61. Roman
Iwatched the nymph walk to the living room to get the profiteroles from the table. God she was exquisite, and she was all mine.
My sweet, the things I’m willing to do for you.
As I refilled our glasses with champagne I glanced up, expecting Isabel to be on her way back to our bed. But she was standing in the living room, and she had become very still. And I wasn’t prepared for the sudden change in the air, the shudder rippling through her and her body recoiling as if to ward off the sudden infliction of pain.
Then I saw it. The phone in her hand. I remembered the ding earlier, alerting her to a text, and then I knew. I knew who that text was from and what it said. I watched Isabel spiral onto the couch, unable to support the weight of her grief.
And our world ceased to breathe.
My chest constricted, my hands were shaking. Fear clenched my heart like an iron fist. I was about to lose the one thing that gave meaning to my existence, the woman whose essence ran in my veins. And there was nothing I could do.
I had underestimated the Russian entirely. It was my business to know human nature, dissect people to find their strengths and vulnerabilities. My success relied on my ability to understand my adversaries. But I was so blinded by jealousy that I never realized the Russian would fight back and destroy my life as I did his.
When Isabel got up from the couch, she was texting someone. Was she texting Sergei, planning to run back into his arms? Perhaps I should have thought of the terrible thing I did that led up to this moment, but instead jealousy dug its claws into me and wouldn’t let go. The only thought blasting through my mind was that I couldn’t lose Isabel. I had to stop her from leaving.
I put on my boxer briefs and staggered toward the living room.
“Isabel.”
If I thought she was going to give me a chance to apologize and tell her what an absolute fool I’d been, I was wrong. Very very wrong. Her eyes anchored into mine and all that love and passion I’d seen not five minutes ago, was gone. Replaced by bitterness, unimaginable grief, and pure hatred.
“I was prepared to give you everything and get back nothing of what I deserved,” she said, her voice barely audible. “And you destroyed the one thing that I cared for my entire life without thinking twice. You will never see me again.”
Every word a sharp, relentless punch to my gut. I watched her get dressed and fold up her quilt. I felt sick with fear. If she took the quilt, she was done.
There were no thoughts to hold onto, no ideas to coagulate into something coherent that would make sense. Just this frantic desire within, gnawing at my guts and demanding she see that what I did, I did for her. That there was nothing, not even a moral compass that stood in the way of what I was willing to do to show her my love and devotion.
But I didn’t, because there was no denying that what I’d done was unjustifiable, or that I’d defiled everything love was supposed to be. I could only watch as she answered the sharp knock at the door, as if expecting someone to rescue her from me.
Steven. Of course. Charring the air with a vicious look he blew my way before gently guiding Isabel from the apartment and shutting the door in my face.
And just like that, Isabel was gone.
In a moment of calmness, Ipushed away the fear, the loss, the anger and heartache, and I summoned back the old Roman, the one who suffocated all feelings and emotions, packing them away in hard-to-reach places.
I didn’t go back to bed. Instead I got dressed and went to the office. And I waited. I waited because I wanted to believe that Isabel would come back. That she wasn’t running away from me. That this wasn’t the end. Even if I strongly suspected it was.
A sickening ache spread from my stomach to my throat, constricting my breath, and it felt like my chest was being cleaved open with a scythe, releasing every modicum of emotion I’d ever suppressed. And then I cried. I cried for the first time since I was a very small child. I cried for inflicting all this unnecessary pain on Isabel, I cried for my father who might never know how much his two sons just needed his love, and I cried for the man who had a chance at profound happiness and fucked it up beyond repair.
Steven came to my office two days later, his feathers ruffled, his tone like dry ice. “You’ll have to sleep at some point. The last thing we need is another Belmont in need of medical care.”
“Where is she?” I asked. “Just tell me where she is.”
“She’s somewhere safe. Very far away from you.”
“Is she coming back?”
“No, Roman. She’s not. Byron will be released from the hospital today. It might be a good idea to get him started on things and keep him occupied. We don’t want him to be idle and risk the chance of him slipping back into his old habits again.”
As Steven headed out, he turned back at the door. “The thing is I warned you. And now you will have to deal with the consequences. That’s just how life works.”
When my phone dinged with a text, my desperation was borderline delirious. But of course it wasn’t Isabel.
Meg:Motherfucker. What did I tell you about breaking her heart? Which part of I will fuck you up if you hurt Isabel, didn’t you get?
Me:That sounds like a threat.
Meg:Oh, it’s a threat alright.
Me:Don’t tell me you now have second thoughts about working for the Belmont Trust.
Meg:Oh please, I’m not stupid. I’ll use my year with you for some solid street cred and only then will I dump your sorry ass.
Me:Where is she?
Meg:Ugh, like I would ever tell you.
Me:You’ll be working with Byron here at the house. I’ll have Steven contact you about transport. See you in two days.
Two days later Meg showed up as I was talking to Byron in my office, about his new role in Belmont Trust. His bruises were healing and he walked with a cane, but there was no doubt I was dealing with a new man. Which, under better circumstances, would have warranted a celebration.
“Byron this is Meg Belfiore, and Meg this is Byron Belmont, my brother.”
Meg chewed her lip and couldn’t look more put out. She assessed Byron. “Oh, so you’re the asshole.”
Byron smirked. “I prefer the term reformed asshole, but okay.”
“I’m curious, is the truck you ran into okay?” Meg retorted.
“No, it was totaled. Already heading for the scrapyard as we speak.”
“That was almost funny,” she retorted. “I’ll allow it.”
The standoff between them was like a western gunfight at high noon. And if I had any qualms about Meg and Byron working together, they eased rapidly. They were going to be fine.
Meg met my gaze. “Do I have an office, or should I make myself at home on your lovely couch?”
“Two doors down from the conference room, next to Byron’s office,” I told her.
This time she went full-pout, “Not to sound ungrateful, but putting a wholesome, innocent woman next to a maniac like this in the workplace is how many true crime novels start.”
“Call Nelson if you need anything,” I sighed.
Meg strutted from the office. Byron stared after her, seemingly mesmerized. “I like this woman. I like her a lot. Tell you the truth I think she’s magnificent.”
“You’re working together, Byron. Keep that in mind. This is not a one-night-stand whose number you can conveniently lose.”
Byron smiled at me. “I’m done with that shit. Seriously. I can see a long-term contractual relationship with her. And I promise I’ll behave.”
Two weeks later, Emily and my father returned to Belmont Manor. While they were in Rochester, my phone calls with Emily were brief and the conversation didn’t venture beyond my father’s health. But with Emily back at the house, I braced myself for the inevitable.
She invited herself for a drink one late afternoon. Her gin and tonic with bitters and a dash of lime was ready when she strolled into my office. There was no motherly kiss on the cheek. In fact, she looked cross.
“This is not a conversation I ever thought I’d have with you,” she said.
“Oh don’t worry, one more beating won’t make a difference. I’m fully aware of how many people in this house are angry at me.”
Emily lifted her chin and regarded me like an unruly subject disobeying his queen.
“I don’t know what you did to make Isabel abandon us all,” she said. “But I hope you realize it’s not only you who lost her. We all lost her. She brought love and joy to this house. I doubt your father would be doing so well if it wasn’t for her. I love you, you are my son, and you will always be my family. But now you have me once again worried for your well-being, not to mention worried for Isabel’s.”
“Do you know where she is, Emily?”
“Yes, Roman. I know where she is.”
“Just tell me, is she okay?”
“I think it will take a very long time for Isabel to be okay. And from where I’m sitting it seems you’re not doing that well either. Perhaps there is a way to mend all of this, but if there is, that would be entirely up to you.”