Chapter 5. She-Devil

Isabella hummed a low, happy tune under her breath as she brushed her teeth. There was no specific reason for her happiness; it was just one of those days when the sun was smiling, the breeze caressed her cheeks, and the grass tickled her feet.

Now, she was just being poetic. But in summary, it was a good day.

Until Alexander ruined it.

Isabella finished brushing her teeth, returned the toothbrush to its holder, and stripped off her clothes for a warm, relaxing bath. She had a bounce to her step, swaying slightly to unheard music as she shut the door behind her. In a moment of indecision, she opted for a shower instead, deciding to leave the bath for after she returned from work.

Picking up the strawberry-scented shampoo near the mirror, she lathered it on her hair, taking an extra generous amount due to her happy mood. Picking up the shower cap, she stuffed her hair in it, as the instructions were to let the hair sit for a few minutes. Isabella used the extra time to take a quick shower, finally releasing her hair.

The water fell on her body in quick, fat droplets, making the tense muscles relax and the sleep residue clear. After stepping out, she used the top towel to wrap around her hair and the other one around her body.

“I need some music,” Isabella spoke to no one in particular. Stopping by the bedside where her phone lay face down, she scrolled through her list of songs, her fingers hovering over an upbeat tune as she pressed play. The funky music began, making her move her body as much as she could to the rhythm. Humming along with the song and belting out the lyrics in her favorite parts, she slathered lotion on her body.

Throwing on a cute summer dress with wedge sandals, she finally let her hair loose. The sight in the mirror had her screaming louder than the music.

“Oh my God, oh dear goodness,” she panicked aloud, pacing around the room and returning to the mirror to check, just in case she was hallucinating. It was the same every single time. Her once luscious sunset gold hair was now a flaming red.

Red was the right color to describe how livid she was. There could only be one person who did this. Alexander.

Rushing down the stairs, she searched for the audacious bastard, but he was suddenly missing. The kitchen—empty. The sitting room—empty. His study—empty. Each room that didn’t have an Alexander in it only made Isabella grow more angry. His room was the last place to check, so she basically burst through his door, and there he sat, right on his bed, a laptop sitting at his side.

If one thing further infuriated Isabella, it had to be how much he showed little to no emotion. Take, for instance, the fact that an angry lady with red hair burst through his doors, pinning him with a deathly glare that was scary enough to emotionally rattle a man, yet the great Alexander never even bothered to look up from his files.

“Alexander,” Isabella managed to grit out, suppressing the urge to grab him by the throat and squeeze tightly.

Alexander took his God-given time to look up so slowly that Isabella wondered if they were being played in slow motion.

“Good morning, Isabella,” he greeted with the best poker face she had ever seen. After a pause, he added, “Nice hair.”

A flare of anger shot through her if that was physically possible. “Nice hair?” she asked incredulously, almost on the verge of hysteria. “That’s all you have to say? Nice hair?”

“Yes. Nice hair,” he answered calmly. “It suits your she-devil personality,” he shrugged in nonchalance. “Now, the outfit is completed.”

“What did you do to my hair?” she asked angrily. “What the actual fu…”

“Spare me the dramatics,” Alexander cut off her ranting. “Now, you can hold a pitchfork, and no one would really care because they can see the entire picture.”

“I…” Isabella grasped for words, but they seemed to have fled really far away from her. “I swear on everything relatively normal that I will make your life so miserable.”

She could hear the rush of the blood pumping from her crazily beating heart, blocking off the noise of her surroundings and filling her with the consistent humming of blood.

“Go away, I’m busy.”

His eyes left hers, focusing on the laptop screen. Isabella stood there for a while, flaming red hair and all, before walking back to her room.

Yes, she was known for her dramatic nature, but no one had riled her up so much as Alexander did in a few hours.

As she pulled open her room’s door, the muffled music playing from her phone spilled into the hallway.

So much for a happy morning.

Isabella was still pacing around her room in anger after she had texted Jane. It was taking hours for her to text back, call, or even show up. Knowing the lengths to which blind rage could take her, Isabella had tightly bolted the door and stuffed the key under her pillow, just as a precaution against ramming Alexander’s head in with a bat.

A soft knock on the door had her whimpering in thanks to the universe. She fished the key from under her pillow, inserting it into the lock before hearing the familiar click. Jane barged in, dressed as usual in a new clothing line that was still about to be launched.

For a second, Isabella was tempted to ask Jane how she had gotten hold of the outfit but decided against it. This was her moment, and she definitely wouldn’t allow herself to be distracted.

The rage was good.

“I came as soon as I could leave the photoshoot,” Jane dropped her designer’s bag on the vanity mirror. “What did Alex do this time?” she placed a delicate hand on her waist.

Watching the infuriated look on her face, she backpedaled. “My baby is mad, isn’t she?” Jane opened her arms wide as Isabella stepped into them, engulfing her friend in a safe place.

“I hate him so much, I really do,” she poured every ounce of anger she could feel into those words.

“Do you want my signature hot chocolate?” Jane asked. Ever since they were teens, Jane would make her hot chocolate during the sad and rainy days. They always made Isabella feel better.

Isabella nodded in agreement. “Yes, please.”

They walked quietly downstairs to the kitchen; Jane still held onto her hand, probably scared that she would burst due to the anger coursing through her veins. Isabella wasn’t scared of running into Alexander because she knew that he was still out. It was only seven in the evening.

Jane worked her way around the kitchen, picking up all she needed, and in the next three minutes, a white mug filled with hot chocolate was placed in front of a frowning Isabella.

“Thanks,” she sulkily replied, taking the first sip. The familiar warmth of the hot chocolate pooled in her belly.

“I think I’ve at least earned the right to know what is wrong,” Jane observed Isabella closely. “Your message was unclear, but I knew something happened.”

Isabella forced herself to talk, narrating the upsetting incident to Jane.

“He apparently poured red hair dye into my shampoo,” she grumbled out. “I mean, I haven’t been particularly bad to him. He called me a she-devil, can you imagine? I’m a freaking ray of sunshine, aren’t I?” she turned to her friend Jane for support.

“Yes. You’re amazing; he just doesn’t see it,” she rubbed Isabella’s back. “You’ve washed off the dye?” she asked, noticing the scarf wrapped around Isabella’s hair for the first time. “Why is it still tied?”

“I haven’t changed it yet. I couldn’t do it all by myself,” she sighed; the mug holding the hot chocolate was almost emptied by now.

“Can I see?” Jane asked cautiously.

“Swear you won’t laugh?” she asked with a knowing look.

“Scout’s honor.”

Isabella untied the knot of the scarf, letting the mass of red hair fall in waves almost to her waist.

Jane clapped a hand around her mouth, preventing herself from bursting into laughter. The livid look on her friend’s face, paired with the red hair, did make her look like a she-devil on a mission.

Isabella threw her a stink eye.

“I promise, I’m not laughing,” Jane spoke through her covered mouth, the sound muffled.

“You can laugh if you want; I can’t have you bursting out in laughter at an inappropriate time.”

That gave Jane the permission she needed to laugh to her fill. She clutched her stomach, almost doubling over from the stool.

Isabella found the laughter contagious, and soon, the both of them were in tears.

“It is funny,” Isabella rolled her eyes after the laughter had died down.

“So, what’s the plan for payback?”