5

CHAPTER FIVE

THE WRONG WING

ISABELLA

Three days.

Seventy-two hours of pretending I wasn't checking my phone every five minutes.

Julien called twice more. Real conversations and not the usual forty-second check-ins. He asked about the house, the weather, and what I'd eaten for dinner.

Normal boyfriend things. Things I'd begged for over two years.

And all I could think about was a text from an unknown number.

"I'll be back before you know it. Stay out of trouble."

Stay out of trouble.

What kind of trouble? The kind where I couldn't stop replaying his voice? The kind where I lie awake at night imagining his hands? The kind where my boyfriend's "I miss you" landed hollow because my heart was already somewhere else?

I was already in trouble. Deep trouble.

Camille seemed to notice the change in my behavior.

"You've been weird all week," she said on Tuesday morning, sprawled across my bed while I pretended to read. "Is it Julien? Did he do something again?"

"No. He's been... good, actually."

That seemed to catch her by complete surprise as she pulled my book away from my face abruptly, staring at me with questioning gazes.

"Julien's good? Like, good good?"

"Yeah? Why are you surprised?"

She scoffed. "He's never been good. He has, one way or the other, been an asshole."

I hit the book on her head cautiously. He gave an "ow" and rubbed her forehead with her fingers dramatically.

"Then what is it?"

I stared at her, thinking about the odds of just telling her the truth and how her father's name had become a prayer I whispered to myself at night.

Oh God, Izzy. You're going crazy. You're going absolutely fucking crazy.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said instead. "Just restless."

"Then let's go out tonight. There's this bar in town-"

"I'm not in the mood."

She stared at me for a long moment. Then she shrugged. "Fine. But you're not moping here alone. I'm dragging you to the main house to watch movies; the TV in here is pathetic."

I didn't argue mostly because being in the main house felt closer to him somehow.

It was stupid and pathetic, but it was true.

We watched two movies and ate an entire bag of popcorn, and Camille fell asleep halfway through the third, head lolling against the couch cushions.

I stayed awake, forcing my eyes through the movie until, one way or the other, my eyes dulled to the sound of sleep, and I was lying next to Camille.

____

"Is this how you fall asleep anywhere?"

Sleep completely vanished from my eyes when I heard the voice after the light tap.

Alexander was back, and he was standing right in front of me.

My head snapped to Camille, who was still lying on the couch beside me, still in deep sleep.

"When did you get back?"

"A few minutes ago."

His eyes took in my form, and I suddenly became conscious of what I was wearing. I was wearing nothing but a shirt with no bra and panties on, and half of my ass was in view.

I immediately pulled down my shirt, feeling fluids in-between my legs.

Alexander bent, reducing to my height, and stared into my eyes. His large hands raised and rested on my thighs, lifting my shirt right back into the position it was in.

The touch of his hands sent a bolt of electricity to my spine and attacked every nerve.

I inhaled from his touch.

I thought he'd lift his hands after lifting my shirt, but his hands traveled to my ass, squeezing gently in his palm.

I bit down on my lips to stop the moan from escaping and glanced at Camille, who was still sleeping.

"This is what you want, isn't it?"

I was tongue-tied. I couldn't focus my brain to form a reply.

Just when I thought I'd finally freed my tongue of its bondage, I felt a tap on my arm.

"Izzy!"

I snapped my eyes open. I raised my head to see Camille standing over me, and I realized I'd been dreaming.

I hated her instantly for waking me.

"It's late; go to your room. The couch isn't the ideal place to stay."

I nodded my head, and she walked away. But I was no longer sleepy.

The main house was beautiful at night, all shadows and moonlight, and expensive art glowing faintly in the dark. I wandered through the living room, past the formal dining area, and down a hallway I hadn't explored before.

The doors here were heavier, with darker wood and brass handles that felt cool under my fingers.

At the end of the hallway, a door stood slightly ajar. Just a crack for me to see the faint glow of light inside.

Probably a guest room or a study.

I pushed the door open and stepped inside out of curiosity.

The room was massive, with dark wood and deep colors. It had a bed that could fit four people and windows that faced the sea, with moonlight spilling across the floor.

What is this place?

My heart slammed against my ribs as my mind cautioned me to walk away.

Then the bathroom door opened. Steam rolled out in slow waves, curling into the bedroom air. And through it was a silhouette.

Broad shoulders, narrow hips, and water still sliding down skin that looked like it had been carved by someone with very specific intentions.

Alexander stepped out, running a towel through his hair, completely naked with his dick bare for the whole world to see.

Then he lowered the towel, and our eyes met.

And the world stopped.

For five endless seconds, neither of us moved. He just stood there, naked as the day he was born, water dripping from his hair down his chest, down his stomach, and into his dick.

I couldn't look away; my body had apparently abandoned all sense of self-preservation.

Then slowly and deliberately, he reached for a towel on the rack beside him and wrapped it around his waist. And finally, he spoke.

"You're in the wrong wing."

Words had officially abandoned me along with my dignity.