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5
Isabella
Maddox can’t take his eyes off of me and I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t feel good. He looks stunned, dumbfounded, and aroused. Should I be disgusted? Yes, repulsed even. But I like the way he’s looking at me. It’s primal and desperate; as if I’m the only woman in the world he cares to gawk at. It makes me feel powerful, that I could command a strong man so easily, just by wearing a cute little red dress.
There’s got to be something wrong with me. I sit down opposite him, smiling. My dad’s gaze shifts from Maddox to me and back. “Young love is always the sweetest.” The words slip from his lips.
My cheeks start burning instantly and I turn away from Maddox. I don’t get too lost in my own embarrassment, before the door behind me swings open. The rest of the Braddock clan is led into the dining room by Atticus, the family butler.
Oswald steps through first, followed by Bobby, Aaron, Carter, and Liza following behind. Dad gets out of his chair, while the Braddocks walk over to kiss The King’s ring.
“Mister Romani,” Oswald speaks first, taking Dad’s hand.
“Oswald, always a pleasure,” Dad replies.
“And here’s the bride to be.” Oswald turns to me. I extend a hand to him, and he presses his lips against my knuckle. “Always amazing to see you, Isabella.”
“Hello, Oswald,” I reply. “It’s good to see you too.”
Maddox stays still in his chair. He looks displeased, uncomfortable, and nervous. I’d much rather have him gawking at me like some schoolboy in love again, than this.
One by one, Oswald’s children greet my father, then me, and find a place. Oswald sits at the foot of the table, with Liza and Bobby at his sides. Aaron takes a seat beside Maddox and Carter sits next to me.
We fill a few minutes with small talk before dinner is served. We eat with no conversation. It’s customary to get through dinner, before any business or pleasure is discussed. A rule my dad set, and everyone seems to follow without question.
After our meal of salmon, potatoes, and other mixed vegetables, my dad lights a cherry cigar and so does Oswald. Maddox keeps his head down, focusing on his empty plate. What’s going through his head? What does he know that we don’t? I guess we’ll find out soon enough.
“So, tomorrow’s the big day then,” Oswald says, sipping at his drink. “I can’t believe it. My little boy is finally becoming a man.”
How many more times do I have to be reminded of it? All week, all I’ve heard is that I’m set to be married tomorrow. Yet, no one has asked for my input on a single thing. Every detail of this grand affair has been prepared by overpaid planners and professionals in their field. I can’t even have a dream wedding, before being handed over to a man I don’t want to marry. I also can’t even enjoy my final night as a free woman, without having to have it all forced on me through conversation.
A grunt escapes Maddox. He stills it with a sip of liquor. I focus on observing Maddox, rather than inserting myself into the conversation. He holds himself with strength and vigor; a silent conqueror, never speaking out of turn, yet, always demanding the respect of the room.
“Calling Maddox Braddock a little boy is the same as calling your King a pauper,” my dad replies. One brow’s raised high in annoyance at Oswald’s remark. It’s rare to see him like this; so passionate about anyone but himself or his organization. Almost endearing I’d say, if he weren’t the one handing me off.
“I don’t mean it like that,” Oswald snickers. “I’m just proud is all. Soon, our houses will be one. Think of all we can do standing side by side.”
“Please, elaborate. What is it you think we can do?” Dad asks.
The question catches Oswald off guard. He stutters over the start of his sentence, and then struggles to find his footing. He clears his throat, puffs on his cigar, and finally manages to get words out. “Well, you see, it’s just; I thought you were trying to unite our houses by having your daughter marry my son. Am I wrong to assume such things?”
An awkward silence fills the room, with no one stepping in to break it.
“Maybe I’ve got the wrong impression of what’s going on here,” Oswald adds.
“Maybe you do,” Dad says, rolling the cigar between his fingers. “This marriage doesn’t involve you, Oswald. I want to make that very clear.”
Oswald’s face turns sour. The rest of the Braddock kinship follow with annoyed looks, although none of them are brave enough to speak out against The King.
“Then why even invite us here at all?” Oswald demands. His face is red with fury.
“I didn’t invite you,” Dad replies.
“Exactly. You inserted yourself into something that has nothing to do with you,” Maddox steps in. His napkin is clutched in a balled fist, and his knuckles are bright white.
“Is that right?” Oswald asks.
“Yes, that’s right,” I jump in. Why not? I’ve never really gotten involved in family drama and this might be fun.
