I push off the door and take a few steps toward her. "For your sake, I hope the people out there thought those were happy tears. What the fuck Isabella? It’s a wedding, not a fucken funeral.”
She takes a deep breath and, in a thin voice, says, “This was your wedding. Yours and my father's, not mine. Today I lost my life, my career and the chance to find the love of a man who could have loved me and only me." She looks down at her lap. "No, Alexander, today I mourn the life I lost. My wedding day would have been to a man would have been my everything. It’s not my wedding day, Alexander. It is my funeral."
Shock, anger and pain riddle my body at her words. She is so fucken calm as she rips my chest open. I don't love her, not like she wants to be loved, but I thought we could build something, a friendship at least. Find some even ground in this situation.
She looks down and picks at her flowers. “I’m fine now.” She looks up at me and that fucken imitation smile is plastered on her face.
She tilts her head to the side. “I’ll be the perfect bride.” She holds up two fingers above her head. “Scouts’ honor.”
I can’t even respond to that. What the hell?
I take a step towards her, close enough to smell the lilies off her warm skin, and point in her face as the cold wave of rejection hardens my voice; “You’re telling me that five minutes ago, in front of all those people, you compared marrying me to your death?”
She remains perfectly still. Her emotionless green eyes look right through me, and she remains silent.
“Answer me!” I roar. She doesn’t even flinch or jump; she just stares at me, her face vacant and emotionless.
I can’t control myself and I jerk her up out of her chair to stand before me and shake her by the shoulders, holding her in front of me. “Answer me, damn it!”
Her eyes dart across my face, scrutinizing the rage burning in my eyes. She looks at my lips, at my eyebrows that are furrowed, then back into my eyes. Her breathing is slow and steady, and she is not fearful of my rage as I expected. She’s…expressionless.
She’s treating me like I’m one of her fucken paintings instead of her new husband, whom she basically said she’d rather die than marry. I drop her and she stands there, quiet and still, holding those flowers like a marble statue.
We lock our gazes on each other. The silence grows between us. My breathing becomes increasingly louder in my ears as I watch her, waiting for her response.
“Fine, don’t fucken answer.” I push her away and walk to the center of the room, rubbing my forehead. Sebastian opens the door and comes in completely oblivious of the tension between Isabella and I. He passes me, and goes over to Isabella and hugs her tight.
“You look absolutely stunning.” He kisses her cheek and holds her back from him so he can look her over. She smiles back at him. Her cheeks are pink from the compliment, her eyes bright and shining as she dips her head and says thank you. She willingly gives him what I will never have.
Her warmth.
“Cars at the curb. Are you two ready to run the gauntlet?” Sebastian smiles and lets her go to face me.
I nod and step up beside Isabella. She places her hand on my forearm and we follow Sebastian out the door; her face is a relaxed posie of elegance with that plastic smile spread across her lips.
Chapter 6 ~ Isabella
I watch Alexander attempt to navigate the course of emotions that strain across his face. He is struggling to understand what is happening, and as usual, the only emotion he can hang on to for certainty is anger.
In a strange sort of way, his resentment towards me is justified. He had expected me to cower at his feet. The endless toy he could play rough with and then toss it aside when he was done, deeming it to remain as he found it. I was once. I would have remained that girl, but he took everything that meant anything to me and left an empty shell in its place.
He wants an answer, and I gave him one. It doesn’t matter at this point because I made a promise to myself that I would play the part until I was free.
I study his face as he barks at me. Such a beautiful man.
The need to stroke my finger down the center of his forehead and rub the crease away. I’d like to silence his anger with a tender kiss on those soft lips, if only to see him smile. To ease the tension in his face as I run my fingers through his hair, feeling his whiskers coarse against my palm as I cupped his cheek.
If I loved him.
I’d do anything if he were the man who deserved to wear that ring; the never-ending circle that would show the worldthat my heart is his. But it doesn’t. He holds me close now, his fingers pinching my shoulders, waiting and watching, believing I’ll tell him my reason for saying what I said.
He scrutinizes my face, his eyes narrowing and turning silver. He’s breathing heavily through his nostrils. I watch him struggle to comprehend how I could say such a horrible thing. My heart splinters once again at the loss of who we could have been if things were different.
Finally accepting I won’t explain myself, he tosses me aside and walks away. The door opens and Sebastian comes in, unaware of the soundless conflict between us. He hugs me, and I hug him back, thanking him for his compliment. The car is ready and we have to make our way through our loving family and friends as they toss rose petals at us.
Placing my hand on his arm and I smile like a loving wife should as he guides me out of the room and we make the hurried run to the car. He holds the door open for me as I slide in; he follows as Carlos closes the door.
I move to the seat across from him, my back to Carlos. Settling myself as close to the window as I can, picking the cream rose petals from my hair and dress and carefully placing them in a small pile on my lap.
