Chapter 2

ISA POV

THE FOLLOWING morning came and I woke up with a start! Having no plans for the

future, except for the dreadful toddler party and drinks with neighborhood trophy wives, I

decided to make a quick run to the store and stock up my fridge, since the house came with a

huge chunk of money that I had no idea about its origin, or better yet, I gave zero shit about

where it came from.

As I have mentioned, I wasn’t in a position to even ask questions, or let my mind wander and

overthink things. In just a year alone, I have lived 100 lifetimes and at this point, I wasn’t

going to fight it. I couldn’t! I did try some time back, and I nearly had my ass split open by

the mine explosion so no thank you, ma’am. As long as I had a roof over my head and food in

my stomach, then I was all okay!

With that thought in mind, I settled a few things out before leaving my house and ran to the

store. The trip was short and pretty much uneventful and in just an hour, I was riding a cab

home.

The time was well after 10 in the morning and the street in my neighborhood was a little

buzzed. Saturdays with a bit of holiday always brought out the ‘crazy’ in people.

I paid the cab and hauled many bags up the porch before struggling with the keys that jiggled

when I unlatched a thousand hooks on my door. I don’t know why this house came with a

gazillion security locks, but like I said:

NO QUESTION, NO CASE!

So I did what I had to do and began taking the bags into the house.

I was on my third trip from outside when I ran smack dab into a wall of muscles, tearing a

loud scream from my lungs as the bag went down flying. I clamped a hand on my mouth to

muffle the scream and looked up, and the first thing I saw was an eagle tattoo, with wings

spread wide on the throat. My eyes moved higher and I found HIM staring down at me with a

blank face.

I huffed out a little as I willed my wild heart to calm the fuck down.

“Hey, mama!” He called out in a small voice and brought his hands forward, before bundling

them in front of him and just stood there, poised and unmoving.

“Hi,” I said shortly as I scrunched up to the floor and began picking up the veggies that were

scattered around.

His sneaker-dressed feet left my eyesight as he walked towards the door and picked up the

remaining bags before closing the door behind him, latching a thousand hooks and stalking

towards the kitchen where he dumped the bags on the kitchen island. I peeled myself from

the floor, after having calmed myself down, then took off to the kitchen and busied myself

with unstacking the bags!

“How do you like the place?” His voice boomed around from the kitchen entrance, and I

fought the urge to look up at him. I had some questions I wanted answers to. Questions like

what were his plans with me? Why the hell did he bring me to the US, causing me to leave

my life behind? Why this house has 7 latches, 2 hooks a key, as well as a card key? Why does it have 4 bedrooms and why the hell am I living in it? Where did the money in the back of the

closet come from?

How did he even make it into the house when I made sure I locked it fully before leaving?

But I knew better than to ask. Because this was none, but Xander. In the flesh! I have seen the

guy in action, I have seen how he runs, and I knew better than to cross him.

“It’s fine. I guess. Just a little too big for me.” I replied piling the milk boxes in a shit-ass

double-door fridge.

“Hmmm…. How about we go somewhere, a place where you will smile?” His voice was

suddenly way too close to comfort, and I could feel the heat exuded from his body. I stayed

frigid against the fridge door, unable to move until he removed himself from my back and

faded somewhere.

It was the way he never made a sound when he moved, the way his movements were so swift

you’d never catch him. He was like a cat, very poised, steady, but I tell you, you won’t even

hear a single sound of his shoe hitting the ground. That was one of the things that unnerved

me to the maximum. Xander commanded the air of mystery, and the anonymity in him made

him way too bad to trifle with!

“I can’t! I have a party to attend.” I declined softly, hoping he would just get off my case.

He didn’t reply, and from the silence that followed, I figured he has left, just like how he had

come here. Just disappeared into thin air.

I unglued myself from the fridge and turned, only to find him leaning against the wall, staring

at me without uttering a single word. My heart skipped a million beats at his penetrating

stare, and I found myself fidgeting and fumbling with the bags in an attempt to distract

myself from his intense gaze.

“I will be in the car.” He said softly before turning and then went straight to the front door,

unlocked it, and closed it softly behind him.

As soon as he was out of sight, I lunged for the sink and quickly drew a healthy amount,

before gulping the whole liquid down and allowing myself to breathe all the air I failed to

inhale in his presence. I slammed the glass on the sink and just stared blankly into it.

Just which god or goddess did I offend in my life to be caught up in this mess?

Firstly, it was the twins and the drama that followed their golden reign over me, and now

this? Can't I just have a fuckin' break and live life like a normal person in a normal world?

I heaved out a disturbed sigh at the realization that normal seemed to be a foreign word in my

dictionary!

Knowing that it wasn’t the smartest move to defy him, I exited the house with the only

belonging of mine which was a small purse and fake IDs inside, no phone, nothing that would

make life at least; less miserable.

Outside in my driveway was a black Mercedes Benz G63 AMG, with shiny silver rims. I

nodded to myself admiring the insane black monster and found myself way too excited to hop

in it. Living in Dark Woods had made my interest in cars hit the roof, and I knew all there

was to know about European metal.

I got into the passenger’s seat and he wasted no time swerving it off the road, without any

explanation of where we were going and why. I decided not to be a busy body and ask a

question. So I settled in my seat and watched as the scenery blurred passed. We drove for not more than 15 minutes and before I knew it, we were in the heart of LA, and he swerved

expertly through roads that wormed up in a classic mosaic all around the city.

In about 10 minutes of maneuvering through the busy city, we stopped in front of a huge

building with white walls and blue reflective windows. He didn’t bother explaining why we

were stopping, just killed the engine, hopped off, and had me canoodling behind him. I

followed him into the building and stopped dead in my tracks when I realized it was a clinic!

The reception was so clean with a white desk and three monitors, as well as the loungers that

were opposite the desk. I glanced around in confusion and my eyes landed on him, to find

him steadily watching me, watching every move I made without saying anything.

“What do you think of this place? Want a tour?” He asked tilting his head to the side, as he

backpedaled lightly with his hands grasped at his back.

I didn’t have even the slightest idea of what he was referring to, so I just followed suit and

delved deeper into the clinic.

20 minutes later, we stood right where we first began, at the reception, and I would rather say

this deserved to be a hospital, a private hospital. The clinic had 5 floors and was equipped

with every facility you’d find in a big hospital. I had no idea what I was doing here in the first

place, but being here, being around the pacemakers and hospital beds, the bleached walls, and

scrubbed floors, with a heavy scent of antiseptic and chloroform in the hallways; it felt

magical.

And I felt at home!

“This place is amazing.” I complimented for the umpteenth time, letting my eyes wander a

little longer,

“You like it?” He inquired again and I looked at him to find him side-glaring at me.

“Of course. It reminds me so much of St. Andrews. Except that was a hospital, and this is a

clinic. A big clinic.” I rumbled, mostly to myself than to him.

“That’s great. 'Cause it’s yours!”

Wait, what?

So much for January 1st!