The Wing East of the Library.

{Isla’s POV}

I woke cold, still wearing the silk dress from the day before. Early light turned the room grey. Somewhere below, a door slammed hard enough that I felt the impact before I heard it. For a second, I couldn’t remember why my jaw hurt or why I was on the floor. Then I moved, and the entire conversation came rushing back in tiny, dreadful pieces. Cassandra crying, flinching the moment I stepped towards her, her hands on her stomach.

I sighed and lay there for a minute, listening to the house wake up around me. I slowly got up because staying on the floor brought back memories; I preferred buried deep.

The hallway was lined with portraits of dead Blackwoods judging my every move. I rolled my eyes and walked barefoot on tiles, cold enough to make me hiss. The house was so massive I couldn’t help but wonder how one man lived here alone. I tried three doors. 

Locked.

Locked.

Linen closet.

I opened a few more doors. They led me into rooms that looked like they hadn’t been used in years.  The last door at the end of the hallway opened into a library, with tall windows and shelves filled with more books than I'd seen anywhere else. Finally, some entertainment.

I walked further into the room, and I saw him, asleep in the chair by the window. I tilted my head. This mansion had a dozen rooms to spare. And he’d chosen to sleep in the library.

He looked different asleep. Less like the man who looked at me with disgust, and more like the man who’d once held me like I was something precious. A book had slid halfway off his knee. The scar through his brows was more visible, the long streak passing through his eyelid, and the exact shadow of his lashes thrown against his cheekbone in that pale light. His dark hair fell forward in an absurd way that made him look younger.

 I hated how long I stood there. I hated that Cassandra and her mother had managed to take this one thing that should have been mine.

What I hated more was when his eyes opened, because he caught me staring. I should have walked away and apologized. Instead, my stupid leg decided it would be the perfect time to stop working. Just great.

Whatever softness sleep had left on his face vanished instantly, replaced by irritation. And this time, I couldn’t even blame him.

“Do you make a habit of watching people while they sleep?” It wasn’t really a question. His voice was deeper, rough with the edge of a man freshly woken.

“I didn’t know anyone was in here,” I said.

“And you didn’t think it was smart enough to leave once you found out.” He straightened in the chair, the book sliding off the rest of the way to the floor. And he didn’t bother picking it up. “Or is wandering my house uninvited simply part of the kind of person you are?”

Heat climbed all the way up the back of my neck. “I wasn’t watching you.”

“You were standing two feet away with your mouth slightly open. Forgive me for assuming otherwise.”

I slightly brushed my fingers over my mouth; I hated that he’d noticed enough to describe it accurately. “I wanted to ask you a question.”

I didn’t actually have a question. I just had to come up with something that would make me seem less pathetic than I already did. I regretted it immediately, because looking pathetic would have been better than what I blurted out next. “So…why didn’t you show up for our wedding night?”

I closed my eyes in shame. There was no elegant way to walk it back; I couldn’t possibly say I was joking when we weren’t exactly on talking terms. I wanted, very badly, to sink through the floorboards and never resurface.

That should have been the moment I walked away. But I couldn’t, not when he was genuinely staring at me like he needed a second to confirm whether he’d heard me correctly. Then his mouth pressed into a flat line, with the expression of a man adding to the list of reasons he was irritated by his wife.

“Your sister was missing,” he said, “And that’s what you’re asking me about.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” I stopped mid-sentence, processing what he had just said. Missing.

Not kidnapped. Not taken. Not the woman you locked in a room. Which was the actual accusation Vanessa wanted him to believe. He’d said missing, so plain and natural. The word you’d use for someone who simply wandered off, not the right word to use when someone had allegedly been kidnapped by her sister.

That word replayed in my head so many times that I hadn’t realized when he stood up.

Maybe he didn’t actually believe them; maybe he knew it was me from the other night. Maybe he was just playing this game. So he could humble Vanessa and Cassandra, then later tell me he knew all along. Maybe he’d chosen that word on purpose as a hint, trying to tell me something.

“What are you smiling about?” Axel said, and I hadn’t even realized my face was doing that.

“Nothing.”

“You’re doing it again.”

“I am not smiling anymore. I don’t know why I…”

“And you are standing too close, thinking out loud.” He interrupted.

I raised my brows. I wasn’t even close to him. Well, not like that night at the other garden. Reluctantly, I took a small step back.

“Does my existence irritate you that much?” I asked.

“And one more thing.” He said, completely ignoring what I asked. Of course.

 “Dress appropriately around me.”

I frowned. Was that what he had chosen to complain about? My nightdress. The one I had specially worn for our wedding night.

I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t think I need to dress appropriately near my husband.”

“Not with your nipples on display.”

My body went still. There was no way he was right. I slowly looked down. Oh. He was actually right. My right boobs must have slipped free; they must have shifted while I was standing there like an idiot. I quickly pulled the fabric back in place.

How had I not noticed? Wonderful. Something else to add to the list of reasons he found me irritating.

I couldn’t help but wonder how long he had been looking, and something about that made me smile again. Great, just when I’d thought I couldn’t be more embarrassing.

Wait. Something about the way he’d said it.

“Wait, you recognize them from the other night at the garden, right?” The words slipped straight out of my mouth. And I only realized I said them when he sighed.

But…what if he actually recognized them? And if he did, why was he looking at me like that?

He opened his mouth to say something I knew would ruin whatever self-esteem I had left, before a voice cut across the room.

“There you are.”

I turned to see who could be in my husband's house that early.

It was Cassandra.

I rolled my eyes. Of course, just the privacy my husband and I apparently needed. She stood in the doorway in a robe far too thin for someone claiming to be traumatized by a ‘kidnapping’

She crossed the room without a single glance in my direction, sliding both arms around Axel from Behind and pressing herself against his back as if she had belonged there. Her chin found his shoulder. Then her eyes found mine.

And she smirked.

 The fucking ugly bitch smirked while hugging my husband, who looked like he enjoyed being there.