Page 15 of Fractured
“No,” I whisper and face the door once again.
“Then what are you exactly, Isabella?” he says coarsely.
“Heartbroken.” I loop my arm through his. “Smile Alexander, it’s showtime.”
Chapter 3 ~ Alexander
I woke up in the morning with full intentions of heading back to Chicago by this afternoon. I can't wait to get out of this shit-hole city. Not that I'm looking forward to reuniting with Isabella, but at least at home I'll have a better chance of keeping an eye on her.
After I've finally fully woken up, the first thing I do is roll over and reach for my phone. I bring up the camera feed for Isabella’s room. She’s sitting on the couch again. I’m not sure what the ladies have planned for today, but I don’t like the idea of her always eating alone in her room.
I send a quick text message to Sasha telling her to go get Isabella and bring her to the dining room. Maybe I am a sick bastard, but I’d like to watch her eat. She always has herself tucked away in the window seat and I can’t see her face.
I put my phone down and head to the shower. I turn on the water and step under the spray. We have one more meeting this morning and then we get to go home. Not that I will be getting away from these pricks any time soon. Three-quarters of the guest list is Organization members. I feel like all I do is eat, sleep and wake up with these people.
I shake my head in disbelief as the water runs down my back.
We will get married tomorrow.
Twisting the tap off, I grab a towel off the rack and wrap it around my waist, walking over to the sink to shave quickly andbrush my teeth. Grabbing a hand towel to dry my hair, I head over to the bed to sit down. Tapping the app, I bring up the camera for the dining room, but she hasn’t arrived yet.
Tossing my phone on the bed, I go to my closet, get dressed and throw the rest of my stuff in my duffle bag and put my suits from the dry cleaners into my garment bag, getting everything ready to go. Slipping on my watch, I clasp it and toss my garment bag on the bed and sit down beside it to pick up my phone.
Isabella is sitting at the dining room table. She’s slowly forcing herself to eat hash browns. My eyebrows draw together, she is pale and her hands are shaking. The dark smudges under her eyes give me concern and she looks thinner in the face.
Watching her closely, she takes a bite of toast and holds her hand to her mouth. Her hand shakes as she tries to swallow. Her other hand holds her stomach as she slightly lurches in her seat, forcing the food to stay down.
What the hell is going on?
She holds her chest as she tries again to chew. She takes another sip of coffee, forcing the mouthful of food down with a sip.
I minimize the feed and text Sasha.
Alexander:Is she ill? She’s gagging on her food? What’s wrong with her?
Sasha:I don’t know, sir. Her plate is always empty when I pick up her tray. Could it be nerves? Tomorrow is the big day. Maybe she’s just nervous.
Alexander:I can't watch this. Inform her that she's free to go. Simply keep an eye on her for the remainder of the day, but keep me informed. I'm curious whether she eats anything else today.
Sasha places a kind touch on Isabella's shoulder. I watch as she stands up and walks slowly to the door. I activate the camerain the entryway and watch her as she gradually makes her way up the stairs and down the hall to her room.
I click on her bedroom feed as she closes the bedroom door, resting against it. She’s holding her stomach, puts a hand to her mouth, and lurches forward. She runs to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. What little food she ate I know she just threw up.
A sense of panic overwhelms me and that tight feeling in my chest gets even tighter. I should call my mother and tell her to watch out for her today. The girls have some kind of spa day happening downtown before the rehearsal. If she shows any more signs of being ill, I’ll have our family doctor come and look at her.
I try to mentally brush the unease away. Maybe she's just nervous like Sasha suggested.
I switch off the feed and walk into the living room to find Carlos drinking coffee and sitting on the couch. I explain what I witnessed and ask him if I should call the doctor. He, like Sasha, attributes it to nerves. I'm still feeling uneasy in my stomach, and that tight feeling is back in my chest. Something doesn't feel right.
We met my father and Sebastian at the hotel restaurant for breakfast, but I’m not exactly hungry. I’m concerned for Isabella, and the pain in my chest is getting tighter. I rub it and my father looks at me, but quickly turns back to the conversation Sebastian and Carlos are having.
I'm not hearing anything. I keep seeing Isabella's white face as she tries to eat the toast. Her eyes have black circles, and she appears to have lost weight. It's not much, but it's noticeable in the way her clothing fits differently. She's got to be sick with something.
“You alright?” My father asks quietly.
I rub my chest again. “Yeah. Isabella’s not feeling well. She wassick this morning.”
My father looks at my chest then back up at me, “I’ll call your mother, have her watch her today.”
