Chapter 3 ~ Alexander
I woke up in the morning with full intentions of heading back to Chicago by this afternoon. I can't wait to get out of this shit-hole city. Not that I'm looking forward to reuniting with Isabella, but at least at home I'll have a better chance of keeping an eye on her.
After I've finally fully woken up, the first thing I do is roll over and reach for my phone. I bring up the camera feed for Isabella’s room. She’s sitting on the couch again. I’m not sure what the ladies have planned for today, but I don’t like the idea of her always eating alone in her room.
I send a quick text message to Sasha telling her to go get Isabella and bring her to the dining room. Maybe I am a sick bastard, but I’d like to watch her eat. She always has herself tucked away in the window seat and I can’t see her face.
I put my phone down and head to the shower.
I turn on the water and step under the spray.
We have one more meeting this morning and then we get to go home.
Not that I will be getting away from these pricks any time soon.
Three-quarters of the guest list is Organization members.
I feel like all I do is eat, sleep and wake up with these people.
I shake my head in disbelief as the water runs down my back.
We will get married tomorrow.
Twisting the tap off, I grab a towel off the rack and wrap it around my waist, walking over to the sink to shave quickly and brush my teeth.
Grabbing a hand towel to dry my hair, I head over to the bed to sit down.
Tapping the app, I bring up the camera for the dining room, but she hasn’t arrived yet.
Tossing my phone on the bed, I go to my closet, get dressed and throw the rest of my stuff in my duffle bag and put my suits from the dry cleaners into my garment bag, getting everything ready to go.
Slipping on my watch, I clasp it and toss my garment bag on the bed and sit down beside it to pick up my phone.
Isabella is sitting at the dining room table. She’s slowly forcing herself to eat hash browns. My eyebrows draw together, she is pale and her hands are shaking. The dark smudges under her eyes give me concern and she looks thinner in the face.
Watching her closely, she takes a bite of toast and holds her hand to her mouth. Her hand shakes as she tries to swallow. Her other hand holds her stomach as she slightly lurches in her seat, forcing the food to stay down.
What the hell is going on?
She holds her chest as she tries again to chew. She takes another sip of coffee, forcing the mouthful of food down with a sip.
I minimize the feed and text Sasha.
Alexander: Is she ill? She’s gagging on her food? What’s wrong with her?
Sasha: I don’t know, sir. Her plate is always empty when I pick up her tray. Could it be nerves? Tomorrow is the big day. Maybe she’s just nervous.
Alexander: I can't watch this. Inform her that she's free to go. Simply keep an eye on her for the remainder of the day, but keep me informed. I'm curious whether she eats anything else today.
Sasha places a kind touch on Isabella's shoulder. I watch as she stands up and walks slowly to the door. I activate the camera in the entryway and watch her as she gradually makes her way up the stairs and down the hall to her room.
I click on her bedroom feed as she closes the bedroom door, resting against it. She’s holding her stomach, puts a hand to her mouth, and lurches forward. She runs to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. What little food she ate I know she just threw up.
A sense of panic overwhelms me and that tight feeling in my chest gets even tighter.
I should call my mother and tell her to watch out for her today.
The girls have some kind of spa day happening downtown before the rehearsal.
If she shows any more signs of being ill, I’ll have our family doctor come and look at her.
I try to mentally brush the unease away. Maybe she's just nervous like Sasha suggested.
I switch off the feed and walk into the living room to find Carlos drinking coffee and sitting on the couch.
I explain what I witnessed and ask him if I should call the doctor.
He, like Sasha, attributes it to nerves.
I'm still feeling uneasy in my stomach, and that tight feeling is back in my chest. Something doesn't feel right.
We met my father and Sebastian at the hotel restaurant for breakfast, but I’m not exactly hungry. I’m concerned for Isabella, and the pain in my chest is getting tighter. I rub it and my father looks at me, but quickly turns back to the conversation Sebastian and Carlos are having.
I'm not hearing anything. I keep seeing Isabella's white face as she tries to eat the toast. Her eyes have black circles, and she appears to have lost weight. It's not much, but it's noticeable in the way her clothing fits differently. She's got to be sick with something.
“You alright?” My father asks quietly.
I rub my chest again. “Yeah. Isabella’s not feeling well. She was sick this morning.”
My father looks at my chest then back up at me, “I’ll call your mother, have her watch her today.”
“Sure, sounds good.” I pick up my coffee and take a sip.
The meeting runs late, and we won’t make it back for the wedding rehearsal.
There won’t be enough time to fly back and to do a run-through of the ceremony and still have time to get ready for dinner.
My father calls my mother and informs her of our dilemma.
She is disappointed but understands. I'm hoping Isabella does as well.
Nothing has ever been smooth between us, and this is just one more example of the rocky road we travel on.
We board the plane two hours later. It’s a three-hour flight, so once we land, we have just enough time to make it to the hotel to change and get ready. Carlos and Sebastian are in the back on the Xbox playing video games. My father sits across from me, reading papers.
I just stare out the window.
“She’s fine, by the way.” My father states.
I whip my head toward him. “Who?”
“Isabella. Your mother said she was fine today. No need to worry.”
I sit up straighter, attempting to hide my relief that she is fine. "I'm not worried. I just wanted to make sure she made it down the aisle."
My father drops the folder in his lap, pointing at my chest.
“So? There is no reason you keep rubbing your chest.”
I drop my hand immediately. He chuckles, actually chuckles at me.
“It’s called caring, son.” He points at my chest again, “That tightness, the curdling in your stomach, the way the air gets sucked out of your lungs?”
He looks me in the eye. His expression softens somewhat.
“That’s what happens when a man cares. We are designed to protect and provide for those we value in our lives. The need to safeguard them, see to their happiness.” He picks up his folder and continues to look at me.
“That discomfort you feel. It is the ache of uncertainty. That you’re failing on one or all of those obligations?”
He picks up his folder and reads. Leaving me sitting there with a growing stab in my chest.
Do I care? Yes, I care if she’s okay. She is my responsibility now and will be until the day we die, according to the priest. If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t be breaking into shitty libraries to find her. Do I care if she’s going to be happily married to me? Somewhat, but it is what it is.
She’s already furious at me for locking her in the house, so I’m sure the hostility toward me won’t change any time soon. Do I love her like I love my family? My mother? No.
Oh, fuck this Oprah shit! I dig out my files and start to go over them. Better to work than figure out hearts and flowers.
~ ~ ~
We land and pile into the town car, heading to the hotel.
I had Danny deliver my tux to the hotel earlier in the day to be picked up at the front desk.
I took the rest of my stuff with me before I left.
Carlos and Sebastian are staying with me tonight since the wedding is tomorrow.
Christopher will be back later once he gets the club taken care of.
He’s been having a blast running the club and has been bugging me to make him a partner.
Now that I’ll be a married man soon, I should spend more time at home.
God, the ring isn't even on my finger yet and I'm already turning soft.
James checks us in and we head up to our separate rooms. Carlos opens the door to the suite and we throw our luggage into our rooms. I come back out and grab a drink from the bar cart.
That unease hasn’t left me since this morning.
It’s been there for most of the week, but more so today than any other day.
I’m lost in thought as Sebastian comes around the corner to the bar cart and pours himself a whiskey.
I turn from the mass of windows and watch him. He would have been so much better suited to Isabella than I am. They have so much in common while I’m still struggling to even be nice, according to everyone else.
Sebastian comes in and stands beside me. “Nervous, brother?”
I glance at him and then back out the window. "No, not really. We’re so different from one another, Sebastian. I am struggling to find a middle ground, but she doesn’t make it easy."
Sebastian takes a sip of his drink and looks out the window. He just nods his head in agreement, not saying a word.
He should be the one marrying her. I don’t know what my father was thinking.
Finally, he breaks his silence. “Just have some patience, Alexander. Remember, she’s only 23 years old. And she’s never experienced a life like we have. Definitely never had a life like you’ve had.” He laughs.
“I agree wholeheartedly, brother. Remember, she’s my wife tomorrow, no more dragging her away from me.” I wink at him.
“To wedded bliss.” I raise my glass and he touches mine with his. We both take a sip. I look over at him and say, “I guess it’s time I put my suit on. She’ll be waiting for me. I’ll see you at the rehearsal dinner?”