Chapter 4. They Go Low, Then You Go Lower

Jane had slept over that night but rushed off in the morning around 4 a.m., rattling on about some early appointments and how she needed to look like she fell from heaven. It was too early in the day for Isabella, so she mumbled something incoherent before dozing off again.

When it was finally dawn, Isabella woke up to sunlight streaming from the open curtain. Jane must have left it open as a wake-up message. Walking into the kitchen, Isabella began to arrange the ingredients needed to prepare pancakes but was interrupted by a maid.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but that’s my job,” she said while wringing her fingers.

Isabella raised an inquisitive brow at the intrusion, “You are?”

“Dorothy, ma’am. The maid,” she introduced.

“Oh. I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware that there was help. I’m Isabella.”

“It’s nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“You can call me Isabella, Dorothy,” Isabella insisted. “That’s an order.”

“Sure,” Dorothy smiled shyly.

“I’m making pancakes. You can lend a hand if you wish.”

They got to work focusing on the task at hand. Isabella made just enough to sustain herself, Dorothy, and a certain someone who shall not be named. The task made them talk about anything Isabella could think of at the spot until breakfast was ready.

Stacking the pancakes one on the other, they brought out a bottle of honey and maple syrup. Without hesitation, Isabella dished out hers before filling a tall glass of orange juice.

“Dorothy, you should try this. It’s delicious,” Isabella said after taking her first bite.

“I’ll eat later, ma’am,” a glare from Isabella had her correcting herself. “I mean, Isabella.”

Alexander walked in, wearing shorts and a white singlet. The shirt clung to every rip on his stomach and accentuated his muscles. Drool-worthy.

Without so much as a good morning to anyone, he headed straight to the kitchen island before settling himself on a bench a few feet away from where Isabella was sitting.

“Two pancakes with honey and a glass of orange juice will do,” he ordered Dorothy. “Get me some blueberries, too.”

Isabella stuffed her mouth with more than half of a pancake to keep her comments at bay, but she swallowed it quickly before beginning.

“A good morning before you begin ordering people around would go a long way, Mr. Rude.”

Alex pushed his plate closer to him before biting off a piece.

“Hell,” she waved in his face. “I’m talking to you.”

“Isn’t it obvious that I’m not in the mood for crazy today?” he finally answered, his head still buried in his food.

“Did this…” Isabella searched herself for a word but came up short, “…creature just call me crazy?” Isabella asked Dorothy, who had a deer-caught-in-headlights expression.

“I…” she tried saying but was cut off by Isabella.

“You are a rude, conceited piece of shit. And I swear I will…”

“Shut up,” Alexander said so calmly that Isabella found herself searching for anything that would actively express the right amount of anger she was feeling.

Her eyes caught the last pancake on her plate, now bathed in honey. Without thinking, she lifted the pancake, holding it delicately between her fingers before throwing it smack dab right in the middle of his face.

Alexander was taken off guard by her audaciousness, but as he pried the honey-bathed pancake from his face, his eyes rested on a different Isabella, who sat smiling on the kitchen island like she hadn’t just hurled something at his face.

“What on earth is wrong with you?” Alexander found himself asking, surprised at his calm tone, but underneath lay an unfiltered rage.

“I have no idea what you may possibly mean,” Isabella batted her eyelashes in mock innocence. As though seeing his face for the first time, she gasped in unbelief; her hand flew to her chest. “What in heaven’s name happened to you?” she asked.

Finding it highly unnecessary to grace her with an answer, he tightly shut his eyes, taking calm breaths. Standing up, he passed Isabella the most intimidating stink eye he could harness, with honey dripping down his face.

Alexander had witnessed the entire episode of the she-devil’s kindness to the maid, Dorothy, and that made him wonder if he had misjudged her.

But Alexander had never been so glad to be wrong than at that moment when she threw a pancake directly at his face.

Grunting in annoyance, he took a shower, washing off the honey before dressing for work, a permanent scowl etched on his face.

“Going to work, sweetie?” Isabella’s voice rose when she sighted him leaving.

Devil.

***

“Here’s the latest married man in town,” James chuckled immediately when Alexander stepped out of the elevator.

“Don’t you have an office?” Alexander sighed, shutting the private elevator.

“Yours is more comfortable,” James swiveled on the chair.

“You’re my best friend but also my manager. Get out,” he pushed his chair, settling on it.

“The married man isn’t a jolly fellow this beautiful morning,” his friend pointed out with a smirk.

“She’s a crazy person. With that glint of mischief always in her eyes.”

“Should I ask?”

“She threw a pancake in my face, and for what? Because I didn’t say good morning.”

The pristine office was coated in silence after Alexander’s short rant, but the silence was soon disturbed by the deep laughter of James. He clutched at his sides, doubling over.

“Please, laugh it all out,” Alexander gave him a blank look.

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry,” he wiped off a tear. “That bad?”

“It’s like she is desperate for some reaction. That woman is certifiably missing a knot.”

“So, you’ll just endure it?” James asked, suppressing another bout of laughter.

“What do you expect me to do? She’s childish, and I won’t stoop to her level,” Alexander tried convincing James, but the questioning look his friend sent him made him stop.

“Anyways,” James got up from the chair. “I’ve got files to sort.” His hand rested on the doorknob before he addressed Alexander. “I’m not a bad friend or anything, but if they go low, then you go lower.”