Fairytale Come Alive (Ghosts and Reincarnation #4)(13)
Then she turned to Prentice.
“You have a beautiful home,” she said softly.
Prentice ignored the compliment.
“There are sheets in the wardrobe in the bedroom. Towels in the cupboard in the bathroom. This room,” he indicated the small but welcoming and cozy (Fiona had made it the latter two) sitting room, “has its own phone line, broadband and television so you can have privacy.”
“Thank you.”
Prentice decided it was best if he made his wishes very clear and he didn’t delay.
“I expect you to be in here as often as possible when you’re in my house.”
He could swear he saw her body lock.
“Sorry?” she asked, again with that odd, soft voice.
“I think you heard me,” he replied.
“Prentice –” she started but stopped when he shook his head.
“I’m sure you’re aware that my children lost their mother a year ago. Sally’s obviously looking for anyone to fill that feminine gap and it isn’t going to be you.”
Her face didn’t lose any of its composure as her eyes stayed unwavering on his.
“Prentice –” she started again but he kept talking.
“This is a holiday for you but it’s their life.”
“I wouldn’t do –”
Prentice cut her off and his tone was biting. “Wouldn’t you?”
She looked to the floor immediately and stated, “I deserved that.”
Christ, she was a piece of work.
His temper, already at the surface, boiled over.
“You’ve said that already but you didn’t mean it when you said it to Debs and you don’t mean it now.”
Her eyes shot back to his and she opened her mouth but he didn’t let her speak.
“I don’t know what game you’re playing this time but I reckon you know I’m no’ playing it. What you need to know is, you aren’t playing it with my children.”
“I’m not playing a game,” she returned coolly.
“That’s good then,” he replied but it was impossible to miss the way he said it meant he didn’t believe one word out of her mouth.
And Isabella didn’t miss it.
She leaned forward slightly. “I lost my mother when I was young too. I would never play games with any children, especially not yours.”
“I’ve no idea what a woman like you does for fun,” Prentice shot back. “I just want you to understand whatever fun you intend to have, it will no’ involve my family.”
She crossed her arms and hugged her elbows, whispering, “I don’t deserve this.”
Prentice was silent.
She held his gaze.
Then, as if unable to stop herself, she asked, “What kind of woman do you think I am?”
She shouldn’t have asked it. She knew it and so did he.
He should have let it go.
He didn’t let it go.
Instead, he answered, “The kind of woman who’d play with a man’s heart without a second thought then leave her best friend in a hospital bed for months without lowering herself for that first goddamned visit.”
Prentice watched with detached fascination as her composure slipped for a split second, exposing pain, before she regained it.
Her face softened slightly. “Perhaps I should explain.”
“I don’t want an explanation,” he returned and he didn’t, he was twenty years and a dead wife away from explanations. “I want to know we understand each other.”
Isabella was silent for a moment.
Then she whispered, “Sally likes me.”
“Sally likes everyone.”
Isabella pressed her lips together for a brief moment and he could swear it was an effort to hide her genuine reaction. This was an effort that worked; she gave not that first thing away.
Then she nodded.
“Of course, Prentice,” she gave in quietly. “I’ll stay in these rooms.”
“Except when you cook Sally dinner tomorrow night. That’s one promise you’re going to keep.”
He didn’t wait for her to agree.
He left.
And he put her out of his mind while he called for takeaway.
To Sally’s dismay and Prentice’s relief, Isabella didn’t join them for dinner.
* * * * *
Fiona
Fiona knew she should not hang out in the guest suite but she did mainly because she’d been there when Prentice had told Isabella off and since she couldn’t verbally crow, she wanted to ethereally crow.
She shouldn’t have.
If she hadn’t, she would have missed what Isabella Austin Evangelista did.
See, Prentice brought up her bags and she thanked him graciously while he completely ignored her (this had made Fiona smile).
Then Isabella had taken off her suit jacket and Fiona had been supremely happy she hadn’t done it in front of Prentice for the shirt underneath might have had a high neck but it also had no sleeves and it was sexy as all hell.
Then she made the bed and carefully unpacked as if all her precious belongings should be placed in a high security vault, not the lowly (but beautiful) guest suite that Prentice had designed for their home.
She’d placed four leather bound volumes next to the bed, arranging them amongst her plethora of expensive night creams and eye creams and even (Fiona narrowed her eyes to get a look at the tiny, squirty bottle) aromatherapy (for God’s sake, aromatherapy?).