Chapter 15
Chapter
Fifteen
ADAM
W hat’s happening to me?
Isabelle is bringing out the worst in me. First, she asked questions she shouldn’t have. Then in the library, she got me to talk about my family. I was able to freeze her out for a few days, but now… I actually went and saved her in the snow.
Held her all night in front of the fire.
Brought her into the most sacred room of this castle—at least to me—and told her she could come in whenever she wants.
And now, worst of all, I’m considering cleaning up my appearance.
After leaving her in the theater, I went back to my office to regroup. The computer monitor was still frozen on the moment when I entered and was speaking to Isabelle—fine, yelling at her—and it gave me another perspective on myself.
Do I really want to look like this?
What would my mother think?
Argh. I’m getting too soft.
Lionel knocks on the office door and enters. “How is Ms. Isabelle? ”
“She’s well,” I respond, not taking my eyes off the monitor. “She’s in the theater.”
“Oh?”
I look up at him, his eyebrows raised. “Yes.”
He presses his lips together in a small smile.
“Don’t read into it,” I say.
“Of course not,” he says, the smile still on his face. “Is there anything you need?”
I glance down at the picture that has taken residence on my desk, then at the image on the screen. After a moment of hesitation, I finally speak the words. “Yes. Call Cassandra. It’s time for a haircut.”
I’m nervous.
This is ridiculous. Why should I be nervous? I just got a haircut and trimmed my beard down to a more civilized length. There’s nothing wrong with that.
And it wasn’t for Isabelle.
It was for me.
But as I stand behind my chair, waiting for her to enter the dining room, I can’t help the rush of nerves at what she’s going to say when she sees me. Not only did I get a haircut, but I finally decided to wear something other than a sweatshirt and sweatpants. It’s nothing too exciting, just a blue button-down and slacks, but I know she’ll notice the change and comment on it.
“You look sharp, sir,” Lionel comments from behind me.
I grunt in response. I’m sure he’s got another smug smile on his face, but I don’t want to see it.
And then she enters. She’s wearing the same clothes from this morning, her hair is a little messy, but her beauty still strikes me every time I see her.
“Sorry I’m late,” she says, walking straight to her chair and not looking at me. “I fell asleep again watching movies and—oh!” She stops dead in her tracks, her eyes locked on mine. “You cut your hair.”
I swallow. Do you like it? I want to ask, but of course I won’t. That’s pathetic. Instead, I just nod. “It was time.”
She smiles softly. “It looks…really good.”
I feel the side of my mouth start to turn up in a smile. No, Adam. Keep it together. You didn’t do this for her. I step over to her chair, pulling it out for her to take a seat.
Slowly, she sits down as I push it in. I take a seat in my place, and the footmen bring our salad dishes.
“Thank you, Graham,” she says, smiling at him.
How did she know it was Graham and not his twin…Greyson? Yes, that’s his name. Greyson.
With just that small remark, I realize how well she’s integrated herself here. She’s not only become part of my daily routine, but she knows the staff by name, even differentiating the twins. And they know her, as well.
Just like my mother. She was so beloved by them all because she took the time to get to know each of them individually and make them part of her family.
Graham smiles at Isabelle and inclines his head.
“Yes, thank you, Graham,” I add.
Graham’s eyebrows rise, and I feel like an idiot. I whip out my napkin and set it on my lap. Back to Isabelle. “So, how are you feeling now?”
Isabelle takes it all in stride. “So much better,” she says. “I started watching My Fair Lady and fell asleep right away. I’ve been napping on and off all day. ”
“And your temperature? You’re not too cold?”
She shakes her head. “I’m all better.” She meets my eyes. “Thank you again. I don’t know what would’ve happened if…” She shudders. “I’m so grateful.”
I nod once, uncomfortable with this show of emotion. “Will you be able to sleep tonight, now that you’ve slept all day?”
Why am I so worried about her? If she sleeps or doesn’t sleep, why is this my concern? But I can’t shake the thought of her being awake and miserable in the middle of the night.
“Even if I can’t, I have plenty of movies to keep me occupied.” She glances at the window. “I do wish we could go outside, though. That’s the one other thing I make sure of every day. I take a morning walk and another one in the evening. It supposedly helps with your body clock. So being inside has made me extra stir crazy.”
“Hopefully the storm lets up soon,” I say.
She nods in agreement, and we finish our salads in silence. The footmen exchange our plates, with Isabelle graciously thanking them again, and we start on the main course. I stay silent this time. I made enough of a spectacle thanking Graham for the salad.
“So, the theater is pretty amazing,” she says after a few moments of silence. “Did you spend a lot of time in there?”
I freeze mid-chew. How does she always know the exact questions to make my stomach drop?
She doesn’t notice and keeps talking. “Is that where you got the idea to be an actor? I bet you watched a lot of movies in there with your?—”
“That’s enough,” I say. “We’re not discussing the theater.”
She furrows her brow. “I thought because you showed it to me, I could ask about?—”
“No.” I say it forcefully, setting my fork down on the table with a clang. I stare her down. “You don’t get to know about my personal life or my history. You can enjoy the theater as much as you’d like, but that’s the extent of it.”
She doesn’t back down from my gaze, but meets it with her own intensity. “Fine.”
We stare at each other, an unspoken battle raging between us. Who will look away first? Not me, that’s for sure.
“Mr. Stone?” Lionel asks from the corner.
“Yes?” My eyes flit over to him. Ugh. I lost.
“I thought you’d like to know that the storm has ceased.”
That catches Isabelle’s attention. She stands without hesitation, her chair scraping the wooden floor, and she rushes over to the window. “Finally!” she exclaims, pulling the curtain aside.
I follow her in a more dignified manner, standing behind her at the window. Close, but not too close. Even from here, I can smell the lavender shampoo that she must be using.
Lionel’s right, the storm has stopped. Outside, a white blanket drapes over the ground and the trees, but there’s no snow falling from the sky. The sun is setting over the mountains, and the view is picturesque.
In fact, for a brief moment, I swear I can see out of my left eye. I shut my right eye, testing it out, and everything goes black.
I must have imagined it.
“It’s beautiful,” Isabelle breathes. She turns and faces me, her eyes wide when she realizes how close I’m standing.
Maybe I am too close.
She composes herself. “Can I go outside? I promise I’ll bundle up this time. And I won’t get lost.”
I can understand her pull to be outside. Before everything happened with Tristan and my accident, I felt the same desire. But now that I’m a recluse, I’d rather stay inside the castle, where the light of day can’t touch my scars.
She wants to go outside, but that’s still no guarantee she won’t get lost. I can’t risk that again.
“You can go outside,” I say. “But I’m coming with you.”