Page 132 of Prelude To You

“Let me not piss on your parade, Byron, but in case you haven’t noticed he's still alive. So don’t make any plans to conquer the world just yet.”

He turned back at the door, looking as menacing as he could manage with his pampered appearance. “Remove that veto frommy expense account, or I’ll personally find your one-night stand and make her apologize to Celeste for being so rude.”

A loaded silence fell. We locked gazes across the length of the room. The relentless ache inside me shifted to cold hard fury. I pronounced every word with precision so there could be no misunderstanding. “Byron, if you come within a mile of her, I will fucking bury you.”

Byron smirked. “See, up ‘til a second ago I didn’t think she mattered all that much to you, despite Celeste saying you seemed so idiotically smitten. Nice bit of acting earlier when you were all blasé about her. Look at you, big bro, finally going soft on a girl. I mean, it only took what, thirty-two years?”

My anger seeped into every molecule in the room. “That’s not a warning, Byron. It’s a promise. I will cause you so much pain you won’t know what hit you. And you’ll never see it coming.”

Byron knew I meant every word. He hissed through gritted teeth. “You’re so much more like your father than you realize.”

“He’s your father too,” I hissed back. “Tell me you understand every fucking word I just said to you.”

Byron raised his hands in defense, backing off. “Okay, okay. Calm down. Jesus. Now you actually have me curious about this woman. But anyway, remove the veto and we’re cool.”

“I’ll consider it. Please leave, I have work to do.”

I sat down behind my desk and never looked at Byron again. The slamming door at the far side of the room announced his departure. I was left with something like agonizing frustration at not being able to protect Isabel from people like Byron and Celeste.

They were not bookshop trolls she could easily put in their place. Malice was programmed into Byron and Celeste’s DNA, and together they were a destructive force, willing to ruin anything they thought might get in their way. There was simplyno bridge too big, too long, or too important that Byron wasn’t willing to burn.

Once again, I was stunned by this incredible feeling of wanting to shield Isabel from anyone and anything that might harm her. For all the hard decisions I’d made to stay away from her, I was unable to stop hoping for some way she could be part of my life, despite the obvious hopelessness of the situation.

When I looked down, my hands were shaking. The only mild assurance I had was that Byron knew me, and he understood that I didn’t waste time making idle threats. But the self-destructive path Byron had chosen made him unpredictable at best. The only thing left to do was make sure Isabel was safe, and would remain that way.

37

ISABEL

The rest of the day, I hid in Henry’s room like a fugitive running from the law. We played Monopoly, and inexplicably Henry kept winning. I blamed losing on being distracted by my pending fate. Every time someone entered the room, I jumped.

“Someone had too much coffee,” one of the nurses remarked with a sarcastic smile. She was undoubtedly the tattletale who’d sent Miss Leyland that picture of Henry’s room with my embellishments.

I took my break and came back when they were done.

Tired of losing at Monopoly, I decided it was time for Henry and me to watch a movie. Ever since leaving the library, grief had held me hostage, and the hopelessness of it all crawled into my psyche and threatened to peel away the last layer of my concocted charade about everything being fine.

So I lined upJane Eyre,with Orson Welles and Joan Fontaine, because it’s romantic and tragic and beautiful. And would make me cry and I needed a legitimate reason to free these tears stinging my eyes behind the lids.

During the movie, I started to sob when Jane Eyre found out she couldn’t marry Rochester, the man she loved, because he was already married to some crazy bitch he’d never told Jane about.

It was not a pretty, girly cry where tears gently slipped from beneath my lashes. No. This was wracking, heaving sobs that might have a concerned bystander wondering whether to call a doctor or a priest.

“What the actual hell?” I mumbled to Henry through my tears. “What is it with men and their conniving secrets? I’ve watched this movie a million times and only now do I realize what an asshole Rochester is being here. And sure I might just be bitter but that’s not acceptable behavior.”

I never saw Miss Leyland come into the room. “Are you all right, Isabel?” she asked, and if I wasn’t mistaken she was biting back a smile.

“Oh, Miss Leyland, I didn’t see you there,” I said, “Yes, I’m fine. It’s just Rochester acting like an ass—a jerk… Is it already time to go home?”

“You don’thaveto go. By all means finish watching the film. I can tell George to wait for an hour or so.”

I remembered Miss Leyland telling me that Henry had visitors at night. I didn’t need Roman walking in on me and finding a pathetic weeping wreck coming unglued beside his ailing father. “We can finish the movie tomorrow, no problem,” I said quickly, and tried to blow my nose gracefully, which was impossible.

That’s to say there was a tomorrow for me in this house.

As long as Emily didn’t mention me to Roman, things would be fine. And there really wasn’t any reason why she would. She handled staff, and for all intents and purposes, I was staff. Very much so. Why would she have any reason to discuss staff with Roman? Surely he had more important things to focus on.

But the mere thought that Roman might find out he’d slept with the help constricted my throat. I was happy to go home, away from the potential doom awaiting me around every corner. And much as optimism was my outlook of choice, there was simply no denying that my current situation was a clusterfuck in the making.

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