Chapter 20 ~ Alexander #2
I plop into my chair and rest my head on the back of it. I’m so fucken tired, but I have a full day ahead of me. Closing my eyes I try to calm myself down. My father is the epitome of calm in times like this when emotions override clear thinking.
I sit up straight and run my hand through my hair. I can do this. Remain calm, like my father, and shove all emotions aside. Clicking on my computer to bring up the security feed. Scrolling through each room until I find her bedroom camera.
She’s closing the bedroom door, tossing her sweater behind her as she makes her way to the bathroom.
I’m assuming she’s going to shower. For once she is listening to what I tell her.
Easing back in my chair I press the intercom for the kitchen.
Rose answers, and I ask her to prepare a full breakfast tray for Isabella and bring a coffee to my office.
I keep checking her monitor as I pull folders out and start packing my briefcase for the trip. She comes out of the bathroom in a towel and heads to her suitcase and pulls out a pair of jeans and a sweater. A pill bottle falls to the floor. She bends to pick it up.
Her expression makes my stomach knot as she holds the bottle tight in her hand and looks up at the ceiling as tears fall down her cheeks.
I’m standing now, leaning on my desk as I focus on the screen as I watch her grip the bottle and look at the bathroom and back at her hand.
I watch as she goes into the bathroom and my heart drops. She wouldn’t, would she?
I’m frozen. My chest is so tight I can’t suck air in. I make a move to the door, and I see her come out and head back to her suitcase. Dropping back in my chair I put my head on the desk and breathe a sigh of relief.
I look up at the screen. She’s just pulling her sweater on. She heads to the door and looks around her room. I click on the hall monitor and watch her as she places her hand on my door, wiping away tears.
She’s headed down the hall. Rose knocks on my door and comes in with my coffee, places it on the side of my desk and leaves.
I take a sip; click on the foyer, and watch as she smiles at Carlos. They exchange a few words, and she’s now heading to my office.
The door opens, and Isabella crosses the room quietly to my desk.
She sets the keys down and takes her seat across from me, gathering her hair over one shoulder to hold in her hands on her lap.
Isabella looks up into my eyes; she's not hiding her face from me.
Her demeanour is one of humility and quiet acceptance.
No tears, no apologetic pleas--just a stoic expression on her face.
I was prepared for a weeping mess, not those detached green eyes staring at me. I clear my throat continuing to tell her the rules she must follow while I’m away. Still, she gives no response, not one ripple on her face, or any reaction at all. How far will I have to take this before she breaks?
So I push harder, telling her Anna won’t be allowed in my home until my return. Still nothing, just a porcelain doll with green eyes boring into mine. I didn’t want her tears before, but now, I’d give anything to see at least a sheen in her eyes, anything.
Like the cruel bastard I am, I double the threat and tell her about the call I placed to her boss yesterday evening, requesting her time off to prepare for the wedding.
The only indication that she understood what I said was her hands gripping her hair tighter, turning her knuckles white.
Isabella releases her grip quickly and I finish telling her the remainder of the rules till I come home.
I wait. I watch her closely, waiting for anything, any sign she will fight, scream, or show any reaction at all.
She doesn’t move or say a word. She sits there quietly, holding her now drying hair in her hand with that stoic expression on her face.
My anger rises again. I don’t know what I wanted out of this exchange. I expected to argue, to lay down the law, to show her how shaken I was by the whole thing. But how can you argue with someone who doesn't fight back?
Her calm demeanour makes me feel as though I did something wrong and just like when she left me in the dining room, I sit here holding my dick in the air with nowhere to vent my frustrations.
Finally excusing her to leave and go to her room. I bring up the monitor on the foyer camera so I can watch her reactions when she thinks she is out of my view. She exchanges a few words with Carlos and walks up the stairs.
Carlos scowls at my office door and then clenches his fist, turning and walking away. He's pissed and showed more reaction than Isabella had during the half hour she sat at my desk.
I follow her as she walks down the hall, opening her door. I bring up her room on full screen and she sits on the couch, her hands folded in her lap, her feet resting on the coffee table. She just sits there staring at the window.
What the hell?
No tears, no throwing her pillows, nothing that I would expect out of a woman who’s been told she’s a prisoner till I get back. She doesn’t weep for her friend, her job, or her freedom. Nothing.
Sasha arrives with her breakfast; they exchange a few words, and Isabella sits on the couch preparing her meal while Sasha leaves.
She picks up her plate and sits on the window seat overlooking the backyard. All I can see is her shoulder and half her body. She’s tucked into the wall eating her breakfast.
Once she is done, she moves the tray to the door and then sits down on the couch again, staring at the bouquet she moved to the table.
I notice her hand wringing a few times before she settles back into the couch, raising her feet to the coffee table once more, and begins to pick at her finger with her thumb, silently staring at the flowers.
I watch her for a few more minutes and then leave my office, heading for my bedroom to pack the last of my clothes for the trip.
I need to head into the office before meeting my father to get on the plane for New York. Jogging up the stairs, and heading down the hall, I stop at her door to put my ear closer, but nothing. No noise, no quiet sobs not even the sound of the TV.
Silent.
Crossing the hall I enter my bedroom and send Carlos a text, telling him I’ll be down in a few minutes and that we would head to the office.
His reply is simple: Okay.
Tossing my extra suits in the garment bag and heading to the bathroom, I shove my shaving kit and the few essentials I’ll need into my travel kit and zip it up. I take a quick look around and turn the light off. I grab my garment bag and my duffle bag and head out.
I stare at her door and hold my breath for a few heartbeats, waiting to hear anything or any movement behind her door. The stillness in the hall is deafening. My stomach rolls slightly, and I want to check on her but I know I did the right thing.
She’s careless with her safety and I can’t afford to be wondering the whole time I'm away where and what she’s doing. This trip is important and I need to concentrate, and she’s a major distraction right now.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Carlos is nowhere to be seen.
I text him. “Where are you?”
“In the car.”
Well, fuck you too.
I open the door, walk down the stairs, and open the passenger door, throwing my garment bag and my duffel bag on the seat. I unbutton my suit jacket and climb in the car beside them, slamming the door shut. I lock my gaze on Carlos in the rearview mirror, raising one eyebrow at him.
“Office.” I look out the window. He says nothing and pulls away.
In our entire friendship, not once have we ever ridden in a car without talking. He is angry at me for Isabella’s punishment; I assume. But fuck him. I need her safe in my home where I can see her and know she’s okay.
We arrive at the parking garage, and Carlos gets out. I don’t wait for him to open my door. I get out and head to the elevator. He follows behind and I push the up button. The door swishes open and we step in. Carlos leans his back against the wall, tilts his head back, and stares at the ceiling.
I look over at him pouting in the corner. “Do you plan on not talking to me the entire trip?”
He doesn’t look at me and speaks to the ceiling. “I will when I find the right words.”
What the fuck does that mean? I raise one eyebrow. The elevator dings and the doors open to our floor. He gets out and goes straight to his office. I watch him walk away from me.
Shaking my head, I go to my office and sit down at my desk. Turning on my computer, I add the files Sebastian left for me to let my father read. The computer comes to life and I type in my password.
The security feed from the house pops up on the full screen. I guess I didn’t close it yesterday.
I can’t help myself. I bring up the footage of Isabella’s bedroom.
She is still sitting on the couch, staring at that stupid vase of flowers. She hasn’t moved, still picking her finger with her thumb.
I scroll over and click the zoom a few times, dragging the mouse so it focuses on her finger. I hit zoom again. Her finger is bleeding now, the skin raw, blood seeping to the surface.
She just keeps flicking the tender skin with her thumb. I move the cursor, bringing her face into full view.
She just blinks every few seconds looking at those stupid flowers. No tears on her cheeks, not even a wince mars her face as she flicks the tender flesh of her finger. Like an android, she is silent and emotionless.
What the fuck kind of game is she playing now?
“Ready?” My father’s deep voice snaps me out of staring at her and he comes around my desk. I quickly hit the X, shutting down the feed. I click Shut Down, grab my files and put them in my briefcase.
My father raises one eyebrow and points at my computer. His voice is deep and cold as he says, “Explain.” I guess I didn't close the screen out fast enough. Fuck.
I need to perfect that. The way he uses very few words to get his point across. I stop short at the end of my desk. The hair on the back of my neck raises just like it did as a child when I knew I was in shit.
“It’s nothing, just a screen saver.” I step around him and head to the door.
“I didn’t realize screen savers have a running clock in the corner with a caption saying Isabella’s room.”
I freeze and take a big breath in. No matter how this comes out, I’ll look like an asshole again.
“I want to watch her while I’m away.” I face him, hiking up my briefcase. “Once you read this, you’ll understand.”
He scowls at the computer once more and adjusts his tie as he comes towards me. He points at my case.
“It better be fucken good. Because in the few seconds, I watched that video, that girl had been crying again.”
He walks past me. Carlos is at my door watching us, and he turns and follows behind my father, leaving me alone in my office.
I’m right. I know I’m right.
She has to stay where I can see her, where I know she is safe. When I reach the elevator, I stand beside my father, waiting for the door to open. The ding is the only sound that has transpired between all of us in the last five minutes, and we all step in silently as the doors close.
No matter what they think of me, I know I’m right.
To Be Continued