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 herthumb.
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.
