by Pamela Ann
Looking away from the disheartening surroundings, I pulled out my house keys from my purse before stepping inside the home. I wasn’t sure what I had expected to see when I came home, but I certainly wasn’t expecting complete, eerie silence. Mother was sick, wasn’t she? And knowing how my father weaved his evil spell, he’d never want to spend a dime on my mother by taking her to the hospital to have her checked over by a doctor.
I’d once asked him why he was so cruel, and he had merely shrugged and given me a look I won’t ever forget. “There’s no need to waste money when your mother isn’t dying. She’ll sleep it off. She’ll be good as new tomorrow.”
His selfishness knew no bounds.
It was right after he said those words when I fully understood that he was a monster. Before then, there was a part of me which hoped that he’d change. When I was young, gullible, and the optimism ran rampant, I thought that my father would eventually be enlightened, and he’d change to become a better man—a better husband to my mother, and a supportive father to Yannis and I. However, after he’d uttered those lines, there was surely no hope for him. What kind of man would say something like that about his sick wife?
On top of that, it was his fault my mother was sick, because she’d found out that he had been having an affair, and then my mother had refused to eat anything for days on end. She had been heartbroken, while my father mocked it as if it was a nuisance.
The memories flooded in the moment the stale, stagnant air of the house hit my nostrils. The fading décor and the surroundings that had seen better days made me feel like I had gone into a time capsule and was young again, feeling helpless each time mother had fallen ill.
Automatically, I headed straight to my mother’s bedroom. And just as I had predicted, she was there, seeming like she was sleeping with her faded, knitted, blue blanket held close to her stomach. The picture of her in this position was eerily familiar. The last time this had happened, my father had aimed at her stomach, punishing her for a useless uterus, as he’d so vehemently accused her. He was a heel, the worst kind of man, and we were just unfortunate to be his family.
“Mum?” I whispered shakily as I slowly crept deeper into the dark bedroom. My small steps made the floorboards creek as I moved closer to her. “Mum?” I asked again. This time, I saw her blink her eyes wide open before searching for the source the voice had come from. Then, when our eyes met, the usual, tender mixed with immense sadness that reminded me of a miserable, lost puppy, greeted me once more. “What happened this time, Mum?”
My heart broke for her—for us. This was a hopeless case and wouldn’t ever stop until she walked away. Her undying love for my father made her stay, even though there was nothing left in their marriage besides their marriage certificate. Other than that, they were practically mere strangers. Him living in his own fantasy while my mother pined for him to come home. A decade and a half of never-ending repetition.
When would it end? When she was dead? Was that what she was waiting for? This very thought made me feel volatile, frustrated that my own flesh and blood—my own mother—couldn’t stand her ground and grow a backbone for once.
She gave me a weak smile before I reached for her hand and gave it a light squeeze, letting her know that I was there for her.
“Mum…please…” I sobbed, needing her to see and understand that there was still a way out—that it was never too late to start over again and live the life she had once longed for. “You have to leave him and go back to England. He’s never going to stop hurting you—he’s that cruel.”
Her eyes moistened, agony etched on her face, before she brought my hand that held hers towards her chest, where her heart rested. She placed my palm over it, making me aware that she was still alive, before she looked away just as her tears started to slide down the side of her face.
The gesture was her way of telling me that she was okay, that she was in love with my father and would never leave him. It was discouraging. The pattern hadn’t really changed over the years. She needed to see that—know that there was no hope for him.
“He’s a monster, Mum. Don’t you see that?” I begged as my tears streamed from my face. “He doesn’t love you. He doesn’t love any of us. He’s selfish and only cares for himself. You know this! Why can’t you just accept it and stop forgiving him for all the atrocious things he’s done to you?”
Again, she merely gave me a look that told me she would never do that.
My father had done this to her, made her lose her voice—her ability to freely speak her mind without fearing anything bad would happen to her. When things had started to spiral out of control, her voice had gone the opposite way, hiding from the world, as if preventing herself from speaking the truth would hide what my father was. Or maybe it was because she was living in her own heart brokenness to the point that she couldn’t comprehend speaking in fear that she’d be ashamed. This notion had been brought up by my very own grandmother, accompanied with a pitying look that stated she saw my mother as a weak, pathetic fool.
When I realized that my attempts in trying to convince her to leave the country were futile, I tried to see her injury—the bruises she was hiding from me inside the blanket—but she was adamant in pushing me away. Even my attempts in feeding her soup didn’t go anywhere; therefore, I decided to leave her be for a while and come back to check on her later.
Maybe, when I tried again after she’d rested, she might change her mind and hear me out this time.
My mother skipped her lunch, but when dinner came, she took a few spoonfuls of soup. She declined any offers I had for companionship and wanted to be left alone, so I granted her wishes.
By ten that night, my mind swirled with all kinds of things. I had been arguing with myself over whether I should call Hugo and tell him I had safely landed and was okay. I wasn’t sure if he’d care because he hadn’t tried to contact me, either. Assuming and reassuring myself that he was busy and need not to be interrupted, I simply convinced myself that he was probably relieved not to have me around. Sure, we had been having fun for the past weeks, but I was certain he missed his old lifestyle. I mean, come on, the man hadn’t had the real hot sex he’d gluttonously had over the years. So without me in sight, I was almost positive that he’d had Sherry or Chantel flown in for a hot, sweaty reunion.
Thinking about them with Hugo… Well, it made me feel a little angry. Only a little. I knew he wasn’t mine, nor were we in love or anything, but still, we had been intimate in the every possible aspect without going all the way in a physical sense. He was great—funny when need be and sinfully sexy as hell—but that’s all there was. There was no depth to our circumstance. Well, that was my opinion, anyway.
Sighing, I gripped my phone before deciding to insert it in my back jean pocket as I heard the faint sound of the doorbell chime.
Was it father? He usually left his keys, especially when he was drunk. Bloody hell, the last thing I needed to end the night was a fight with my father. Couldn’t he have at least stayed back for another week or something? Or maybe never come back home again? He was a useless husband, so what point did he have in coming back here, anyway?
My defenses were up. My guards were alert. I was ready to fight him even if he’d end up choking me to death. He needed to see that this wasn’t right—what he was doing to my mother was an act done by a monster.
Fuming before yanking the door wide open, I opened my mouth to say something that would set my father off in a rage when I stopped myself short, shocked.
“Damen?” I stared at him, aghast and at the same time my heart ceasing to work for a moment at seeing him again after such a long absence. “What are you doing here?”
“When I heard you were back for a visit, I knew I had to see you.” He made a sexy, shy smile, eyes glued to me, awe and love visible in them. “You look beautiful, Isobel.”
Damn… no. Don’t go there, I silently begged with my eyes before looking away because my heart started to hurt.
&n
bsp; “Damen, I can’t do this right now. My mum’s sick. My life is complicated and chaotic as it is. I hope you understand that.” My words seemed to strike him before I saw a flash of anger in his face, then it disappeared in the blink of an eye.
“Why?” He sounded truly hurt by my immediate rejection to his intentions of seeing me. “Did you expect that I would just step back because you left me a voicemail? We’re together—stop running away from me.”
Above all things, my heart went out to him, but I knew I shouldn’t melt my resolve because I had signed a contract with Hugo. It was written in bold letters that I was to not be alone with ex-lovers, or any man for that matter. This was definitely crossing the line, and the last thing I needed was for Hugo to find out. It would snap his already thinning patience with me.
“I’m not running away. I mean… It’s just complicated.”
“What’s the difference with not being with me and being with me while you’re interning at The Riviera? I’m confused ‘cause you were supposed to come back after you visited your father, and all of a sudden, things changed,” he pressed the subject, not willing to let it go as he started to come closer, much closer than I felt comfortable with. “Am I missing something here?” he asked in an almost whispered voice, breaking my guard a little.
His brows furrowed as he searched my eyes for answers. “If you feel pressured about our plans for the future, then say so. I won’t speak about it again if it makes you panic.” Then his eyes dropped to my lips, leaving me breathless.
Damen, please… stay back. My heart and my body responded like they usually did.
He was familiar and the man I was in love with. Could I really find fault in my reaction to him?
“I never felt pressured. Not with you—never with you.” My eyes glassed with moisture as I gave him a pleading look. “Damen… please.”
“Iso, don’t break me like this.”
“It’s only temporary. I promise.” Fuck, I could feel my conscience kicking in, working its way into my heart, my once steel resolve becoming shaky.
Damn, he wouldn’t heed anything. He simply pushed on, persisting to know answers that had boggled him ever since I had broken it off with him.
“Did you fall in love with some other guy? Is that why you wanted to take a break?” He looked broken before, but after asking me this, he seemed to be in a great amount of pain.
I shook my head, not willing to deny my feelings for him. I wasn’t all that cruel, after all. “No! Of course not.” This was something I could tell him, at least, and hopefully, it’d help ease his pain.
He took a moment and bit his bottom lip before looking down at the floor, looking lost in thought. After a good minute or so, when he did look up, I couldn’t read his face. His eyes sought mine as he stepped closer, drowning me in the familiar depths that I’d stared at for years and years of us being together. The quick jab in my heart made me bleed when I saw how much this break-up had taken a toll on him. He still looked gorgeous, yet there was something lacking in his eyes. The smile in his eyes was gone, replaced by something sad and gloomy.
“Do you still love me?”
Did he think that I didn’t? I thought ch to myself as I stared into him, seeking what I had just asked myself. In that instant, I realized that he had considered everything, even this. That my love had simply ebbed away without looking back. This…
This broke my resolve.
“I do,” I said as I shut down my brain and let my heart reign free. “I still love you.”
He reached out to cup my cheek, bringing my face towards him. “Then what’s the problem, Iso?” he asked, and before I had the chance to respond, he kissed my answer away, forgetting everything I had just told myself not to do, letting my emotions go haywire.
I was in Greece for an entire week with no sightings of my father, nor had we heard from him. I couldn’t leave without having to beg my grandmother to lend one of her helpers to live with my mother until she was well and could function on her own again. My grandmother was, of course, reluctant at first, but my relentless pursuit of the subject left her exhausted. So in the very end, it was my grandfather who told me that it was okay to borrow one of the ladies to help nurse my mum.
The short visit caused a lot of resentment and anger, yet at the same time, I couldn’t take back what had happened with Damen after we kissed. The man wouldn’t let me go after that. Moreover, given my high emotional state, I didn’t fight him off when he went further, taking his intentions to another level.
Chapter 25
Hugo
“Isobel,” I said the second I got inside her bedroom without knocking, “it’s good to see you back.” Beaming, I let my eyes rove over her beautiful face and body, needing assurance that she was safe and unharmed. She was putting her computer aside and hadn’t said a word. My curiosity was piqued at her odd behavior. “Aren’t you going to come here and greet me properly?” I slowly strode over to her, resolving her lack of response for exhaustion.
Once I got to her on the other side of the bed where she was sitting and waiting, I immediately kissed her forehead before cradling her cheek to kiss her on the lips. Her intoxicating scent filled my nostrils, and I instantly felt a wave of calmness wash over me.
“You’ve been gone for far too long. How is your mother? I hope she is well and safe.” I searched her eyes and was taken aback to see hers stare back at me full of trouble and hesitation. “Is something the matter?”
She shook her head before licking her lips and looking away. “My mum will eventually get better. Thanks for asking.”
I frowned as I gazed upon her, knowing very well that my instincts couldn’t be far off when they were telling me that something was amiss. “Is there something you want to tell me, Isobel?” My voice may be soft, but I was on edge, hoping she wasn’t hiding anything from me.
She made a wan smile. “I’m just tired…” she trailed off. “I didn’t get much sleep once I got there, so I’m beyond exhausted.”
I nodded, worried. “Of course. Have you had dinner?” It was half past eight, and from what I had been told, she hadn’t had a nibble of food since she’d flown in two hours ago. I would’ve gone home to welcome her back immediately, but I had barely flown in myself from Switzerland after some business. I had immediately come straight to see her, bound with excitement and expectation. I definitely hadn’t been picturing her as cold and distant. Weary and exhausted? Yes, of course. But standoffish? No. Especially not after how things had been between us before she’d left.
She declined my invitation for dinner, excusing herself to the bathroom to shower while I stared after her, pondering what had gone wrong.
Listening to her movements in the bathroom, I looked about her room for about five minutes before deciding to leave her be. Perhaps we could talk again in an hour or so. Maybe she’d feel better then.
Finally getting up to leave her room, I strode towards the other wing on the opposite side of the villa to my bedroom to change. All the while, I thought of our cold and detached exchange in her bedroom.
Entering my domain, I headed straight to my walk-in closet before taking my clothes off to shower before dinner. I wasn’t particularly hungry; however, I felt I needed to give her space even though all I wanted was to spend the entire night with her in her bed… naked… while we caught up on events. I wanted to hear what had happened on her trip in Athens, amongst other things.
After a quick shower, I went downstairs to work whilst having dinner, biding time until I felt she’d had enough time of her own before facing me again.
The intended one hour wait became two as I was consumed by the current project I was working on. I took a moment to breathe and gather my thoughts, feeling slightly euphoric at the thought of tasting her again tonight. After a week without her here and with no distractions to speak of, my mind—whenever not occupied with work—had continuously wandered towards her, wondering how she was doing in Athens.
There were times
when I wanted to simply call her and ask her myself, but I also wanted her to have some privacy since her mother was ill and she probably couldn’t be bothered. I thought that, if she truly wanted to talk, she would’ve easily called me. However, after her quick message stating that she had arrived and was fine, nothing had come from her. From then on, I had counted the days until she was back here with me, in my house where I could see her whenever I wanted.
Sherry and Chantel were back from their vacations and the two had moved in to the hotel because I had made a vow to myself that I would concentrate solely on Isobel, and I meant to keep that promise. The ladies, of course, were baffled with the immediate change of living arrangements, yet I wasn’t one to fully disclose my life, even to my past lovers. I meant to speak to them once I’d had a discussion with Isobel before letting them both go with a hefty parting present.
Leaving my library, I pictured her in bed, dressed in one of those silky, short, slip-on nightdresses with nothing underneath. She knew I went berserk whenever she did that. And since she and I hadn’t seen each other in a while, I was hoping she’d be more than eager to participate tonight in what I had hungered for.
Striding towards her room, each step that got me closer to my destination made me feel nervous all of a sudden. I wasn’t sure why, but her unwelcoming response had been so unexpected that it somehow pained me a little.
Not bothering to knock on her door, I let myself inside and found her on the bed with her laptop, just as I had found her earlier. When she saw me enter, she immediately shut it off and placed it on the side table before giving me a pained smile.
“Hey, I was wondering where you’ve been.”
Maybe it was the fake smile that I had just witnessed or her odd attitude, but I surely didn’t buy the fact that she was “wondering” where I’d been. Had she meant it, she could’ve easily found me downstairs, but she hadn’t.