I hiccup, giving him a weak smile, trying to get myself under control. I wipe my eyes and start to back away, but he takes my wrist and holds it like he doesn't want to let go.
He looks at my face and then back into the doorway I just stumbled from, the brothers' voices getting louder.
"Please?" I say, tugging at my arm, "I'm fine really."
I keep backing away from him, and he finally lets my wrist go. Turning to the right, I head down the hall where I first met Maria; I know there is a powder room just past the big buffet table.
Taking a chance, I glance behind me. The huge man is watching me, his shoulders squared and his chest puffed out, fists in a white-knuckle grip at his sides.
He looks angry,very angry. I just seem to be making everyone mad tonight.
Sprinting to the bathroom, I struggled with the door handle in my rush to get inside. The handle finally clicks and I rush in, slamming the door behind me, and press my body back against it.
Closing my eyes, I suck in a big breath. A wave of nausea hits the back of my throat and I rush to the toilet, hitting the floor hard with my knees. I kneel over and lift the lid just in time.
Once I finally empty my stomach, I grab some toilet paper beside me and wipe my mouth. I fall on my butt and lean against thewall, feeling hollow and empty inside.
Bringing my knees up to my chest, I hold onto my legs, resting my head on my arms. The tears flow freely now that I am alone. I can not stop them, even if I wanted to. How could this simple dinner turn into such a nightmare?
How am I supposed to face a lifetime with this brutal man if the prospect of one single dinner makes me piss my pants?
I can't see my way out.
I bang my head on my knees. Think Isabella? Use your head instead of your fear.
Stop crying for a minute, then get it together. As Dr. Marshall says, do not let fear rule your mind. Control what you can control and work on one problem at a time.
Okay? Problem one.
I need to leave this bathroom and face a dinner party of angry family members. Mine especially. Get up, that is the first step. Slowly lifting my trembling body from the floor; I turn on the cold-water tap in the sink, scooping handfuls to rinse out the bitter taste in my mouth. Splashing some water on my face, I let the cold water cool my burning cheeks.
I look up at myself in the mirror. I am such a mess.
Black streaks run down my cheeks. My hair is a bird's nest on top of my head, and my eyes are red and puffy from crying. The face reflected back at me is paper white and my dress is soaked in a vee across my boobs.
I would give anything to go back to this morning and tell that image of myself to run. Pack my bags and disappear.
The evening is still not over. I still have to walk out there and face his family, my family, and sit through dinner.God!
My stomach heaves at the thought as bile rises, and I feel like I am going to throw up again. I cup more water to my lips andtake a small drink. I need to get myself under control. I am pretty sure I threw up the pill that Sebastian handed to me, so that's not going to help.
"Chester, Charlie, and Chad," I repeat to myself.
I keep repeating it in my head as I grab a small hand towel off the rack and start to dry my face.
I wipe away the black streaks on my cheeks and dab at my wet dress, trying to rub it dry as best I can. My hair? I can only finger-comb out the knots and I make a ponytail with my hand, and I start to twist it up, winding the mass around the back of my head and tucking the end into the bun at the base. A few pieces escape, framing my face, but it looks better than when I came in here.
I lean closer to the mirror and turn my face back and forth, looking at the slight red marks on my neck. They won't leave a bruise, but I cannot hide them.
A knock sounds on the door, making me scream and jump back, holding my chest in one hand and the sink in the other.
"Times up, Isabella." His deep voice vibrates through the door.
Alexander!
Panic starts to creep in again and I cannot move as I stare at the door holding my breath. It is the only thing keeping me safe. My throat is thick and I can not bring myself to answer him, let alone move to open the door.
Still, I will eventually have to. I can't stay in the Russos' restroom forever. I'll have to brave a room full of people at some point tonight and get through dinner. I have to make every effort to continue this charade until I figure out how to save us both from this disaster of a marriage.
