Chapter 4 Iseolde. Let's go.

Isolde's POV

The door to the room suddenly swung open, and I lifted my gaze slowly-only to be struck by the sight before me. It was Vlad Montgomery, my mother's man, the same man who had appeared in my dream in a way I couldn't forget.

"What do you want from me at this hour?" I asked with a hint of irritation, still unsettled by the dream that had left me anxious and on edge.

He stood there, staring at me intensely, as if engraving my features into his memory. I frowned in confusion, intending to ask him the same question.

"You're naked, little one."

My eyes widened in shock, and I darted my gaze around the room, searching for something to cover myself with. But he was quicker-grabbing the blanket beside him and stepping toward me.

I wrapped my arms tightly around myself, burying my face between my knees as my cheeks burned with embarrassment.

"Not completely naked-you're still wearing the two pieces."

He draped the blanket over me gently, but I pushed his hand away and glared at him. Two pieces? The audacity! Who did he think he was to speak to me like that, as if I had no sense of shame?

"Forget what you just saw, Mr. Vlad. If you would, please. This is both embarrassing and inappropriate."

He withdrew calmly and stated with unwavering seriousness, "I came to invite you to breakfast."

I stared at him, utterly baffled-his sudden change of subject was entirely out of place.

"What?"

He responded coolly as he turned to leave, his broad, imposing back now facing me. Oh, God... why was I still admiring him despite everything?

"I answered your question. Or did you forget?"

I shook my head quickly, feeling a sharp twinge in my neck. "No, I didn't forget. You can go ahead. I'll be down shortly."

He ignored my words and shut the door behind him, leaving me to wrestle with my own embarrassment. I was as red as a damned tomato!

As soon as he left, I dragged myself out of bed, took a quick shower, and dried my hair. I slipped into a striped T-shirt and a short black skirt, letting my dark locks cascade freely down my back before finally heading downstairs.

---

"I'm busy, Vivian. You know I have no interest in wasting my time on such trivial matters."

I froze in shock at the foot of the stairs. His cold tone toward my mother was completely uncalled for. He was hurting her feelings, while she spoke to him with nothing but warmth and sincerity.

"Trivial? Are you serious, Mr. Vlad?"

I spoke up confidently, ignoring my mother's silent pleas and the warning glances from Mary, urging me to stay quiet. But I didn't care-his words were infuriating.

"Going on a picnic with the woman who is supposed to be your wife is hardly trivial, as you just put it!"

Vlad didn't pause from eating, his gaze fixed on his plate, brow furrowed in deep thought.

"So that's how it is, Miss Isolde."

His voice was rough, and I stepped closer, my stance bolder now. This wasn't just about defending my mother-it was also about silencing the nagging guilt that had haunted me since my strange dream.

"It's alright, sweetheart," my mother interjected, her voice gentle. "He's busy, and his work is complicated. It's hard for him to make time."

I turned to her in disbelief, my brows furrowing in frustration. "But you're his wife! You have every right to demand his time and hold him accountable for neglecting you because of his damned work! At the end of the day, work doesn't last forever."

The sharp clatter of his fork against the plate made me jump slightly. The sound of his steady, angry breaths sent a shiver through me, but I held my ground.

"You're overstepping, little one, aren't you?"

I pulled out a chair beside my mother and sat down firmly. Then, as if to prove his words didn't affect me, I reached for a black olive-my favorite-and popped it into my mouth with deliberate ease.

"I wasn't aware you had boundaries to begin with."

My mother gripped my arm and whispered urgently, "That's enough, Isolde. He gets angry easily."

I pulled my arm free and took a sip of juice-but I barely swallowed before Vlad abruptly stood, radiating unmistakable irritation. I refused to meet his gaze, but I could feel the weight of it piercing through me.

"For the record, little one, I heard your obnoxious snoring on Monday night."

I gasped in shock, nearly choking as the juice spilled from my lips. My mother hurriedly grabbed a cloth napkin, dabbing at my mouth and the front of my T-shirt before moving lower to my bare thighs.

"Wait-!"

I stared at her in embarrassment before snapping my focus back to Vlad, who was watching me with an infuriatingly amused expression.

"What? Cat got your tongue?"

I growled under my breath, realizing he was only teasing my mother because of me.

"Don't take your anger out on my mother, Mr. Vlad. I'm the one who asked her not to tell you. I found out she fears you when you're angry... or when she knows there's a lie being kept from you. So, hold me accountable. Be angry with me."

He studied me in silence before adjusting his tie with calculated ease. Then, without warning, he stepped toward me, stopping right at my side. He leaned in slightly, resting his hands firmly on the table.

"My punishment is severe, little one. You don't know me well enough."

His warm breath grazed my neck, sending a sharp wave of tension through me. I dared not lift my head to meet his gaze.

"It's alright, Vlad. I'll talk to her. You're running late-you should head to work."

My mother straightened swiftly, walking past him before reaching for my hand gently.

"Come, Isolde. Let's go."

At that moment, as I rose to my feet, our eyes met-oh, dear God! His dark irises blazed with fury, deep and consuming, like the infernos of hell. I walked past him, feigning composure, but the hurried pace of my steps betrayed me.

"Have you lost your mind? That was incredibly rude-don't do it again!"

I was sitting in the backyard with Marie, my patience wearing thin as she continued her relentless scolding.

"You're right-he does seem cold and controlling. But that's none of our business, is it? Whatever happens between him and my mother is their concern. We should respect their privacy."

My expression darkened as an image from my dream suddenly flashed through my mind. I needed to change the subject-fast.

"I had an erotic dream this morning, Marie."

She gasped, covering her mouth with both hands.

"With your future stepfather?!" she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of shock and excitement. "Tell me you're joking!"

Realizing the weight of my words, I shook my head frantically.

"Of course not! It was with someone else-someone I've never seen before!"

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously and leaned in to whisper, "You're touch-starved, Isolde. You crave a real experience, don't you?"

Her words seeped into my thoughts, and before I could stop myself, the image of my mother's fiancé slipped into the depths of my corrupted mind.

Maybe, Marie.

Snapping me out of my trance, she gave me a light smack on the back before teasing:

"Haven't you had enough of London's charming men?"

I sighed, shaking my head in defeat.

"I was busy studying. I'm not what you think I am."

She pouted dramatically, as if about to pity me. I loathed being pitied.

"Then date an Asian guy and marry him in a matter of months."

I stood up, exasperated.

"I have no time for dating."

Ignoring her continued chatter, I made my way inside at a slow pace. Just as I reached the grand hall near the main entrance, I ran into my mother.

"I was looking for you, Isolde. Where have you been?"

Her voice carried a hint of worry as I stepped closer.

"I was outside with Marie. I just decided to come in."

Then, with a touch of regret, I lowered my gaze.

"About what happened earlier at breakfast-I want to apologize. My emotions got the best of me. I couldn't stand the way he treated you."

She let out a soft gasp before whispering,

"He wasn't harsh with me. What are you saying? That's just how he is-I'm used to it."

I sighed in resignation.

"I'm not sure... but still, I'm sorry, Mother."

I instinctively turned when a deep, commanding voice resonated behind me-his voice.

He spoke my name with unwavering authority and sheer audacity...