Chapter Twelve
Isabelle was shocked when Khalil paid an unexpected visit to her wing. She hadn’t seen him since he had banned her from leaving the house and the estate, and even though she had wanted to offer him an apology, the opportunity had never presented itself.
She remembered how shocked she had been to open her eyes and see him standing next to her bed, his imposing presence forcing itself on her. She had looked up at his black eyes, her brows furrowing in confusion as he demanded her presence that evening for a formal dinner and then left her room as unceremoniously as he had entered, leaving a stunned Isabelle staring after him.
And now she stood before a mirror, dressed in a black knee-length, long-sleeved dress with a deep V at the back, and with black stilettos on her feet, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She licked her lips and ran her hands through her hair in an attempt to ease the nerves that were building up in her stomach.
Isabelle was nervous. She knew that high-ranking pack members and stakeholders were going to be present, as well as Khalil’s political allies and friends, and also other social elites. A frown graced her forehead as she wondered if they knew about her other than the fact that she was Khalil’s wife. She wondered if they knew about her conduct at the royal ball, or worse, if they had been in attendance and witnessed it herself.
Isabelle wondered if this was Khalil’s way of punishing her...making her go through this dinner as a humiliation ritual. Anger made its way to her and her hands balled into fists. She would not give him the satisfaction.
Isabelle took a deep breath and made her way down to the dining hall, the Persian rug that lined the hallway silencing her footsteps as she walked. She straightened her back as she waltzed into the dining hall, catching the eye and attention of all and sundry.
She watched as Khalil walked up to her, dressed immaculately in a tux, his eyes boring into hers as he took her hand in his and raised it to his lips. Isabelle gasped as she felt a chill run down her spine at his touch.
“I see you made it just in time...” he said, her hand still in his.
“I didn’t realize I had a choice,” she retorted.
A small smile played at Khalil’s lips alongside a playful glint in his eyes. Isabelle began to wonder if she had somehow stepped into another dimension.
“No, you didn’t,” Khalil replied. “But then if you hadn’t come down here on your own accord, I would have had to come up and throw you over my shoulder...” he said as his eyes trailed her person, lingering on the curves of her hips and her legs.
“And I would hate to rumple such a perfect dress.”
Isabelle opened her mouth to speak but words failed her. So instead, she shifted her gaze to the other occupants of the room, who she could tell were pretending to not be listening in on their conversation.
“Why exactly did you want me here?” She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Khalil cocked his brow at her. “You are my wife. Did you forget?”
No, she didn’t forget. All the time she had spent isolated in her room had reinforced the fact that she was his wife, and she was taken round the room with a plastic smile on her face, she began to realize what was expected of her.
Khalil paraded her round the room, introducing her to his peers and associates. She smiled and laughed and looked up at Khalil with nothing but love and adoration in her eyes. She knew that this was temporary, that after tonight he would go back to being the man she knew. But just for tonight, she would play the part of his hostess, his wife...his better half. For now, she would enjoy the attention and joy she derived from the experience because she knew that it would all change as soon as the sun came up.
But then again, nothing ever went the way it was supposed to when it came to Isabelle. And so she was disappointed at her optimism that it would when the double doors swung open again and Cassandra waltzed in as though she owned the place, dressed in a floor-length red dress that showed more cleavage than necessary and red lipstick that accentuated the wicked smile on her lips.
The room grew so silent that if a pin had dropped on the marble floors, it would have been heard through the whole house. And then the whispers began...murmurings and musings that only caused Cassandra’s smile to grow bigger.
Cassandra made her way across the room, her eyes zeroed in on Khalil. Isabelle froze and watched as she threw her arms around her husband and placed a loud kiss on his cheek, marking his lips with her lipstick.
“Cassandra, you’re here,” Khalil said, as he withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the lipstick stain from his cheek, his hand still holding on to Isabelle’s.
A fact that wasn’t lost to Cassandra.
The evil witch chuckled and placed her hand on her hip. “Of course, I’m here,” she replied. “Why wouldn’t I be? It’s an important event after all, and I am important to you.”
Silence followed her declaration. There was so much tension in the room that Isabelle could almost taste it. She wanted the ground to open up and swallow her. She wanted to walk away, go back to the sanctuary of her room, to the peace and solitude it provided. But she couldn’t. Khalil’s grip on her arm saw to that.
Cassandra turned to the crowd that was surveying the situation, and raised her hands, her face beaming with pure joy. “Come on!” She said. “What are we waiting for? Let’s eat!”
Life suddenly returned to the party, and everyone moved to their seats. Isabelle walked with Khalil and watched as Cassandra commandeered the waiters until they had made space for her and placed an extra seat to Khalil’s right while she sat to his left.
Isabelle’s heart plummeted in her chest as she watched Cassandra carry on discussions with Khalil and his guests. She hated how she had been pushed to obscurity all of a sudden. She blinked back the tears and drained her glass, signaling to the waiter to refill it. She felt Khalil’s eyes on her. She could feel him judging every sip she took, his eyes boring into her side as though warning her to watch herself. Oh, how she didn’t care!
This was all his doing after all.
He had wanted to humiliate her. He had made her feel important only to toss her for his favorite whore. She would do whatever she pleased...and if it was getting drunk on white wine and champagne, he would have to deal with it.
“You should stop drinking so much,” Cassandra said, her voice breaking through Isabelle’s thoughts. “You should be more like me...”
Silence once again befell the table at Cassandra’s words. Isabelle knew what she was doing...having seen such behavior from her stepmother and stepsister. She was trying to humiliate her. As though showing up unannounced and usurping her was not enough for the conniving wench.
“More like you?” Isabelle asked and scoffed. “There is nothing about you that is worth emulating, my dear...”
Isabelle smiled as she watched Cassandra’s eyes glaze over. “Is that so?”
“Yes, it is.”
“I am only looking out for you, Isabelle. We both know how much shame and embarrassment you brought to this pack and my darling Khalil with your immature stunt at the ball. We would hate for that to happen again, wouldn’t we?”
Isabelle ignored her and sipped from her glass, neglecting the food that had been placed in front of her. She eyed the door, all she wanted to do was stand and walk towards the door. But she knew that to do that was to let Cassandra win, it was to declare to everyone in that room that she was weak, that she was everything that Cassandra was making her out to be.
Or worse...it was telling them that she was not fit to become a luna.
No. She wouldn’t let her win.
Cassandra scoffed. “I can see why your mother died...” she said coldly.
Isabelle’s eyes shot up. “Excuse me?!”
Cassandra smiled and shrugged her shoulders, finally happy that she had gotten a rise out os Isabelle. “I mean, no one who meets you wants you,” she said.
“Your mother died to escape you. Your family hates you so much that they threw you away. Khalil regrets marrying you. You’re worth nothing.”
Isabelle threw back her head and laughed, fighting against the anger that poured through her. Oh, how she wanted to fling herself across the table and pull Cassandra’s eyes from her sockets. Oh, how she wished that he could pull her tongue out of her mouth for daring to utter such nonsense...for daring to mention her mother.
She looked towards Khalil who regarded her with a cold look. He would not intervene. He didn’t care that she was being insulted. In that moment, she knew that Cassandra was right. He did regret marrying her.
Because if he didn’t, he would rise to the defense of his wife. But he didn’t, rather he sat there and enjoyed his steak while his house caught fire.
“I might be unwanted,” Isabelle said. “But it is definitely better than the embarrassment you keep giving yourself...”
Casandra laughed sardonically. “Whatever do you mean?”
“You are desperate, jobless, hopeless, hanging on to a man who clearly doesn’t want you, hoping that one day he will change his mind. It doesn’t get more pathetic than that.”
Isabelle smiled in triumph as Cassandra's face reddened. She dragged air into her lungs, somewhat shocked at her own actions. She never thought herself capable of defending herself, or even fighting back. Deciding that she had had enough for the evening, Isabelle rose to her feet and made her way back to her room, a small smile playing on her lips.
Just as she opened the door to her room, a hand placed itself on her shoulder. She turned to see Khalil standing behind her, an unreadable look in his eyes and a small smile playing on his lips.
Isabelle sighed heavily, he had probably come to scold her on how she had spoken to the love of his life, how she had disrespected her, and then maybe tell her that she was not allowed to breathe without his permission.
“What?” Isabelle asked coldly, in no mood for niceties.
Khalil’s smile widened as he withdrew his hand. He had no idea where the feisty side of her had come from, but it was not an unwelcome sight. “That was a bit reckless...you should do it often.”
He winked at Isabelle, and before she could register what had happened, he had turned and left, leaving her standing in front of her door, confusion written on her face