Chapter 9 ~ Isabella
I close the bedroom door and lock it; I don’t want to fight with him anymore. If he has the energy to smash down this door and argue with me? Go ahead. I’m mentally and emotionally exhausted, as well as physically.
I turn off the lights and click on the lamp.
As I reach to take the corner of the comforter to pull it back, there is a pink stain on the surface.
I close my eyes and cringe inside. I chose him.
I could have walked away, should have walked away, but I chose him, to feel this with him, if only once in my life.
I climb into bed and turn the lamp off. I’m so tired of it all, everything.
He pulls me in a million different directions every time I’m near him.
One minute he’s almost kind, showing me a vulnerability I would never have expected him to have, then he switches.
His hand closes around my throat as his eyes turn silver, his soft mouth spitting venom in my face for reasons I can never understand.
I don’t know how long I’ll have to play his game. It could be months before I get a chance to escape. I feel cruel thinking in these terms. I gave him my virginity tonight, all the while still planning to leave him. It feels selfish and mean, and I am neither of those things.
He tried tonight. He really did. The song, the way he let me take control of our lovemaking, putting the decisions in my hands till I was ready. I curl up on my side and hug the pillow that still smells like him. Dang, it!
He was trying, and that’s more than I could have hoped for today.
He even tried talking to me about Harry Potter, but I knew, I could see it on his face, that it didn’t matter how I truly felt about the subject.
Alexander just wanted me to talk, and give more of myself for him to tear apart later when I disappointed him in some way.
Nonno always said, “People’s colors run true, Bella. Just give them time and it will shine through.” And he’s right.
Alexander only lasted less than a half hour after we made love before his touch turned cold and his hostility rose to the surface. As he clutched my jaw in his hand, demanding answers, I looked at the clock on the wall over his shoulder. I couldn’t help but laugh in my head. 12:06.
It made me feel sad for him and for me, in a way. But I knew the night wouldn’t last. He is who he is, and that is why this will never work. I can’t go on living like a toy, a trinket for all the men in my life to play with. I’ll play my part; I’ll do my duty to the organization as a good wife.
But he will never touch me again.
I gave us tonight. That’s all I could offer, and that was more than even I was equipped to give.
I thought it would be simple, be selfish for once, take what I wanted, needed.
But again, he made it hard to relish in my minor triumph.
He was kind, as if he almost cherished what we shared with our bodies.
That’s how he makes me falter every time.
That minuscule sliver of the man he could be.
I know better, but his deception is well-mastered, and I never learned that game.
But I’m trying to. Alexander is an excellent teacher if anything else.
My thoughts and feelings are mine alone, and I will keep them.
He won’t take that from me. I’m tired of falling for the pretense that someone is actually interested in my opinions.
They aren’t, so why bother to share them?
I’m the only one left naked and exposed to their harsh, scrutinizing stares and malicious words spoken behind my back.
I know I’m different and as hard as I try, I can’t be who they expect me to be. I’ve lost myself too many times trying to please them all, to keep playing the chess game they set up on the board. But no matter what I do, I kept getting moved across the board and put in place to serve men’s needs.
Anger swells up, and for once, I can actually say I’m pissed off. I will get out, somehow, and when I do, I will never put myself in this situation again.
So, if the boys want to play, let’s play.
My father got his wish. I married the man he chose. He has upped his standing in the organization. White makes the first move in chess, so fathers move, the white pawn to d4.
I had to go along with it, so my move is black knight to f6.
Alexander got the wedding he wanted. White pawn to c4
This time, I’ll follow each square, calculating my moves till I reach the king, and then I’ll jump over the edge. They can play on without me.
Black pawn to g6
~ ~ ~
I wake up; the sun is shining on my face and I blink and squint my eyes at the offending open curtains. Stretching my arms above my head, my body aches and as I roll over on my side, I can feel the burning between my legs.
I’m sore, a dull ache kind of sore. I roll over and put my feet on the floor as I look around the room. My dress is lying on the chair by the window; the pearls sparkle in the sun.
Mrs. Isabella Russo.
That’s my name now, a character I have to play.
Padding over to the bedroom door, I put my ear to the cold wood panel, listening for any evidence that he is awake. There is no noise from the hall, so I crack the door open a bit to listen.
Silence.
I look down. My duffle bag is sitting on the floor in front of my door. So I grab it as quietly as I can and close my door. I'm astonished he thought of clothes for me at all. I was just going to shower and put back on that charade of a dress.
Tossing the bag on the bed; digging out my toothbrush and my shampoo.
Once I've showered and the smell of him is off my skin.
I dressed in tan leggings, a black long-sleeved t-shirt, and a cream wool poncho.
I put on my tan boots, which had been packed for me.
I take his t-shirt and boxers, wrap up my dress, and walk down the hall to the living room ready to face my opponent.
Alexander is sitting at the kitchen table, his face hidden as he reads the newspaper.
There is an array of food spread out in front of him, I can smell the coffee and my stomach grumbles, giving me away.
He looks up, folding his paper away from his face.
His gaze travels over me from head to toe and back again. That one black eyebrow goes up.
“I’m surprised you’re not dressed in black. You are in mourning, aren’t you?”
Ooo, good one. White knight to C3.
He flips his paper and goes back to reading. I just shake my head; I knew he was going to be angry. I had expected his silver eyes to bore into me filled with hostility, but Alexander goes straight for the heart.
Dropping my duffle bag on the floor behind the couch I toss my dress over the back of it, laying his folded t-shirt and boxers beside it.
Picking up a cup and filling it with coffee, I add my sugar and cream.
Swipe a muffin off one of the many trays, go to the couch and sit down.
Putting my feet up on the edge of the coffee table, I settle back onto the couch, getting comfy.
I cup my chilly hands around my coffee, warming them as I blow across the top, looking out at the city.
One square at a time, Izzy. One square.
I pick up my muffin off the coffee table and start to carefully peel the wrapper off with my fingers as I hold my cup in my hand. Taking a bite, I almost choke, but I hold it together.
“How’s your pussy today?” His deep voice bounces off the marble walls.
He needs to remind me he took that innocence from me. It’s his now. I gave it to him, so I can only blame myself for the harsh words he will spew my way. He owns me now, and he’ll never let me forget it.
I keep chewing; as I peel the rest of the wrapper off, ball it in my hand, and give him a thumbs up over my chest in his direction, indicating I'm fine. Tossing the ball on the coffee table as I settle back on the couch looking over the city.
My move, Black bishop to G7. I will not respond to his insult.
I can feel the animosity pouring off of him.
He wants to push, escalate the tension between us so he can start what he didn’t get to finish last night.
It makes no difference to me. I expected him to be irritated this morning.
He usually is at meals. I chuckle out loud by accident.
But who cares? I take another bite of my muffin. Your move Mr. Russo.
I can hear the crinkle of his newspaper, and then the thump of his hand on the table.
“Something funny, bunny?”
“Nope.” I mumble around another mouth full of muffin. Bunny? That word can either melt me or make me cringe. Today I’m too exhausted from the struggle; it’s just a word with no meaning at all.
His voice snarls in the quiet of the room. “Carlos will be here soon to drive us home. I have a meeting at the club, so I won’t be home till after midnight or so. I’ve left it too long to be away another night.”
White Pawn to E4.
Isolation, he thinks his absence will make me miss him.
Yeah, nooo.
I keep chewing and give him another thumbs up over my chest.
Black pawn to D6.
I can hear him breathe out a heavy sigh through his nose.
His hand lands heavily on the table, making the dishes rattle.
He is trying to push. He wants me to submit to his anger, force a conflict, or cry like I usually do.
But I won't, I don’t have it in me today.
I don’t filch or jump at his attempt to startle me.
I take the last bite of my muffin, chew, swallow, and then sit back and sip my coffee enjoying the city skyline.
His phone vibrates on the table.
“Be ready in ten minutes. Carlos will be here shortly.”
White Knight to F3: He’s building his wall.
I can hear his chair scrape across the tiles and his heavy steps as he gets closer.
He stops behind the couch, and I can partially make out his reflection in the window's glass.
He reaches his hand out to touch my hair and pulls it back quickly.
His face is creased with irritation, lines gather across his forehead.