Page 92 of Pride

I swallow hard, as although I try to tell myself that’s the case, I’ve been going crazy wondering where he is and why he’s not with me.

Slowly, I shake my head. “I’m not glad. You may drive me crazy, but this is our honeymoon. Aren’t we supposed to spend it together?”

His jaw clenches as he rubs a hand across the back of his neck. He’s still in his board shorts, but he’s wearing a shirt now. “This isn’t a normal marriage, Bella. Did you expect we’d be holding hands and skipping off into the sunset?”

I narrow my eyes. “There’s no need to be an asshole about it,” I spit.

He sighs and comes to sit on the sofa next to me. “There’s no need to sugarcoat what this is.”

“There’s no reason we can’t try to get along, since this is our reality now.”

His eyebrow hitches slightly in surprise. “And that’s what you want?”

I nod in response, as I know the only way to uncover his plan is to get closer to him. The more he trusts me, the easier it will be. “How about we have some dinner at the restaurant and talk?” I suggest.

His gaze is heavy and intense as he studies me with a scrutiny that nearly takes my breath away. Finally, he speaks again.

“Fine, I’ll go and have a shower and get ready.” He radiates distrust as he stands and walks away from me. And it makes me wonder what happened to him in the past to make him the way he is, and does it have something to do with my family?

I hate the desire that claws at me to follow him, but I remain seated, waiting patiently for him to get dressed. If I’m going to gain his trust, we can’t be having sex constantly.

After what feels like an age of twiddling my thumbs, Isiah appears dressed in a tailored navy-blue suit. His brown hair is styled meticulously without a strand out of place, and he looks absolutely stunning. He’s all sharp angles and power, his broad shoulders looking almost too strong to be contained in the slim material of his jacket.

Despite seeing him like this every time we’ve met, I can’t help but admire him right now. Finally, I bring my eyes back to his face and the look in those beautiful blue eyes flecked with gold takes my breath away. I quickly shift my gaze away, not wanting him to see the expression on my face or he’ll detect the tumultuous feelings playing havoc within me.

“Stop blushing like an idiot and come here,” he demands.

I glare at him while simultaneously my desire hits me. He opens his mouth and ruins it all. “Do you have to be so rude?”

He smirks. “I sense you enjoy it really, all the push and pull.” He arches a brow and I hate that in a way he’s right. Our sparring is part of the reason he’s so intoxicating. “Come on, love.” He holds out his hand for me to take and I stare at it for a little while, before moving forward and slipping mine into his.

Electricity races through my veins at his touch, and a soft gasp escapes my lips. In turn, a soft smile graces his beautiful lips, but he doesn’t make any more annoying comments. Instead, he leads me out into the beautiful night as stars cast a twinkling display over the water. “I’ll never get over the beauty of this place. It’s what life should be about.”

Isiah tilts his head. “How do you mean?”

“Everyone wants more money, more power, more material things.” I sigh heavily. “Why would anyone need anything other than that?” I signal at the star speckled sky, which is the clearest I’ve ever seen.

The look on Isiah’s face is one of turmoil in itself, making me wonder if he’s feeling as mixed up as I am. I’m sure no one has ever looked at me in quite this way before. “You are not what I expected at all, Bella.” His voice is soft.

“In a good way or a bad way?” I ask.

“Good way,” he says, his voice a little haunted. He clears his throat. “We best get a move on,” he says, trying to change the subject.

We enter the restaurant with only one table for us to enjoy, since we are the only two on the isolated island. The restaurant is located in a small, cozy wooden hut nestled away amongst the trees. Candles light up the room, giving it a romantic atmosphere as soft jazz music plays in the background. A red and white checked tablecloth covers a large round table set for two with china plates and silver cutlery carefully arranged on top.

It's so surreal being in a place where we're the only two people, and yet I like it. It feels like true freedom. And yet it also feels empty because there’s not the usual clinking of glasses and cutlery or smell of delicious food surrounding us.

“Good evening,” the server says, approaching us. “Here is the menu. If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask.” He places a large board down on a stand with handwritten options.

“Thank you,” Isiah says, glancing at me. “Can we get a bottle of pinot noir to begin with?”

“Certainly, sir,” he says, scurrying off to fetch the drink.

“What about your whiskey?” I ask.

Isiah shrugs. “I drink wine on occasion.”

“I see. What wine do you usually go for?”

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