does Damien need? His wife will bring food, the driver brought the money to the doctors this morning, and he also bought the medication. Nothing serious happened to Frost.He inhaled smoke, and the hospital diagnosed him with smoke poisoning and told him to stay in the hospital for a few days. So now he's in the hospital.And when it comes out, they'll put him in an office and promote him to major. And I'll finally breathe a sigh of relief.Damien's bed is by the window,

FrostWe're sitting in my office chair, Ava on my lap. I rest my forehead on her chest, she strokes my hair, and I'm simply not thinking about anything. I'm enjoying her scent, the unexpected, and therefore even more mind-blowing sex. She's a smart girl for coming, after all, my sweetie.Of course, this isn't the first time I've had sex in my own office; I don't think I can remember which one. But it's Ava's first, and for me, it's all different. I don't know, I can't explain it; I can just think about her, and a very strange and unfamiliar feeling appears inside.It's as if there's a lake full of water inside me. I look at it, and it becomes calm, smooth. Clean, transparent. Crystal. Like this lake water.“Tim,” Ava calls quietly, and I, coming to my senses, rub my nose against her warm skin.Well, aren't you a moron? Good thing no one can read my thoughts; everyone would piss themselves laughing. I must be so turned on by this girl that I'm producing more sperm than necessary. And a