POV of Isabella
*
"He what?" you ask. Phina gasped in shock, her eyes wide, and I'm positive my face was still the same as hers. She recently returned from a trip she took to Manila, the Philippines, with her boyfriend and came straight here instead of going to the Duckling's house.
The Ducklings were paying more than enough for her to watch Marian for a few hours whenever they weren't on their usual trip, and her father was well off, but Phina just felt she could do something to earn herself a little more money so she would train herself to never depend on anyone.
He stated it, I believe. I shook it off, but it was a big thing! I could tell I was still affected by what had happened even through the shrug since my shoulders were still tense.
Even though it had been two days, it seemed like he had just finished!
Even though it happened days earlier, I was still shocked and had jittery tingles where he had held me in the kitchen. I was currently working with Phina in the kitchen's store area as we organized some groceries.
Young master had never actually spoken to me, so I was still shocked that he even carried on a regular conversation with me as if we spoke frequently. claiming that he wanted to drag me to some awful event.
Even my mother observed how I was behaving yesterday, even before I went to bed, but she didn't probe further.
"Is it okay if you bring someone else?" Finally, Phina questioned in a tone tinged with optimism and rose from the squeaky wooden chair to raise the sleeves of her turtleneck.
I gave her a strange stare in my direction. She asked me if she could come along since I was going alone with him and was still anxious about it. Speaking of leeches!
I gave her a glare. "No!"
"But he stated," She scoffed as I interrupted her with another heart-stopping gaze.
"Phina, there is no us. Didn't you hear everything I've been yelling about since you arrived? I dropped the new box of tomato paste and seasoning on the ground as I exited the store, bent over, and began to organize them.
"Yeesh. If I didn't know you, sweetie, I'd assume you were making some sort of claim to him. I chuckled hesitantly. I felt a chill run down my spine at the notion of making a claim on someone as cold and cruel as the young master alone.
"You may possess him. He is all yours. I mumbled. She rolled her eyes as she bowed to join me.
No thanks, please. The prince of my heart has already taken up residence in that location, and now that I think about it, he has been acting strangely since yesterday, and we haven't even communicated effectively since I returned. He better be okay, I hope. The final two tomato paste sachets were placed in the tidy basket I had just cleaned next to us as she suddenly began to sound concerned.
I carried the container, covered it with the lid, and sealed it completely before storing it in the cabinet with two doors.
"Who?" When she still hadn't stood up from her prone position, I questioned.
The question "Who what?"
"Who are you referring to?" I averted my gaze. During the time she was still talking, my thoughts had already moved on.
"You fool, Michael Jackson!" I still had no idea who she was referring to as she practically hissed at me. Before I left Lucas yesterday, I mentioned his peculiar conduct.
I looked at her with suspicion. Why did she suddenly become pessimistic?
"Why is there violence in my kitchen?" Mama appeared with her smile on, singing teasingly. I was in awe of her and instantly a grin crept across my lips. Even though I was already twenty, I had yet to figure out why she enjoyed smiling so much. I also never grew weary of seeing that smile occasionally grace her lips.
Since they were so close, she had been depressed and reclusive for days after her father's passing. It hurt me to see her that way, but I had given her the space she required. I was happy to see that she eventually overcame her despair. Even though it had been precisely seven years, she continued to visit his grave and speak to him as if he were still alive.
That served as her means of venting, in her opinion. If he was still alive, she could have simply vented to him about these things.
Mama wiped her hands properly on a tidy napkin and blinked at me as she shut off the water faucet near the sink.
What significant wrongdoing did Isabella commit in relation to my preferred daughter? She asked while grinning. She asked, and as I saw her disregard me, I gasped. She joined Phina, who had already begun cleaning some onions of dirt. As I watched Phina pretend to smile innocently, which I immediately recognized as a lie, my eyes automatically began to roll.
Nothing, mama; she's simply a naive goat that enjoys upsetting me. In response to her question, Phina giggled and gave me a chic glow.
"Monkey!" I sighed angrily and remained still in my place of employment, no longer ready to assist in the onion-peeling process.
"I'm correct,"
How did I irritate you? You said something involving a young man, but what exactly were you talking about? My mind had drifted when I asked, and I forced back a guilty chuckle because I knew she wasn't pleased with me.
Her stare grew more intense as her nose flared. Caprá: "You weren't even listening to what I was saying!"
"You keep talking about me as if I'm in your head, but I'm not a goat. How would I recognize the person you are referring to?
She growled at my chastisement. "Caprá." She continued to call me a goat. Who labels a person a goat?
I gave her a scowl. "Pollo."
"Scimmiá!"
"Gorilla!"
"Pesce." A sneer started to form on her lips as she spat again.
This time, I gasped once more since she deliberately said that. I couldn't be considered a fish just because I once came dangerously close to drowning in the enormous pool at the gym and because I detested getting wet. When Mama walked in, she shook her head and laughed at how silly we were.
"Keep gasping, Isabella, and you'll choke on your breath." She mildly reprimanded me.
I don't want to see your fat-ass face any longer, so I'm going to my room. Phina moaned and grinned at her mother before leaving.
"Can you tell me again why I'm her friend?" After much complaining, I finally helped my mother peel the onion.
You can't live without her because you adore her. Mama responded with a chuckle.
Yes, she is free to wish.
"I'm sure you do. Go up to her right away to make her stop being so irate with you. She continued to tease, and I wrinkled my nose in anger.
I wasn't lesbian at all! (Lesbian)
"Mama, that's really not the right thing to say!" I snapped, annoyed as a fleeting flash of an image of me actually doing that caused me to grimace. Nope, I was sexually straight, and the idea of me kissing a girl didn't appeal to me. I wasn't disgusted, though.
Mama used to be passionate about writing, and she even told me that she still was; however, after being pregnant, her dream of becoming a writer was put to rest. She used to adore the concept of imagining various scenarios involving lesbians, gays, or romance romances set in Elizabethan times. I admired her for thinking about people doing what they wanted even though society frowned upon it.
She never made judgments, but her views still held. Any time, any day.
In contrast to me, she adored reading books and still does. I remember the gleam in her eyes when she talked about it when I was much younger. Even though I didn't yet know the whole details of her background, she eventually left her hometown and fled with my dad, and now she was in the kitchen of the irritable young master.
Mama let out a small chuckle at my remark before remaining silent and concentrating on chopping the onions.
She would combine them and then chill them. She claimed that the key was to properly cover, mix, and preserve the food so that even after some time had passed, the food would still have all of its nutrients. It might keep for a few days in the fridge.
"Where is the cinnamon?" you ask. It was her.
The counter is where it is. I believe that most ingredients have been consumed. She looked at the counter as I responded. My thoughts wandered back to the conversation I had with the young master a few days earlier as I kept my eyes on the onion I was slicing.
"Isabella?"
"Uh?"
"Take a short nap, then put on some clothes. To go to the grocery store and then the supermarket to get me some food, I'll phone you and Phina later.
"Sí mama." I replied, but didn't go until I had eaten the last onion. In order to avoid running into the young master or even seeing his shadow, I virtually sprinted through the hallways as I made my way to the stairs.
I twisted my shoulders to release the strain that had built up there as I pondered all that had occurred since I returned from school. With a man I hardly knew, how would I manage? Even though he was the only person I knew there, we went to the event together.
Though that made me feel a little relieved, I still felt that familiar hurt in my chest over how he treated me. I was confident he would ignore me and be on his phone during the event we were going to attend. It's not like he actually knew I was a snob or something. Why did he treat me so harshly all the time? He was usually out when I was growing up, so I never ran into him in the hallway. We never talked because, well, there wasn't anything to talk about.
I avoided him and his scathing glares because he was about five years older than me. We didn't talk for too long about anything.
When did I ever even cross his mind that I would be the ideal person to invite to that 'economic influencer' event? He did mention that I was brilliant, or more precisely, he had mentioned it. What on earth did he know about me?
How could he even know what I was studying, I hear you ask? Most likely because he covered the cost of my education and all connected expenses. The cause would be that. He probably didn't want to spend money on me if he didn't know what the outcome would be in the end. I was about to move forward after passing his room when I heard a strange noise that sounded like someone was in pain. I stopped moving forward.
Why did I have to listen well and be aware of everything around me? With my heart pounding, I nervously took a step back and inched toward the door. My breathing would be cut off if I moved too much because it felt like my heart was under my legs.
My legs trembled, but I had the confidence to take a cautious look through the keyhole. My muscles tense up as my palm slowly rests on the door, but as it stops making strange creaking noises, I let out a breath. But why did he leave his chamber door open?
I got in the right position and peered. On a foot, my left eye landed. I sat up straight and trailed my eyes upward, but I stopped when I saw that he was still naked up to his thighs. When the sigh recurred, it caught me off guard and I nearly jerked forward. My eyes grew wider.
What do you have to say? You ought to go right now! Why was he groaning, though? My subconscious shouted in terror, and I became even more terrified than before.
Was he suffering? I decided to take a closer look, so I let my eyes drift farther to his thighs. He uttered another noise.
"Yes...you've got no idea, goodness!," said the speaker.
I kept a sharp eye on him as his chest heaved violently.
"Ohh..." He snorted. My eyes grew wider. I saw that while he was moaning, his other hand was moving up and down as if he were rubbing it. He was wailing loudly. I changed the direction I was leaning.
I came in closer because I couldn't see him clearly and I could hear him groaning. His rubbed hand jerked in an odd manner. No, his other hand wasn't that. How did I get so stupid? His tiny man, who didn't appear to be all that little, was there between his knees.
As I watched him move his hand frantically over his dingly dingly, which I couldn't see clearly, and he continued groaning, my legs started to tremble a little.
My legs clinched together as I felt a pull in the pit of my stomach and in the area around my neoplasm. Although I was having trouble breathing, I couldn't take my eyes off the little man he was massaging, and a surge of lust swept over me.
"Faster! Faster! "My princess," He groused. "I can't...fuck can't help it, but I love you, baby...yes…"
In panic, my eyes widened. I ought to go. I should depart immediately and not...
"Isabella..." He was groaning so loudly that it sounded like a howl to me. I craned my neck to observe his face twist so skillfully, and his hand loosened its grip as a tiny smile settled on his vivacious face. He continued to heave and appeared—dare I say—happy? Yes. The gaze was that.
As something clicked into place, I got to my feet properly and sprinted to my room. I ran until my legs trembled under me. Even though I had no idea where I was going, I ran through the corridor.
Has he seen me if he merely called my name?