Page 55 of Fractured
I move closer to the table, my hands gripped in front of me as I pick my tender thumbnail. For some reason, I’m afraid to sit down. This room holds no good memories for me. Every time we sit alone together, it ends up in an argument. Putting my hands on the back of the cold wooden chair, I hesitate to pull it out to take my seat.
Grab your courage, Izzy. Just play the game.
With a heavy sigh, I pull out the chair and sit down. There’s no getting out of this now. Reaching for the coffee pot I pour a cup and add my sugar and cream. I’m just taking a sip when the door flies open and Alexander comes striding into the room. Iswivel in my chair to watch him.
That’s one thing about Alexander: he dominates a room when he enters, each stride so confident and sure. Like the world is his.
He comes over to the back of my chair. I jump as I feel his large hands gently sweeping my hair off my shoulders, laying it down my back. Then he bends over and kisses my temple. The combination of musk and vanilla in my nose, combined with the coffee, is a heady concoction.
“Good morning, Isabella.” He breathes in my ear.
The warmth of his body so close cools my back and makes me shiver once he stands up and moves away to take his seat. What the hell is this? I curse myself for jumping at his touch. I just showed my hand, damn.
He pulls out his chair, taking his seat at the head of the table. He snaps his napkin open, placing it on his lap. Grabbing the coffee decanter, he pours himself a cup, sits it back down, adds his sugar and stirs quickly and sets his spoon down as he looks at me.
“Did you have a pleasant sleep?” He picks up his coffee and takes a sip.
I just nod and do the same.
“Sasha tells me you’ve been a very busy girl this week. You spent a lot of time in your studio working. Is there a particular piece you’re working on?”
I am literally staring at him right now. His tone is soft, and his speech pleasant. Narrowing my eyes, I look him over. I haven’t seen him in a week and he’s sitting here being really nice. That makes me more nervous than when he’s mad.
I blink a few times as he nods his head, an indication that he is waiting for me to answer.
I clear my throat. “Yes, it’s a personal piece.” I sip more coffee and stare at the wall opposite me.
He picks up his cup, mirroring me.
“May I see it?” He speaks over his cup.
I twist my lip to the side. “I just started it. It’s not quite ready yet. I would prefer to have it finished before anyone looks at it.”
He smiles widely, those damn dimples popping out, making my stomach flutter. Why does he have to be so bloody sexy?
“Well, I can’t wait for you to finish. It’d be interesting to see.”
He moves his fork slightly to the left of his plate. Is he fidgeting?
“Have you received my gift?”
I can feel my cheeks turning red. I’m not exactly sure which one he’s talking about, but both of them are still sitting in my room, neglected. Irritation rises and I swallow it down. This is his game, I know he’s playing with me now.
I set my cup down. “Yes, but I will open them later this afternoon. That really wasn’t necessary.”
I occupy myself by rearranging my cutlery and putting my napkin in my lap while waiting for breakfast to arrive, which can’t come soon enough. I just want to get this over with and go back to my room.
I can imagine what tonight’s going to be like. I’ll have to spend hours and hours with him by his side, pretending and dodging his every calculated move.
Rose opens the far door and brings our breakfast trays in. She nervously puts one in front of Alexander, and as she sets the plate down, the lid clanks. She walks up to me, sets down my plate, and takes the lid off. I grab her hand to thank her, and to tell her that the cookies were great and so was the tea.
She smiles and leaves the room quickly and I wish I could gowith her. Alexander looks at me like he doesn’t understand what I’m talking about with the tea and cookies. I smirk to myself, I guess maybe Danny doesn't tell him everything.
Black Knight to F8: It’s a simple move, but it still feels better than taking the hits and doing nothing.
I look at my plate and nausea rolls in my stomach. Guilt washes over me once again. Poor Rose, she has gone out of her way to cook for me and make me feel special. I feel horrible that it’s such a waste of food. I take a bite of toast, set it back on my plate, and take another sip of coffee while staring at the wall.
Alexander is watching me like a hawk. I feel like I'm a science experiment with every move I make. He never looks at his food as he cuts it up and shovels it into his mouth. Rather, he looks at me as he eats.
