A/N: Hello! *waves* I hope you had a great Easter. Who is ready for round two?
Chapters will be between 1000-2000 words. If you don't like that, then don't read. It's what suits me and my health.
Thanks to my Dream Team, Cristina, Sherry, Paige & Tiffany, for working with me on another story. I would be lost without you ladies xx
Okay, so I had been a dick. A pretty big dick. Rather than talk to Isabella and work through our issues, I had been avoiding her. I had thrown myself into taking over New York and had left her at home in Detroit. I had basically done anything I could to avoid talking to her. Like I said, it was a dick move. What can I say? Seeing her run toward Garrett in the middle of a gunfight had scared the crap out of me. I'd never cared for anyone so deeply that the thought of losing them destroyed me. I wasn't sure what I would have done or how I would have coped if I had lost her, and knowing that she cared more about revenge than her own life? No, I wasn't having that shit. My wife shouldn't be getting her hands dirty and I would make sure she never did again. I would make sure she never touched a gun again. She would stay at home, safe, away from all the action. She could learn to cook, sew, or whatever the hell it was that wives did all day. Soon enough, hopefully, she would be occupied with raising our children. Not that I was naive to think that she was anywhere ready for that kind of responsibility, but one day…
I had come home early that morning to surprise her. It was a Thursday, so I brought a bouquet of flowers hoping it would soften her up a little. I wanted to talk to her and work things out, so we would have the rest of the day to spend together, but things didn't quite go as planned. When I opened the front door, I was greeted by the stench of stale food, then I saw the mess on the floor. There was trash all over it. Empty takeout containers, empty bottles of juice, dirty clothes, and… I'm not sure I even want to know what the hell that is. I screwed my face up as I went further into the house, looking around at the mess. The entire place was trashed. It was like someone had detonated a junk bomb on the entire house. What was going on? Was Isabella sick? Why hadn't she cleaned up after herself and when did she become such a slob?
I would have sent Marcus to check on her when I was away, but he was currently doing time in a federal Prison in Duluth. The idiot had gotten into a bar fight and the cops busted him for possession of an illegal weapon. As far as I was concerned the fucking idiot deserved to do the time for being so fucking reckless. He should have known better, but clearly he didn't. I hadn't told Isabella where he was yet. She had asked for him at one point and I just stated he was busy, but I guess I was going to have to tell her sooner or later. I just wasn't sure how she would react since everyone around her seemed to be disappearing, myself included.
I had asked my mother to check in on her a few times. She told me she and Isabella had gone out to lunch a few times, but for the most part it seemed like Isabella wanted to be left alone. She declined most of my mom's invitations and had even stopped her coming inside the house on a few occasions. Though if the house had looked anything like this it was no wonder Isabella had refused her entry.
I sat the bouquet on countertop in the kitchen. There wasn't any space so I just set it on top of the mess and headed upstairs, thinking Isabella must be up there because there was no sign of her down here. Unless she was trapped under all the mess and couldn't call for help, which was possible. I found Bruno asleep on her bed, but there was still no sign of Isabella. I was annoyed that she would disregard my order and allow the damn dog to sleep on the bed, but honestly, after seeing the house, I think that was the least of my worries.
I eventually found Isabella asleep in my bed. If I was being honest, it was one of the last places I expected to find her. She was cuddling into my pillow. Her eyes were red and puffy, like she had been crying. I felt like an even bigger dick for that. She shouldn't be crying over me and especially not like this. I sat down on the bed beside her and gently shook her, trying to wake her. She opened her eyes after a few minutes, looking dazed and disorientated. "Hey," I said, cautiously. "Are you okay? Are you sick?"
Isabella shook her head. "No, why?"
"I just presumed with all the mess in the house that you weren't feeling well."
Isabella glared at me like I had said the wrong thing. "Your housekeeper hasn't been here."
"I don't have a housekeeper," I said, confused.
"Then, that's your problem, not mine."
I bit my tongue to stop myself from shouting at her. It was clear she was upset with me and I knew it wasn't unjustified. Before Isabella had come to live with me, my mother had cleaned up for me, not that there has ever been that much of a mess. I was a pretty tidy person. I guess when Isabella had moved in I had just sorta expected her to assume that role and my mother hadn't wanted to step on any toes. She had tidied up after herself in the beginning, but I gather she didn't feel like doing that any longer or she was trying to make a point. "The house looks like it has been invaded by a gang of teenagers."
"Did you wake me just to gripe at me or was there something you actually wanted?" she asked, giving me sass.
"I came home to see you. I've missed you," I said, realizing that this wasn't going to be as easy as I thought. She was hurt and angry at me.
"Oh, now you decide to miss me. Well, I'm afraid it's not convenient for me at the moment," she stated, lying back and closing her eyes. Now that I looked at her again, I could see her hair hadn't been washed in days and the t-shirt she was wearing was grubby.
"You haven't been taking care of yourself," I stated, annoyed by the fact. Couldn't I even count on her to do that when I wasn't here? Isabella ignored me, rolling onto her side, away from me. "Why haven't you been taking care of yourself?" She never answered so I pulled the covers from her. She sat up, glaring at me. She grabbed the covers, trying to pull them back over her, but I refused to let them go.
When she realized that I wasn't going to allow her to go back to sleep, she screamed at me and got out of bed, marching out of the room. I followed her, wondering where she was going. I wouldn't have been surprised if she had gotten into her bed, but she didn't. She headed downstairs. Bruno followed her. She walked over the mess on the floor as if it wasn't there. She opened the fridge and stared into it for a few minutes before grabbing a can of Reddi-Wip and holding it to her mouth.
I grabbed it from her hand before she got more than two shots. "That isn't a proper breakfast," I stated. "Why don't you take a shower and I'll order us something to eat. Then, I'll see about getting someone to clean up this mess. Maybe we can talk during breakfast."
"I don't want to talk," Isabella argued, attempting to grab the can from me. I lifted it out of her reach, when she realized she couldn't reach it she growled in frustration. "Go back to New York and leave me alone."
She was so frustrating. I wanted to grab her and shake her until she started to see sense. "I'm not leaving you, not if you're going to live like this."
"I don't need you to take care of me," she snapped. "I can take care of myself."
"Really?" I said, motioning to the mess around us. "Clearly you can't. Open your fucking eyes, principessa. How can you live like this?"
"It doesn't bother me," she shrugged.
"Well, it fucking bothers me!" I roared. "I will not allow you to live like this. Go upstairs and get in the shower now, then pack your things. We're moving to New York."
Isabella glared at me. "I don't want to move to New York."
"It's like this, principessa, you either pack or I pack for you."
Isabella scowled at me and then stormed off. I hadn't planned on us moving to New York so soon. I wasn't sure how being in the city would affect her, but it looked like I couldn't leave her here, not when she was incapable of looking after herself. I knew it was probably her way of getting back at me, but either way I would not allow her to live like this.
I called my mother, asking her to take care of the house, and then I called my pilot and told him to set a flight plan for New York. I had bought us a new house in Dyker Heights in Brooklyn. I didn't think she would want to stay at her parent's house; in fact, I planned on getting rid of it. I just hoped she liked our new home.