Chapter 15 ~ Isabella
Anna left with Danny about a half hour ago.
My heart is broken. I don’t know when Alex will let me see her again.
We stuffed a lot of clothes in her big bag.
I was shocked at how much we could fit in that thing.
Giggling to myself and walking over to the window.
I pull a sheer curtain back and I see the boys hanging out on the lounge chairs sitting down by the pool.
Alexander sits across from Carlos, and Sebastian and Christopher are sharing a seat.
They all have drinks in their hands, talking and laughing.
Sebastian looks up and sees me and I wave to him.
He breaks out into a big smile, and I smile back.
He waves harder, beckoning me to come down and join them.
Christopher notices and looks up, smiles up and does the same thing.
Carlos only tilts his head up and goes back to cleaning his nails ignoring me.
I almost considered joining them. I haven’t seen Sebastian since the rehearsal dinner, and I’d like to see him.
Alexander stands up and turns to face me in the window, his face unreadable, as he puts both hands in his pockets staring up at me.
Tingles run up my spine. It’s not the heated look of anger or passion I usually see, but indifference I read in his eyes.
As if he’s trying to see in my soul and not liking what reflects back at him.
The curtain falls as I back away from the window.
I can’t move. He is still staring up at me and I’m frozen in place.
I step away from the window completely and head into my studio.
I spent the afternoon painting, working on the third stage part of my piece. I know there’s something wrong in this house when Sasha delivers my dinner with no request to join him in the dining room.
I don’t know what I did wrong. Refusing to kiss him to protect myself wasn’t that big of a deal. Or so I thought. I’m not the happiest person in the mornings. But I don’t think I said anything that would cause him to have such a hateful look in his eyes today.
The daylight has faded and I’m sitting in my window in my pajamas looking out in the backyard. I rest my chin on my knees. Alexander runs so hot and cold I never know what to do. If he could just be kind, like he was on our wedding night, sweet how he was at the charity auction.
That Alexander is who I could eventually fall in love with or at least find a middle ground.
But there’s no middle ground with Alexander.
He needs to control every minute, every move, everything I do.
He’s even tried to control how I feel and what I should think.
And I can’t live with someone like that. I won’t be anyone’s lap dog anymore.
Wednesday falls into the usual pattern. After lunch Sasha and I go to the backyard and read by the pool till late afternoon. I haven’t seen Alexander nor heard a word from him. An uneasy feeling makes my stomach roll.
He’s here. I heard him come to his room last night, and he stopped at my door, twisted the handle, and then let it go and crossed the hall to his room. But the house is like a tomb. No noise, no one to be seen but Sasha and me.
Thursday, I wake up, roll over and look out the window. It’s gloomy today; the sun hides behind gray clouds that threaten to bring a fall storm. I chill runs up my back as I toss the blanket back and get up. I head to the bathroom to shower and get ready for my day.
I change into my painting clothes and start the third phase of the picture. It brings me a sense of contentment. Something I haven’t felt in the last couple of days. Like the storm clouds outside, it feels like something within this house is building.
Sasha comes with my lunch, and I sit in my window watching the clouds gather into a heavy gray mass sweeping over the city. They cover the land in a half a shadow, a chill runs up my back and goose bumps break out of my arm. It’s cold by the window, like this house.
My door slams open and I jump in my seat, and Alexander is charging towards me, and I stand up, putting my plate on the coffee table.
Like the storm outside, his eyes are silver and for the first time, I feel fear like I haven’t felt since I was little.
He’s going to kill me; I can see it in his eyes: pure, unadulterated rage.
I put my hands up in a defensive move, but he grabs me by the throat, dragging me back words to the wall.
My feet are barely touching the floor, I’m on my tippy toes, keeping me upright and he’s squeezing. His face is red, and his eyes are narrow. I don’t even think he sees me. I grab at his wrist and try to pull it away to suck air into my lungs, but it’s no use. My eyes water and I begin to panic.
“Did you think we were that fucken dumb that we wouldn’t find out?” He yells in my face as he shakes papers. I try to swallow, and suck in air, but he squeezes harder on my throat, cutting off more air.
“Everything leaves a trail, bunny and Sebastian found yours. You played a good game, you, and your daddy. I almost fell for you, almost. You were so close to getting me to believe the lies and you knew it.”
He finally lets go of my throat and I fall to the floor, holding my neck, coughing, and sucking in gulps of air.
The tears are streaming down my face, and I curl onto my side, shaking my head no.
I don’t understand what he is talking about.
He’s screaming at me now and my ears ring, the pounding in my head as well as my heart make it hard to hear.
I crawl back and use the wall to support my body.
I try to talk, but the pain is too much, and my words only come out cracked and broken. I don’t know what he’s talking about with my father, but the only thing I signed was my trust fund from my grandpa. Trying one more time to speak through the sobs.
“T-t-trust.” I stammer. I try to get out my trust fund papers. I rub my throat, but that’s all I can get out. He squats in front of me and grips me by my chin, making my lips pucker.
“Trust you? I don’t fucken think so, bunny.”
I shake my head slightly. That is not what I was saying, but he doesn’t see me. He’s cold and evil. Like my life doesn’t mean a thing and at this point and no matter what I say, he will never listen or believe me. His mind is made up of the crime he thinks I committed.
He holds the papers in my face once again.
“This, little bunny, is evidence of your betrayal, not only to me, but to the organization as a whole. Fourteen million dollars’ worth of betrayal.”
He’s screaming louder in my face now and I start to do a full body shake. I close my eyes and wait for the hand to close around my throat and finally take the last bit of air from my lungs. But he leans in closer and lowers his voice so cold and ominous.
“You and Daddy thought you could walk in here, make me believe in your innocence and fall for you, marry you, and get rid of us and take my father’s chair?”
He stands up and towers over me. It hurts to look up, but I do.
“You thought you could get away with it; marry me, fuck me, tease me, and make me want something I never knew I wanted. Well, guess what bunny? You thought you signed to win, but the only thing you signed was your death warrant.”
He turns and starts to walk away. Sebastian and Carlos come running in and stop short at the end of the couch and look at me, crying on the floor. I look up at Sebastian and he looks down at me with disgust and pity, and it breaks my heart even more.
“I didn’t do anything”; I tried to say it, but it never leaves my mouth. Carlos leaves without saying a word, or even looking at me at all, and I slide down the wall, my body crumpling on the floor as I hold my crushed throat.
The door closes, the room falls quiet, except for my sobs and ragged breathing.
I’ve felt pain before; I’ve felt betrayal from my family.
But this pain in my chest is beyond anything I have ever felt.
I’d rather he had killed me than leave me lying on the floor knowing they all hate me for reasons I don’t understand.
I don’t know how long I lay there as I look out over the carpet.
The coffee table is tipped over, the dishes are smashed, and my flowers are a crumpled pile of dust and sticks.
Stretching my hand out, I run my finger along a withered stem.
My hourglass has run out. I close my eyes and silent tears run hot on my cheeks, slowly pick myself up and crawl over to the tray, setting it upright on the floor.
I work on autopilot, mindlessly picking up pieces of glass and food, putting them on the tray. The vase is smashed, and I put the pieces in a pile on the tray. Then crawl over to the coffee table, trying to tip it back up when a set of hands grabs the other end and helps me set it right.
I look up and Sasha is there, her eyes full of pity and remorse.
“They are all gone now, Isabella. They left twenty minutes ago.” She rounds the coffee table and grabs my elbow, helping me stand.
“Come sit, please. I got this.”
I do as she says, and I watch her. It’s like I can’t think, or I’m thinking too much.
I’m just numb. Sasha takes the tray to the door and comes back to me.
“Let me see your neck.” I shake my head and hold my throat.
I don’t want anyone touching me right now.
She holds her hand up in surrender. “I understand, I do. Can you talk?”
I try to say yes, but nothing comes out and I cry over the pain shooting through my throat.
“I thought as much.” She shakes her head sadly. “I’ve worked for some fucked up people, but this? This is fucked up. Come on, let’s run you a bath, and put a cold cloth on your throat.”