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I can’t help it. I want to inhale this moment. Fucking roll it up in some blunt papers and smoke it. “Well, I guess I never divorced her.”
Isa
My ex-husband isn’t an asshole, he’s just straight-up evil. The kind you can’t tame, let alone pour holy water on.
“You can’t force me to stay here.” I don’t know why that’s all I can reply with after he so ruthlessly dropped that bomb.
Movement out of the corner of my eye distracts me as Stacey launches off her chair. “Why would you do this?” Oh good. She’s pissed too.
Bryant ignores Stacey, his focus solely on me. “Actually, I can, and I will, or have you forgotten how persuasive I can be?”
I hadn’t. I don’t think I ever will.
Stacey tosses her hands in the air. “Why, Bryant?”
He continues to ignore her.
I like playing with fire, especially when the starter is Bryant. “And if I don’t?” I ask, rounding the table to take a seat on Max’s lap. If Bryant wants to play, I can play. I watch as his eyes harden, the veins beneath his ink on his arms pulsing as he clenches his fist.
It bothers him that I’m on Max.
Good.
Max’s hand flexes around my thigh.
Bryant leans forward, his eyes on mine. “I think you know very well what I’m capable of, Mrs. Royal.”
I flinch at the use of his last name, sliding off Max’s lap. As much as I want to poke the bear, I’m painfully aware of what he said before coming back in here. I need to know what he needs me to play along with.
“Fine, I’ll stay.”
“What?” Max shoots up from his chair, just as I slide into the one beside him. “You don’t have to do this, Isa. We can figure out another way.”
Oh sweet Max. He underestimates Bryant immensely and knowing Bryant, that would appease him.
I shake my head. “No.” Pinning Bryant with a cold stare, I add, “I will stay. But what about your fiancée?”
“Thank you!” Stacey exhales, huffing theatrically. “What about me?”
As if in slow motion, Bryant’s head slowly turns toward Stacey, his cold, dead eyes up to hers. “You’ll stay too.”
Max shuffles on his feet. “Both of them?”
Bryant’s evil chuckle doesn’t sit right with me. It’s like curdled milk after being left on the counter for too long. “Both for different reasons, Max. Pay attention.”
He’s planning something. There’s no way Bryant would be this calm if he wasn’t.
Romance died the day you stopped loving me.
-Bryant
Jerry directs me to my bedroom, leaving Bryant and Stacey arguing in the kitchen. I feel sick that I’m doing this. Living in his house with his fiancée, but I know Bryant, and he doesn’t do anything without a plan. A reason.
“You’ll be alright in here. trouble?” Jer asks, gesturing to a bedroom at the opposite side of where I know Bryant’s room is.
It’s beautiful. There’s a small porch that drags out and welcomes the morning sun with mesh curtains that drift in with the breeze, but it’s not where I want to be. I don’t want to be this close to Bryant.
“Actually,” I murmur, reaching out to Jer’s arm. “Could I take one of the rooms on the ground level? I would prefer to be able to come and go without the devil lurking around every corner.”
Jer laughs, nodding his head. “I don’t see why that would be a problem. Come on.”
This room is not as big or beautiful as the bedrooms on the third level, it’s actually more of a granny flat, but it’s what I need. Something that doesn’t remind me of Bryant. That I’m living in his house. Away from the riches and crystal chandeliers. It’s tucked behind the kitchen, so away from the other wing of the lower level. I haven’t seen that area yet. Whatever is behind the red door.
“I’ll get Amanda and the girls to bring all of your clothing and personal items that you left with Bryant down here. Ash is busy right now.” Jer leaves, closing the door behind himself.
I venture into the room. The queen bed is against a clean white wall and there’s an open sliding door that leads out to the wrap-around porch. The curtains are the same color as the walls, and the sheets and bedding a soft beige.
I like it.
It feels sterile.
Quiet.
There are two other doors inside the room. One leads to a bathroom with a medium-sized tub, and the other to a small walk-in closet. Even the lesser of the bedrooms in this house is licked in opulence.
A gentle knock on the door pulls me out of my snooping. Amanda and another girl, a little older than us, are holding bags and suitcases.
Amanda drops everything onto the floor and flings her arms around my neck. She pulls me in deeper. “I missed you.”
I exhale. “Same.”
Pushing me back, she searches my eyes. Amanda is in her early twenties, way too smart, but had a rough start to life. She takes care of everything that Bryant needs, whether it be cleaning, cooking, housekeeping, gardening. She also manages the rest of the cleaning and housekeepers that Bryant has on staff. She grew on both Bryant and I instantly after meeting her. We went through applicant after applicant to try to find the right person to help us out with Harper, but all of them were either too old, too tired, not enthusiastic enough, or too enthusiastic. Amanda walked into Bryant’s office and told us she didn’t want to be here.
