The Prince and The Charming

8. They Meet Again

Isabella’s eyes stood sharp and big at his revelation.

Her heart dropped down in her stomach, her ribs closing around her lungs as she felt difficulty breathing, taking in a sharp breath.

“Harold’s engagement?” she mumbled looking up to Charlie’s face who pulled back with a smirk, now seeing Isabella stumbled and shaken.

“Yes!” he smirked over his victory.

After all he knew everything about Isabella’s feelings towards Harold, her Harry! He was the one to reveal that letter to Harry after all and now seeing Isabella’s reaction, he could sense the offset of her tone made her feel displeased.

“Now, let’s don’t be late. I can’t be late to my own brother’s engagement just because of my date now, can I?” he asked in a vicious tone, grabbing Isabella wrist who stood lifelessly.

Harry!

The boy whose memories she had completely buried inside her head, locked in a box, at the back of her mind, pictures of moments, burned forever somewhere in the trash of her brain. Now everything seemed out.

As Charlie pulled her towards the large decorated hallway, with grand chandeliers hanging down, she closed her eyes, letting him guide her.

She tried brushing away all the memories of Harry. His smile, the smile for which she was ready to commit any crime. His eyes, so sinfully cold and blue. His face so godly carved and sexy. His hair, sleeking over his head, resting silently like dark waves of sea.

Memories one after, another one flashed through mind as someone opened up the chamber of dusty memories, that she had buried eight years ago down in her mind.

All her senses had stopped working as Charlie was still dragging her, but a jolt sparked deep within her when she felt someone crash into her and something wet poured right over her dress, followed by rattling sound of shredding glasses.

She felt Charlie’s grip over her wrist loosen, which she took in an opportunity to step back from him, as she opened her eyes and saw a trembling waitress, shivering holding an empty tray of glasses splattered as Charlie shot a death glare at her way.

“I…. I … apologize…” she fumbled with her words as Charlie cut sharp through at her.

“What the hell is this? Are you f*****g blind?” he rudely snapped at her. brushing away the tiny droplets of fluid that fell over the arm of his black suit and weren’t even visible. Even Isabella wasn’t that wet, but her dress had growing marks of red over the lace.

“It’s fine, I’ll just clean up.” She mumbled a smile at the trembling waitress giving her some reassurance in humanity.

Charlie c****d an eyebrow at Isabella that the waitress took as her cue and sprinted away. he rolled his eyes and walked ahead without looking at Isabella. Heaving a sigh, Isabella walked down towards the toilets.

Standing in front of the mirror cleaning herself, she looked at her face, even with all that makeup she still looked pale. Taking deep breaths, she leaned against the sink basin, having no idea of what do to next.

He first instinct was to sprint away from the scene but she also couldn’t risk what Charlie was holding over her head.

Taking a deep breath, she decided to face everything that stood her way, so she put on her brave face.

Eight years, you did yourself good Isabella. Don’t let anything or anyone put you down.

She taught herself a valuable lesson and repeating those words, she walked out of the bathroom stalls and went towards the wide corridor, passing down a row of suited men, each one of them taking their time to study Isabella and her beauty but her mind was too preoccupied to notice anything or anyone, including her own father, which was until she heard his familiar voice that was still very recognizable to her.

She turned her head sideways, towards the corridor that led, towards the main hall and squeaked a gasp as she saw her father and the King Robert Edwards, walking down the hallway discussing something important.

She knew if her father saw her, it would be a soap opera, because her father wouldn’t care for the time and place just to scold her for showing her face. Her internal instincts worked as she rushed to her left, opposite to where the two gentlemen were walking to. she saw a small door to the wall and luckily it opened as she hid herself in it.

It went dark for her, but she still could hear her father talking, his voice still soothed her soul. She still went stiff to that tone and hoarse voice that grown even more corky over the past few years as she remembered. Keeping her hand over the closed door, resting her forehead against the door, her heart whiffed with emotions. Sorrow for not being able to stand right in front of her father, guilt for hurting him but also some anger, that he just couldn’t accept her for who she was.

“I miss you!” she whispered slowly against the door, just to let herself feel a way of conveying her feelings to him.

Even though he was never the kind of loving, caring and sweet father, who would spoil her with adorn love but he was still her father and she still missed his scolds, being the only memories of his, she had.

Her eyes were blinded with tears that sprint down on the floor, some even resting over her thick mascara gritted eyelashes. Cleaning as much as cry from her face and mind, she decided to take a deep breath and open up the door to leave.

But it turned out, it was the indeed the worst night of Isabella’s life.

Obviously the door was stuck!

She rotated the lock once, twice and many other times but each time, she tried pushing on, but it didn’t work. She even pushed over it but she was still stuck. She began feeling claustrophobic, even though she wasn’t one, but the closet she was stuck in seemed too small for even a normal breathing space and she felt scared as to if no one would ever find her.

She began banging over the door, with loud screams for help.

She even kicked over the door but the barky wooden door was too strong to even budge. But perhaps Isabella’s good deed didn’t go to waste. As she was leaning against the door and pushing it outwards, someone opened it up from outside that made her slip outwards and fall directly stumbling into a strong figure.

She heard the person on the other end, yelping as two strong arms wrapped around her waist and held her before stumbling back into the wall.

She hit her head hard, but breathed out, sensing more air around her. her hair messed up in front of her face but she stood steady, normalizing her uneven breaths, that had quickened inside the closet. She held her hands over a strong figure, supporting her shaking legs from falling down.

The hair from her face were removed by two firm hands, as a finger went underneath her chin, lifting her face up to look directly into a pair of ocean blue eyes.

Isabella stood shocked, looking right in front of her, instantly recognizing the breeziest blue eyes she had ever remembered. She looked over at the face, the small stubble grown around the sharp cheeked jawline, the brunette hair resting in the perfect sideways style.

She gasped suddenly realizing who she was standing in front of, pushing herself away.

Sensing her uneasiness, the guy stood straight up asking, “Are you okay? You were yelling in there.”

She gulped looking up at him once more, to be sure if it was really him and her heart exploded looking right at him. At Harry! Her Harry. But he wasn’t her Harry anymore.

“Do you need any medical help? You look distressed.” He asked taking a step towards her that made her take a step back.

He was Prince Harold Edwards. And she had no right or truce on him, whatsoever. He had left her eight years ago and nothing about that had changed, not even that fact that he didn’t even recognize her.

Accepting the fact, that things were now different for the better Isabella simply nodded her head. “I am fine.” She mumbled softly walking away from him.

Yes! She felt good about her actions, because walking away and moving on was the best thing she could’ve ever done. He didn’t even recognize her, their friendship was indeed a long lost chapter that didn’t need to be reread.

Isabella, cornered herself against the bar, grabbing a margarita and thanking God, for Charlie’s absence who would’ve pushed every button on Isabella’s mind and patience meter.

She kept her eyes over the drink and wishing to stay just invisible as people roamed and talked around the hall.

She lifted her gaze up and roamed her eyes around a little just to see an old man, quite old one, standing at a distance, surrounded by a bunch of other men, looking bored out of his mind. Isabella smiled looking at him.

He had grown shorter in height, completely grey with much lesser hair, more wrinkled skin.

George. He was indeed her best friend, her truest friend. Charlie and Harold’s grandfather who dearly adored Isabella.

When she left home, she left him a letter. He was sleeping in his chamber as she passed down the letter to the butler to give it to him.

Something in her mind, pushed her to see George. Gaining all the courage inside her, she walked up to him, holding his favorite drink, scotch on the rocks. Remembering the letter that she wrote him, that he read sitting over his bed on the morning as the butler served him with his morning tea after his jog with his son Robert.

“Georgie! As I told you, one day I will have to go! I am sorry, it had to be this way but things like these happen, when you are running away from home. But here’s something I promise you, the next time we meet, I will be old enough to make you, your favorite drink for the game, complete the game of chess that we left, and finally defeat you one day!”

George smiled reading the letter, he had no anger or remorse but all he did was wished the best for Isabella and hoped she really did achieve what she had set her path on. He looked over the incomplete game of the chess that they had left and wished to have her defeat him finally.

Now Isabella stood, clearing her throat, smiling at George as she passed him the glass of his favorite drink. George looked at the beautiful young woman, offering him the drink, something that hadn’t happen to him in a long while. His butler Steward stepped ahead, extending his arm at Isabella;

“Sir George, is not allowed to drink.” He pushed the glass away, not letting the young girl that he thought was advancing at the old guy.

Isabella chuckled, rolling her eyes, “You still never get it Steward do you?” she smirked playfully at him as the two men looked at each other with utter confusion, “Do you really think Georgie, still doesn’t drink behind your back?”

Just saying that name brought a huge smile at George’s face.

“No way! Bellum?” he beamed pushing Steward away who himself had a huge smile, plastered over his face looking at the beauty in front of him.

Isabella shrugged her shoulders with a sinful smile. She extended her arms as George leaped in and engulfed her in a hug.

George was always the one to spoil her in every possible way, by showering her with love and care. And feeling his love, Isabella’s heart filled with warmth. She had missed someone’s warmth for a long time and someone as close as George, filled her with happiness.

“Look at you, you’re such a gorgeous one.” He cupped her chin making her blush deep red.

She smiled looking down at the floor.

“I must say Ms. Rowan, you did turn into a beautiful lady.” Steward made his ancient professional comment.

Which made both George and Isabella look at him and back at each other, bursting into fits of laughter which Stewards always distasted as the two ganged up against him.

“I see you are old enough to carry my drink?” George commented, grabbing the drink from Isabella’s hands.

She smiled at him, “And you’ve been old already?” she mocked him, poking over his bulging belly.

He shrugged, “Happens when you don’t play chess anymore. I am still waiting over the game for you.” He nudged his glass making Isabella’s smile as her eyes filled with warm tears but she brushed them away.

As they continued talking and catching up on stuff, Isabella felt her waist wrapped by a strong arm. She turned just to see Charlie holding her down as she huffed in annoyance at him, knowing he was up to no good.

“Good thing you met my date tonight Grandpapa.” He commented cheering his drink up at George.

George knew the trouble child that Charlie always was, having a little idea about his behavior towards Isabella and he immediately distasted the idea of the two being together and Isabella noticed the furrow of his eyebrows which even left her in a confused daze mixed with a feeling of disgust paired by Charlie’s touch.

“I thought you said it wasn’t a date?” she immediately retaliated at Charlie, defending herself smoothly in front of George who smiled noticing her new and changed confidence, “I thought you were my boss who was asking for a favor in return of commencing the project, who’s by the way, I am the head design architect.” She winked at George, taking a step away from Charlie.

He loathed the way she smoothly slipped away and his plan for the night hadn’t even executed and he already felt losing.

“Sir, His Highness Sheikh Zahid is here, asking for you.” Steward informed George who simply nodded at him.

He smiled at Isabella, “Why don’t you wait for me and I shall treat you like a real gentleman?”

She smiled at him, chuckling a little, “I am all yours, your grace.” She curtsied in response.

As George left, giving Charlie the stinky eye, he didn’t miss the way his grandfather had a soft corner for Isabella which he felt troublesome for him.

“Oh Charlie, where had you been?” a soft female voice called out Charlie and Isabella rolled her eyes probably wondering it was one of his many girls, just like the typical playboy, that two brothers were.

She was about to leave when Charlie held her wrist, making her stop. She turned around to see him smirking at her, as he pulled her towards him.

She saw a young petite woman, wearing a white strapless body hugging gown, emphasizing right on her each and every curve. She had blond hair, blue sparkling eyes, plum lips and cheeky bones with a jawline sharp enough to cut through figures.

Charlie smiled knowing it was show time for him, his night had just begun.