Page 48 of Fractured
Placing the chair and put it in front of my easel. I lower the stand and test it a few times by sitting in the chair, getting up and adjusting it till everything is just right.
Snagging my empty jar I head to the bathroom to get some water. My poor flowers. More petals have fallen. And like any addiction, my flower hourglass is all I have to occupy me in this room. Gathering them up, and putting them in my bowl, I smile as I touch the withered stems.
The flowers are mostly dry now, a twisted mass of amber brown and tan stocks forced to curve as they whither. The flower petals fading and curling in on themselves, a once vibrant shade of magenta, now dark burgundy and muddy cream cling to the thin vine. The thick stocks that held them now sunken and distorted, twisting as they dry in a misshapen form frozen in place without the life source needed to flourish.
I hold the drying pedal in my hand, be it my pride or the wayI am trying to manage to play the chess match they set. I will not ask him for anything. My desires and needs have never mattered before and I won’t start now by letting him see any vulnerability if I can help it.
I touch the petal, and it crumbles, turning to dust as it lands on the table. I will not become this lifeless flower, slowly dying, twisted and withered from the rules of men.
Chapter 10 ~ Alexander
I slam her studio door closed and cross the hall, going into my bedroom, slamming my door behind me. I turn to the dresser and wipe it clean. The sound of everything spilling and splintering on the floor is only a dull echo of the rage coursing through my veins right now.
She knows how to wield her words when she chooses to use them. I can feel the slice burn deep as she refused to look at me and blamed me for her battered body. I do not beat or abuse women. The only marks I leave on a woman’s tender flesh are the ones they ask me for. I look up at the ceiling, choking back the scream I want to release.
I am at fault in a perverse sort of way for the marks on her body, but outright abuse did not put them there. They resulted from situations that always lead us down the same fucken highway.
I kick the mess on the floor out of my way and sit on my bed, putting my head in my hands as I grip my hair. Her never-ending cycle of silence drives me insane, as does my craving for her to yield as we dance across this battleground.
Neither of us emerged unscathed.
I roll back onto the bed and rub my hands across my face. When she pushes back, I can’t stop the words that come out of my mouth. She watched me just now with those sad, innocentgreen eyes, and it kills me. Last night, when she looked at me, REALLY, looked at me. I knew she saw more to me than most people ever could, and I wanted her to keep seeing me like that. I wanted her last night in a way I still don’t understand.
I thought we moved forward. I gave her more last night than I’ve given any human on this planet.
Me.
I stroked her velvet skin; I kissed her lips and made her burn, with my sole focus being all about her and how I could make her feel. Once the passion faded, I was back in uncharted territory. I fumbled, trying to find a way to keep her with me, to hold off the ceasefire as long as I could.
I lift my hand above my face, the platinum band so strange wrapped around my finger. I twist the ring in a circle, the bitterness burning in my chest. When I mentioned Sebastian as the only person she would talk to, her lack of response, posture, and the way she held her breath and turned away told me all I needed to know.
Her body language revealed everything to me that she would never express with words. She unknowingly fired the first bullet, and I, of course, fired back with all I had.
I drop my arms and they bounce heavily on the bed, my ring feeling like a weight on my hand.
Isabella may not love Sebastian; they have only met a few times, but he is the type of man she prefers. Funny, kind, and not at all like me, all hard and rough around the edges.
It’s written on her face when she gives me that blank stare, like she’s looking through me instead of at me, and it makes my stomach churn. I could be that for her if she would just stop her bullshit and get in line.
This way of life isn’t a game, and her father is determined towin at any cost. He sacrificed her to me, whether or not she realizes it, to achieve his own goals, and until Jasper returns and we learn the truth, I have to keep her close and take every precaution in case she is her father’s willing pawn in his game.
I get up and grab my bags, and take them to the closet. I hang up the garment bag and unzip it to take out my suit. Her white dress comes tumbling out, half of it pooling on the floor. I take it out and gather the dress in my hands.
She was so soft and warm in my arms as I undid every tiny pearl button, slowly revealing the soft skin underneath as I kissed her tender bruise. I breathe deeply as I bring the smooth silk to my nose. I groan when the aroma of lilies invades my nose.
I hang up her dress and then my suit beside hers. They hang side by side, motionless. Like us, lifeless puppets hanging there, neither of us knowing how to bring the other to life. I kick my duffle bag into the bottom of the closet and close the door.
I’m going to check in with Christopher at the club. During my two weeks away, he’s been having far too much fun. I collect my suit jacket off the bed and open the door to my bedroom. Sasha is positioned outside Isabella’s room and I quickly shut my door, obscuring her view of the wreckage on my floor. She looks at me, nods, and then looks down the corridor, avoiding eye contact.
“Make sure she eats her dinner and check in on her tonight, would you?” I try to keep the tension out of my voice. “She’s bull-headed and if she moves any more furniture around, she’s going to hurt herself.”
Sasha nods and I head down the stairs, turning right at the bottom to go to the kitchen. I swing open the door. Rose screams, and some little brunette drops a bowl of something white, and it splatters with a plop like a heavy water droplet,making a thick wave of goop all over the floor.
A deep sigh escapes my lips as I close my eyes. My mother and Sasha are the only women so far in my life that don’t flinch when I walk into a room.
“If you could send someone up to my room, I’ve knocked over a few things and there’s glass on my floor. Also, Isabella will take her meals in her room for the foreseeable future till I say otherwise.”
Rose nods, “Right away, sir.”
