by Pamela Ann
“I have to go. My plane’s waiting,” I cautiously informed her, not wanting to waste any more time with her trying to dispel me from my decision.
Isobel immediately became distraught. “I’m not ready to say goodbye,” she threw at me, sounding like she meant every single word. “I feel like there’s more to say. Don’t leave like this. Please.”
She took a lover.
She took a bloody lover while she vowed and promised not to do so! No. No! I will not allow her back. Especially not after she carried on about her time with me as if she hadn’t betrayed me at all. I could not forgive her for that.
“All you’ve ever wanted is your freedom to go back home to your friends.”
She had acted thoughtlessly, with little conscience to the promise she had made to me. She had valued me so little that she had taken a chance. There was nothing left to be said.
“You’re free from any contractual obligations,” I curtly pointed out, highlighting her glorious freedom. “What more do you want, Isobel?”
I had granted her more than she had ever dreamed of. She should walk away with her head high and leave me be. Why was she so adamant about keeping in touch and not ready to let go? She had taken a chance, and that chance had a price—me leaving. How hard was that to comprehend?
“I want more time,” she openly begged with her voice and her eyes. “I know I’ve been distant and temperamental. It’s because of Damen—”
“That’s enough, Isobel,” I almost screamed at her. How dare she say his name to my face? Merde! The very mention of his name set me on the verge of madness. My cool composure was threatening to crack. I must leave before I made a fool of myself.
“But I’m not ready to go—”
“Isobel…”
“Please, I’m begging you.”
I stepped as close to her as my restraint allowed before staring into those beautiful depths of hers for the last time. “No. This is it, Isobel.” My gaze momentarily softened the second it connected with hers, noting her face as if studying a beautiful painting. I would never forget this face, those eyes that reached into my soul. I shan’t forget. “This is goodbye.”
Goodbye, ma belle.
More tears pooled in her eyes, persistent. “If I wasn’t in love with him, I could’ve given you what you wanted the most, but I can’t betray my heart. I hope you can see that. I’ve already caused enough damage that I’m not sure I can repair,” she sobbed with anguish. “Please forgive me. I wish I had given you a chance.”
She stared at me with tears slowly streaming down her face as I languished from her heartfelt words. Her blinding beauty and how closely I had been to happiness, how she was the only woman I had felt like coming home to. That feeling of pure bliss and that false feeling of security—Isobel had granted me that. For a time, she truly had. And I would never forget it. Maybe it would be the closest thing I had to the real thing. Who knew anymore?
“Am I ever going to see you again?” her question broke into my thoughts while I gazed at her pensively.
She desperately needed hope that, whatever it was we had nurtured between us, it wasn’t over. However, I wasn’t one for false pretenses, and there was no point in beginning today. As much as I adored her, I would not bestow that false sense of promise just to comfort her.
“We end here, Isobel. We won’t be seeing each other again. I’ll make sure of it.”
Unexpectedly, I surprised myself when my thumb reached out to brush against her luscious bottom lip. How often had I nipped and sucked on this, desperately wanting her, all of her? Countless times, I had ached for her.
“Hugo,” she cried out, pressing herself against me, as if an invitation to take what I wanted from her.
My resolve was slipping, but the thought of her letting Damen, her lover, freely take what she had denied me made the burn sear deeper into my soul. What she had done couldn’t be undone, and I’d had no part in it. It was all her. Now she must reap the rewards of her actions.
Gently glancing at her, I gave her a painstaking kiss on her forehead, sealing everything she and I had shared together. She deserved to be happy. Even if it wasn’t with me, she deserved it and then some.
“Never let your father—or anyone, for that matter—dictate your fate again.” It took every ounce in me to give her an encouraging smile, but I did so without breaking. “Go on, ma belle, follow your heart.”
Without another glance, I spun around to leave, heading towards the door and the future that awaited me.
For such a little time, she had marked herself in my life in a way that granted me a gift as well as leaving me cursed. It was a gift that made me open myself to someone, fogging my mind with thoughts of happiness that I had never thought of achieving, let alone experience with anyone.
Of course, as they said, all good things must come to an end. And so, I must carry on with my life as if this one particular woman hadn’t come into in in a whirlwind, breaking my barriers, unbeknownst to me.
Chapter 2
Two months later
London
Isobel
“Must you obsess about this man for another day, Iso?” Claire asked while giving me a glaringly obvious look that said she clearly thought I had lost my mind, yet again.
I wasn’t obsessing about him, or was I? Maybe…
Okay, possibly I was going a little overboard with my online stalking syndrome; however, it was the only way I could keep track with news and events regarding the French man. To me, this had been a daily occurrence since I had left Monaco, and it had been a hard habit to break. I was hungry for any information. Anything and everything related to the formidable Hugo Xavier, I wanted to know, or sleep would evade me.
It had been eight long weeks since I last saw Hugo walk out of his office in Monaco. He left a massive, gaping hole, a hole that since stretched into something I couldn’t fill. Nothing. There was nothing to fill this slowly aching void he had left in me.
Even though I was back in school, living in the apartment Hugo had graciously gifted me, nothing comforted me: not my goals, not Damen, though he tried as he might, and not even the company of my friends whom I highly adored.
I had asked Claire if she wanted to stay with me since the flat was a two-bedroom, and she happily obliged, wanting to move into a lavishly decorated place compared to her old, shared flat with four other schoolmates. It was big enough for two people and then some. It was spacious with a massive Michelin decorated kitchen and a nice balcony that overlooked the great city of London below. Besides, I needed someone to distract me whilst at home.
Though Claire had provided some of it by dragging me to watch films and all the girly goodness a girlfriend could offer, Hugo’s presence in my mind was more prevalent as the days went on. It was mystifying, unnerving, but overall, rather frightening that I wasn’t over him after all this time. In fact, if I was honest with myself, it had become worse.
I dreamed, breathed, and agonized over the sexy, gorgeous French man who had truly swept me off my feet.
Though his lifestyle was peculiar, he was a true gentleman who had acted as such towards me. Not once had he made me feel inferior, not even after he knew the truth about my ghastly father, not even when he had found out about my betrayal with Damen. He was in a league of his own, and I couldn’t help being in awe of him.
It took me all this time to realize how much he meant to me, but since I had no means to contact him, I must remain vigilant until such opportunity. Maybe I might brazen up and break the request he had thrown at me—never to see each other again.
“Anything new?” Claire quipped as she pulled the cork out of the wine bottle and took out a pair of wine glasses before setting them on the table across from where I was sitting, hobbled with my laptop in a true stalker-ish fashion, hunchbacked as my eyes lasered in on updates in Google news while I tried to ignore her less than subtle jibe. “It’s been like what … sixty minutes since you Google-stalked him? But, hey, in an hour’s time,
a lot could’ve happened, right? Like he changed his shirt from white to blue, or he went commando, and the imprint of his cockatoo is truly ‘breaking news.’ Or what of it…”
Throwing her a dirty look as she handed me a half-filled wine glass, my eyes resumed their perusal of the screen before I decided to click on the second selection with a headline: “French Casino Mogul Parties with a Dozen Sexy Entourages in Paris.”
“I know I might look like a hot mess—”
“Oh, darling, a hot mess is too subtle a word.” She paused, as if giving it some thought, before her face lit up when she found the perfect sarcasm to rub in my plight. “How about a disaster waiting to implode? I don’t know what the real story is behind this uncanny obsession. I mean, you went on a trip, met a god-like, French stud muffin who probably whispered all these seductive phrases in your ear. It’s sexy and hot, but, love, you’re back in England, not in Monaco, and Damen’s getting suspicious.”
“Whatever do you mean by ‘Damen’s getting suspicious’?” I looked up at her, waiting for her explanation.
She shrugged before giving me a pleading look. “He said you’ve been too occupied and aren’t the same. He wondered if there’s something wrong with you…”
I waited a beat before responding to her. “And did you confide anything to him at all?” If she did, what should I tell Damen? I knew Claire could be trusted, but at the same time, I knew she wasn’t so keen on me being consumed with another man’s life when everyone knew Damen was crazy in love with me.
I did love him still—of course I did—but it was hard to love him when my thoughts strayed to Hugo. Most especially at night, it was hard to truly move on when I couldn’t let him kiss me without the feeling of betrayal resurfacing its ugly head. I knew it was too late to be feeling like I was betraying Hugo, but I did. That was why I had been trying to avoid alone time with Damen. I felt safer with our friends around. There was less pressure to be intimate with him and less opportunity for him to drill me about what was bothering me.
“As much as I don’t want to keep Damen in the dark, I feel that you must sort this problem on your own. I truly believe that you’re confused, and no one can help you figure this out but yourself, Isobel. We’re friends, and that’s what I’m here for. Though I don’t condone what you’re doing, I’m not here to judge, but simply to be here for you.”
It was my turn to sigh before closing the lid of my laptop. Hugo’s escapades can wait, I thought darkly as the images of him wrapped around some random woman’s body made me almost convulse with dread and jealousy. Inside, I felt like something was ripping me apart, but I knew I should focus on what Claire was saying. She was the person I was closest to after Damen, and though I didn’t tell her what had happened in Monaco—other than the lies I had told Damen—I knew she meant well. She also truly cared for my wellbeing. Good friends were hard to come by, and I cherished her as such.
“I just need some time to come to terms with things. I love Damen, and I never stopped loving him, but for me to keep on going, I know I have to flush this out of my system. It must be hard to understand. I can’t even understand myself, yet I know I must go through this, or I won’t move on from it—from him.”
“Then take your time. Do what you think is best. Like I said, I’m not judging.” She raised her glass, cheering me on before giving me a warm smile. “Now finish what you’re doing before it’s time we leave to meet the rest in thirty minutes.”
Grinning, I raised the glass to my lips before blowing her a kiss. “Thanks, love.”
Maybe online stalking was some sort of an odd form of therapy. After all, it made me feel somewhat better. Not a whole lot when I read such ghastly garbage like this one, but in a peculiar way, it made me feel closer to him. Maybe this was my way of closure before I focused all of my energy back to the love of my life—Damen.
Chapter 3
Isobel
“You look beautiful—stunning would best describe you tonight, Izz.”
Damen gave me a thorough look of appreciation before placing a quick kiss on my lips, his eyes truly mesmerized as he gazed into my own.
The love of my life, Damen Zabat: the tall, dark-haired, Greek man who had stolen my heart a little over four years ago and hadn’t lessened his love of me since.
Responding to his appreciative words with a brilliant smile, I couldn’t help feeling a guilty pang in my heart, knowing I had misled him about the details as to why I had stayed in Monaco. It wasn’t because it was a great opportunity to put in my resume, working side by side with the great tycoon. It was more of a sacrifice to save my father from his wayward gambling addiction and to also safeguard my mother and my little brother Yannis from his wrath.
Though it had started and felt as though I was a sacrificial lamb in the beginning, the moment I had let Hugo intimately touch me, I surely didn’t feel like anything remotely close to a lamb or otherwise. In fact, he had made me feel beautiful. It was rather surreal, as if we were living in our own sort of tale driven by lust, seduction, and unprecedented romance.
If I explained any of that to Damen, would he understand and not judge me in any way? I wasn’t sure. Maybe that was why I hadn’t disclosed much to Claire, either, because I was rather afraid they would see me differently. Then again, if they did, who could blame them?
I was close, too close, to giving in to Hugo Xavier’s compellingly seductive skills in and out of the bedroom. With one hungry look, my vagina would start clenching so badly I would tense around him while he gave my pussy double the work.
Hugo might have thought me indifferent to his advances, but I wanted him badly. I hadn’t realized just how much until I had seen him walk out of my life without any hope of giving me another chance.
So, here I was, dealing with my reality and getting back to my life, putting myself into a weird funk. Here I was, out with my peers, with Damen amongst them, hoping that I would find a way through the chaotic web of internal battle I had with my feelings.
We were at a pub down south named Lazy Lad where folks could sit close to the riverbank while enjoying their pint of beer or the special in-house concoction of Pimm’s. It was a little crowded with my friends sitting on the grass whilst enjoying the view and the cozy ambiance that made this place one of our favorite spots. Be it a school day or during the weekend, we always managed to hang out here.
With everyone around and with my Greek man next to me, we started the merry drinking as we chatted about how difficult our studies had been during the week.
After a few glasses of wine, sitting side by side with Damen on the cut grass, I was finally able to relax and enjoy the moment without having to stress about my life as he softly held my hand while laughing at Ethan’s jokes. With his strong voice and bald head, he made the most brilliant Manchester United puns.
“Boreíte na me kánei ef̱tychisméni̱,” Damen whispered into my ear, making me suddenly blush as I connected my eyes with his.
He just said how much I made him happy, but I was on the fence, unsure of how to respond to his sentiment. I was happy, wasn’t I?
“I know…” I said, murmuring back with a heavy heart.
“Can we speak tonight?” he softly pressed, giving me that pleading look that never failed to melt my heart.
I was starting to tense up, but I didn’t disconnect my gaze from his intense, deep one.
“What do you want to speak about?” I inquired cautiously with a small, strained smile.
“Us,” he uttered with conviction. “We need to talk about us, Izz. You know as much as I do that it’s high time we do.” There was a catch to his tone that started the alarm bells rattling hard.
“Okay, we shall talk tonight,” I conceded, hoping that whatever Damen had in mind wouldn’t be completely straining on me emotionally.
Much to my chagrin, I was the one left taken aback from his rather surprising revelation two hours later when he and I decided to take a walk to get some fresh air.
“Can
you—can you repeat that again? I think I misheard what you just said.” I was a stuttering mess, staring wildly at him, dropping a Nagasaki like bomb on me that left me flabbergasted.
“I said, I was wondering where this is all going, because I feel you’re with me, but you’re not truly with me, Izz. You can barely stand it when I kiss you, so if this is where we’re heading, I’d rather step back and let you be happy without me. I don’t want to feel this way, like I have to push myself on you every time and feel worthless the moment I feel you tense in my arms, as if I’m going to force myself on you.”
“I didn’t realize…” I trailed off, wondering if I had really acted as such each time he had tried to be intimate with me. Dammit.
He sighed, giving me sorrowful look. “I love you, and I suppose I will always love you, but maybe it’s time we try to see other people. I’m your first, so maybe you’re curious to see how it is to be with other men. I don’t know, Isobel. This is all so confusing for me.”
I wasn’t sure why, yet there was this nagging feeling that there was more to what he was telling me.
“Is there another girl in the picture?”
“Not precisely.” He paused, looking away. “Not yet, but not from her lack of trying.”
Huh. That hurt. A lot.
“Did you do—?”
“No, of course not!” he vehemently said as he cut me off, seeming insulted that I had even formulated the words in my mind, let alone speak them.
I nodded, trying to comprehend everything he had just said, but could only focus on the fact that he wanted to separate because he thought it best for us to see other people. Was this more about me or more about him? I wasn’t so sure anymore.
Though it hurt to probe into his thoughts, I knew I would be tormented with endless questions if I didn’t do so; therefore, it was best to swallow the pain and brave this one out.
