CHAPTER FOUR

A black Brunello cucinelli! Immaculately polished. Black pants that did nothing to hide the strong thighs inhabiting them, black tailored turtleneck neatly tucked into the pants – it hugged the torso beneath it, outlining the broad shoulders, muscular chest and what was obviously a packed stomach. 

Wonder if it would be a six-pack or an eight-pack. Is that even a thing? Well. It can be my thing then. 

The black cashmere coat hung over the left hand completed the look. 

Aesthetics? Check! Taste? Check! Fas... Wait. What's his obsession with black tho? Is he going to a funeral or something? Should be a crime to go to one looking this good, right? Is this what others think when I'm on my black clothing saga? Speaking of looking good-

Isabella's eyes trailed further up. Chiseled jaws. Lips drawn to perfection. 

No. No. I would rather say kissable. It's just the perfect shape for a smooch. 

She giggled at her own thoughts, continuing to check him out. Nose that stood taller than the Greek gods. And – Isabella felt a jolt. She was staring into grey eyes that were as beautiful as they were unnerving. The darker, almost charcoal hue was piercing, intense ....the brow above the right eye darted up. She looked away immediately, bringing her cup of coffee up to her lips. She took a sip, glanced up at the MAN in front of her from the rim. 

"Bue..." She cleared her throat. "... Buenos días, senor. Do I know you?" (Sir/Mister)

Now that I think of it, he kinda looks familiar. Have we met before? At the birthday party? He did just call me birthday Queen, didn't he? 

His lips pressed into a thin line, the corner of his eyes twitching. "You need to be subtler than that..."

Isabella almost choked on her coffee. That voice: Deep, smooth, low – a little too smooth 

Is he talking about my staring? No, right?.... Maybe. Damn it. 

"...It's rude to stare. Surely you know that." 

Isabella's eyes narrowed, head tilted to the side. "Men check women out all the time? That isn't rude?"

A brow rose, slowly. "Touché." 

Isabella bristled. For whatever reason, that usually playful word sounded dismissive, mocking, coming from his lips. 

"Thanks for the validation," She turned away, nursing her almost cold coffee. 

He watched her take sips from her coffee, his grip on the coat draped over his arm tightening. "Before you finish that cup, you might want to take a look at this."

Isabella made no attempt to acknowledge his words. She watched through her lashes as he casually laid a neatly rewritten list on the counter in front of her. She glanced at the paper, her eyebrows drawn together. 

"I took the liberty of itemizing everything you destroyed." 

Isabella's eyes shot up from the paper. "Huh?" 

"Coffee, Agnes." 

Isabella watched as the woman in the kitchen, who was obviously the cook, immediately got to work. 

Ah! Great. Judging from her eagerness to serve him, he definitely holds power here. And judging from the semblances I should have seen immediately - THIS is freaking María's brother! Where was my head? 

In the gutter?

Nah. Nah. I was just checking out his sense of fashion. I always do that when I meet people. Especially for the first time. Now, what is all this about everything I destroyed?

"What the hell are you going on about? Destroyed?" 

She got no answer to her question which only served to infuriate her further. Harry took a seat at the island and accepted his cup of coffee from Agnes, bringing it to his lips slowly. He took a sip, his eyes closing as he savored the coffee. If Isabella wasn't so close to hurling the cup in her hand at his head, maybe she would have appreciated and approved the fact that he savored the first sip of coffee just like she did. She had been too out of it earlier to bother with that ritual. 

Get it on, BROther. 

Harry brought the cup slightly above his lips, and allowed the scent of the coffee to fill his nostrils. When he opened his eyes, he was staring at her, his eyes running over her face. Isabella shifted uncomfortably in her seat, momentarily unnerved by the intensity of his stare. 

"Yes," he said slowly. "Destroyed. Including but not limited to: one antique lamp, a custom silk throw pillow, a vinyl plush rug, an original signed vinyl of Fleetwood Mac and my favourite wine bottle."

Their eyes met and held from across the island. One was confused. The other passive. Slowly, Isabella's eyes lowered to the list in front of her. 

I destroyed all these? When? How? 

She looked around the kitchen and sitting room. Everything was pristine. And in place. "How—?"

"I had them replaced," Harry answered. "And that is how much they amount to," he nodded at the list in Isabella's hands. 

Isabella blinked at the total amount at the bottom of the list. "You're kidding me."

"Trust me," he said. "I wish I were."

Isabella's arms crossed over her chest. "How sure am I that you aren't trying to swindle me blind?" 

She noticed the way Agnes eyes snapped to her, like she was saying the unthinkable. Few seconds later, an Ipad slid across the counter towards her, a video playing on it. And yes, she was saying the unthinkable. Right there she was in the video, going on a rampage and blabbering about some cosmic pole whatever while at it. Isabella couldn't raise her head from the iPad. 

Now I get the wish that the ground would open up and swallow me moments I read in books. This is so embarrassing! Did he really watch this video? My reputation! Wait. Why do I care how he sees me? He can go to hell for all I care. Where was María when I was being such a menace?

She looked up at him. "Um... yeah. I'll pay you back."

"Damn right you will."

Petty Jerk!

Their eyes locked and the air between them crackled with unspoken tension. Isabella glanced down at the list again. She paused. She brought the list closer to her face. 

"Wait – this wine... five hundred thousand dollars? Are you joking?"

Harry took a sip from his cup. "1992 Screaming Eagle. Napa Valley. My favorite. Only about 175 cases were made, it-"

Isabella tilted her head to the side, staring at him with a mixture of incredulity and disbelief. "I didn't ask," she deadpanned. "You need therapy. Who even names a wine Screaming Eagle?!"

Harry gave a tight smirk. "Trust me, you need that more than I would. I knew you liked attention, Montez but whoring yourself out on a stripper pole? That's a new low."

Isabella's breath caught. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

He lowered his cup onto the coffee table and turned away. "You're not just reckless. You're predictable."

Isabella stiffened, her fingers tightening around the paper. 

You are reckless, Isabella. When will you grow up?.... 

You're the heir to my vast organization, and I won't have your silliness and stupidity ruin all that I've built. 

"What the hell is your problem?" she snapped. "You don't even know me."

"I know enough," Harry muttered without turning.

She didn't miss the flicker in his eyes. Not quite disgust. Not quite detachment. Something more. Something complicated. At the same time all she saw was someone else who judged her without getting to know her. Someone else who piled their outrageous standards and expectations on her shoulders, and expected her to live up to them. She clenched the paper in her hand, jaw tight. "Well, you can add another thing to the bill – your attitude."

She stormed off, stomping up the stairs to María's room. And Harry... stared after her, a beat longer than necessary.

******

"There you are, I was-"

María was cut off by the slamming of the door behind Isabella. The look on her face spoke volumes. "I swear, I should have reached for a knife and stabbed your stupid brother in his smug, expensive, funeral-wear-worshiping chest!" 

María's jolted back, startled by the sudden lash-out. Her confused eyes followed Isabella as she paced the length of the room. "What's—" 

"I've never met anyone so annoying, stuck-up, petty and so emotionally unintelligent. Actually no, not just that—." Isabella ticked off each point on her fingers. "—he has zero IQ, EQ, SQ—." she paused, turned to María. "—What are the other ones?" 

María pinched the bridge of her nose to keep from bursting into laughter. She shrugged. "I've no idea, Isa. I do know about IQ and EQ, and you're the one ranting them off, so do them justice." She bit down on her lower lip. "Besides are you sure he's the only one you've met that has all that? I mean, you had a lot to say about the kids in college." 

Isabella gave her a look. "Seriously?"

"Okay. Okay. What did my brother do this time?"

Isabella began pacing again. "The question is, what didn't he do?" She threw the paper on the bed beside María. "That is supposedly a—" Air quotations. "—damage list. I—." She put a hand forward as if telling María to wait for it. She snatched the paper up before María would have had a good look at it. She squinted at it, brought it closer to her face and gasped. She took a dramatic step back as if the amount had physically slapped her across the face.

She straightened, squared her shoulders, cleared her throat like she was about to recite Macbeth in the Globe Theatre and in the thickest, most dramatic Scottish accent she could muster, she declared: "FIVE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS?! For a bottle of wine?!"

She staggered back a step, clutching the paper to her chest as if it were a mortal wound. Her eyes widened, voice rising to operatic heights. "Och aye, 'tis not a bottle o' wine, 'tis LIQUID GOLD! Aye, surely 'tis the elixir of the gods-pressed from grapes kissed by unicorns under a Highland moon!"

She spun toward María, who rather than being surprised, had a hand pressed firmly over her mouth. Still, chuckles escaped them. Isabella gave her a don't you dare look. "Och, this is nae laughin' matter, Mar! Ah'm tryin' tae get ma heid round it; did I... did I smash the Holy Grail and no' ken it?! Did I shatter the last drink o' William Wallace himself?!"

Isabella pointed at the list like it was a murder weapon. "You're tellin' me I — me —wasted a bottle worth half a million? What was it? Blessed by the Pope? Aged in barrels made from Thor's hammer?"

A beat. She sat beside a giggling María, then in perfect, casual English: "Nah. I still stand by my words, Therapy. Immediately." 

María took the list from her. Her brows knotted the further she read. "Did Harry really give you this?" 

Isabella scoffed. " That's the least of it. By the way, what freaking age was last night? Sixteen? Because allegedly, I was dancing on a stripper pole like I was auditioning for Magic Montez!"

Was I really? I can't remember anything after I took those death potions from that damn bartender! 

María's brows furrowed further. "Wait – what?! You danced on a stripper pole? I thought you went for more shots and came back to the dance floor, I... I don't..."

"Well. Your BROther said I was whoring myself away on a stripper pole last night!" Isabella threw her hands into the air. "Me! Apparently rather than going crazy together as planned, I went berserk on my own!" 

María was silent. She stared down at the paper in her hands as if it would give her answers. Isabella huffed beside her. "Do you know what he called me? Reckless. Predictable. He sounded just like... like my father."

María took Isabella's hands. " You're clearly still on edge. And... and, we both were out of it last night, so we don't really know what happened. Just go take a quick shower. Breathe. Don't overthink, okay? I'll go talk to my brother."

Isabella's face squeezed up like she had just tasted a sour orange. "Nahh. I don't think that's a good idea. I don't want it looking like I'm some kid reporting her bully to her Mami, Mar. Let him be. We can just check the CCTV at the venue, it's as simple as that." 

"And I'm pretty sure Harry already has all those," María countered. 

"Huh?"

"Just let me talk to him. Trust me, it will make dealing with all these faster and easier." 

"Fine. I'm going to freshen up then." Isabella made her way to the bathroom but spun around suddenly. "Mar?" 

María paused on her way to the door. "Yes?"

"P.S. — I didn't tell you nada, you just discovered the damage list while I was bathing." She sent a sweet smile towards María. (Nothing)

"Seriously?" 

"Seriously. Shu. Off you go."