Page 49 of Fractured
Backing out of the kitchen and heading to my office. I pop my head in, but Carlos isn’t there. I text him and he replies that he’s out by the pool.
I head out the back and he’s sitting on a lounge chair, looking into the water. I straddle the one beside him and plunk down a little too hard.
“What happened?” he mumbles as he cleans his nails with his knife.
“Nothing.” I chirp back too quickly. He looks up at me with those narrow eyes, the ones he uses when he knows I’m full of shit.
“Something is up. Isabella sits with her back to me, so I can’t see her in the rearview mirror anymore. She makes sure she sits as far away from you as she can. She refuses to take her phone back, which we know you put a tracker on. It’s in your office on your desk, by the way. She’s retreating into herself more than she was when she first arrived here.”
I sit down again and rub my face with my hands. Even though it’s been less than 24 hours, I already hate being married.
Carlos flips his knife closed and puts it back in the holster.
“You seemed pretty pissed this morning. You two need to findsome common ground soon, before one or both of you take this too far.”
I drop my hands and look at him. “I don’t know, man. We had a good night. Well, what you people would call a normal night, as normal as I can get, anyway.” I shake my head. “She still hasn’t spoken to me. We got to the hotel room, and I did what you guys said: be gentle, try to be nice. And I was!”
I rub my face once more.
“It wasn’t what I had expected, the sex, I mean. She was free; she gave her body willingly, and for the first time in my life, it was mutual. It was good. After we got up, she sat on my lap while I fed her dessert. I tried to talk to her. I tried to ask her questions about what she liked. Isabella never said a word, before, during, or after. She never says anything.”
I point at him and say, “You had a bigger conversation with her this morning than I have had since I met her. She refuses to talk to me. She nods or shakes her head when I ask her anything, or she runs away like a fucken four-year-old.”
Carlos looks back at his hands and picks his nails. “You need to try a quieter approach. She is like a skittish deer; you have to rein in that tempter and talk quieter and move more slowly. She won’t open up with force. She’ll only shut down even more.”
I sit straight up and glare at him now. “How much more can she shut down? She doesn’t fucken talk!” I bellow.
He points in my face. “That right there, brother, it will be your downfall with her.”
I sit up and swing my leg over the chair. Screw this, “I need to go to the club. Business awaits.” I stand up and button up my suit jacket. Carlos stands as well.
“Think you can find a few guys to take the Persian rug out ofIsabella’s room? She rolled it up herself and dragged it into the bedroom.”
Carlos looks shocked. “She what? That thing weighs a ton.”
As we walk, I open the door and say over my shoulder, “I know. We had a bit of a misunderstanding this morning. I was checking on her with the camera and there she was, dragging the thing into the room. “
“I suppose you ran in there and helped the poor girl out like a hero, earning her everlasting admiration.”
“Not quite.” My chest hurts again and I rub it.
I leave the conversation there as we move through the house and down the front steps to get into the car. I’ll check on her later to see if she gets out of that art room and sleeps in her bed for once. She hasn’t spent a night in it since she moved into this house.
Again, I rub my face. I need to stop thinking about this… I need to go to the club, have a drink and relax. Somewhere I know, somewhere I feel stable and more like myself instead of this fucked up version of me I’ve been for the last week. Tonight, I had no plans to go home. Maybe what we need is space for a fresh start. If I’m not there to annoy her, we can both put down our guns for a while.
The smell of stale beer and vanilla hit me as I make my way into the bar. It’s hopping tonight. The dance floor is jumping and most of the tables are full. Marcus looks up over people’s heads as we approach.
He heads over to us, yelling over the drum of the crowd, “Welcome back!” I grab his fist and slap him on the shoulder.
I look around, yelling, “It’s busy. I’m happy to see you can hold it together while I’m gone.”
“Yeah, well, your brother runs a tight ship.” He thumbs over hisshoulder at my office.
“He’s upstairs. He has this week’s orders and receipts. I’ll turn in tonight’s tallies at closing. Will you be here or gone by then? Home to the Misses.” He smiles and slaps my shoulder.
I don’t return his smile. I can’t and I rub my chest again. We need space. I can’t think of any other way to remedy this.
“We’ll see,” I say and tap the bar with my knuckles and make my way through the crowd to the stairs leading to my office.
