Page 9 of Fractured
He hands it back. “You boys ready? Carlos, watch everyone closely. Any twitch or side glance, I want to know who and when.”
He adjusts his suit jacket and walks ahead of us, going down the corridor to the conference room. We follow, the other members catching on. It’s time to get down to business.
Carlos holds open the door for my father and me. My father walks straight to the head of the table. I pull out his chair; he sits and points at the seat next to him and I sit. This should be fun.
Everyone gets checked at the door for weapons. Once everyone has taken their seats, my father opens the meeting.
Carlos is seated in the corner opposite me, watching the room as I watch the members closely.
I shift once more in my chair. It's been about two hours now discussing contracts and mergers. I’m about done. My ass is sore and so far, no one has acted suspiciously or out of the ordinary.
Robert has mostly been silent, passing his vote on mergers. A different man from last night pushing his clout around and this morning playing the respectful member.
The meeting ends. My father stands and shakes hands with everyone as they make their way out. Once we are alone, Carlos closes and locks the door. My father takes his seat once again.
“Anything?”
Carlos takes a seat next to him. “Nothing, not a blink or a look from any of them.”
“He could be working with an outsider? He was pushing guns with the Russians pretty hard.” I state.
“Look into it.” He stands, “I have a call to make. I’ll see you, boys, later at dinner.”
“I’m going to the bar.” Carlos stands. “You coming?” I nod yes.
We grab a seat at the counter and place our drink order. Carlos’ phone goes off and he answers it. He holds his finger up to me and walks away outside the door to a quieter area. I take this opportunity to check up on my bunny.
I scroll through the feeds, looking for her. My mother comes into view; she is sitting on the couch in the library beside Isabella’s mother. Rebekah is seated on the loveseat, holding a book in her hand, flipping pages.
My bunny is seated on a chair, far away from the group of ladies staring at our mothers while they talk. Rebekah holds the book out to our mothers; they nod in agreement. Rebekah tags the page and keeps on flipping through the book.
No one even asked her opinion. This pisses me off. It’s her wedding. Shouldn’t she have a say?
Carlos comes back and I click my phone off quickly, putting it in my inside pocket. We have our drink and head back upstairs to check on Sebastian. See if he cracked that wall yet.
~~~
Every day here passes the same way. Meetings, more meetings, Sebastian is no closer to breaking in and so far every one of Robert’s men remains by his side. It feels like a waste of a week in this city and I want to go home.
Every day I check on Isabella. She sleeps every night in her art room on the floor. As far as I can tell, her participation in the wedding is nil.
She nods when asked a question and smiles at the appropriatetime, but as soon as the women turn away or get distracted with other things, only I can see the blank stare that crosses her face. The remote interest she pays to anything happening in the room.
We fly home tomorrow afternoon, thank god.
The rehearsal dinner is tomorrow night and this will be the last night she sleeps on the floor. I'll make damn sure of it.
Chapter 2 ~ Isabella
Alexander must be gone by now.
His flight should have taken off, which means he’s not here. The tension around my chest eases slightly and I can breathe a little easier.
My nail still has a ridge on it even though picking at it makes it sting. I pick the side once more to smooth out the skin, bringing it to my mouth to ease the burn and the copper taste of blood hits my tongue. Taking my finger out to look at it, I've picked it raw, the skin ripped back torn and bleeding. I get up and head to the bathroom, opening drawers in search of a bandage. I finally found one and wrapped my finger around it.
Going back out to the small seating area, I sit on the couch and bring my hair over my shoulder. Lifting my feet to once again rest on the edge of the coffee table, I stare absentmindedly at the flowers, stroking the ends of my hair.
I need to think.
