And while they love each other,thatis not in question at all, they do constantly argue.
As she disappears down the stairs, I’m struck by a heaviness. Guilt weighs down my shoulders. I reach up and rub the back of my neck, massaging the tension from my muscles.
I shouldn’t have brought up her brother in that way. It was a low blow. It was never my intention to throw something like that in her face. As I said, we are all dangerous men in the mafia, and it wasn’t fair to push that information onto her.
Dammit. I’m trying to pull her closer to me, not push her away.
Well done, Anton. You’re doing a stellar job on that front.
***
Izabel moved to a different room. I had the men take all her things from that room and unpack them neatly in a new room that didn’t smell of smoke or have an ash-colored stain on the walls. I’ll get a clean-up crew into her old room in case she wants to go back into that one.
She muttered a lot about the chandelier, surprising me that she liked it so much, so I made sure they polished it and moved it into her new room.
My obsession with Izabel is consuming me.
Whenever I’m not busy, I find myself sitting on my phone or laptop watching the live security feed that is set up around the mansion.
I watch her.
I watch her reading.
Or walking around the garden outside in the cold.
I watch her making food in the kitchen and going to the gym on the top floor.
And when she's bored, I watch her walking up and down the hallways, looking at the art on the walls, studying it in great detail.
I know Izabel likes to draw. I hacked into her iPad and found her private collection of digital art that she has on there. It’s fucking magnificent. She’s a very talented artist.
Of course, I can’t tell her that, because firstly, she isn’t speaking to me, and secondly, I would also have to tell her I hacked into her iPad, which isn’t going to get me any points.
She doesn’t know I sent men back to her apartment to get the device. A risky move, in case her brother or Josiah was watching her apartment, but like I said, I’m obsessed with knowing everything about her.
It feels mean to keep it from her, seeing as she clearly draws on it a lot. But I can’t risk her using it to contact anyone.
I’ll ask the tech guys if maybe they can block off the device’s internet connection. She’d be thrilled to have it, I’m sure.
It’s late morning, and I’m drinking my second cup of coffee, watching her walk around the mansion. She’s looking at the art again. She’s been staring at a favorite piece of mine by an artist that very few people have heard of, but I can already tell is going to be making big waves in the industry. I’ve purchased three of his works so far and plan to buy more.
She reaches up and hovers her hand above the canvas, not touching it, but almost resonating with it, as though she can feel the energy of the painting vibrating from it.
She steps away from the canvas and looks up and down the hallway as though wondering what to do next.
Izabel sighs and rubs her hands over her face.
She’s bored. Of course, she’s bored, because she spent the last few years galivanting all over the place, living freely while avoiding her brother’s controlling nature.
Izabel is not used to being so cooped up like this.
Maybe that is one way to get her to connect with me!
Pushing away from my laptop, I head into the house to find her.
She’s still wandering the same hallway.
“Izabel, get ready, we’re going out,” I tell her.
