Promised to a Petrov

Chapter 13

The warmth of the sun hit my face, bringing light to me even as my eyes are still shut. I could feel it's warmth all around me, and I have to admit, it reminded me of the days I spend on the beach. It would be relaxing except there was the pounding in my head and the reminder of what I had done last night raging.

I open my eyes and peak around the room, however it was bare.

My face buried into Isiah's pillows, or should I say ours, as I rolled over. His scent was like a tidal wave invading my nose, the fabric soaked in his scent. I had no idea how to even describe it, it smelt more woodsy, nothing like the rich and expensive smell my father, my brother, or even I had ever wore.

I bring myself to sit up, I groan leaving me as I felt my back crack when I leaned over in a hunching position. I scratch my head, dragging them across my face and bury them into my palms.

For fucks sake.

I felt as if my entire head was throbbing, like physically moving, pain shooting through me.

I could never handle hard liquor, and I was quite the light weight but hell if I cared. When I wanted a drink, I was going to get me a drink.

I slide off the bed, my hand massaging at my temple as I make my way to the bathroom.

Just when I think being hungover is my biggest problem, it gets worse when I see the his and her sink.

I would have to live my life with him, he would be there every waking moment in some way shape or form and there was no plan. At this very moment, I see two faucets, one side with a hair jell sitting out in the open next to his toothbrush, the other, just a toothbrush. I wasn't one to assume and yet I was one to jump to conclusions. Does that make sense?

The question filtering through my head was 'is it supposed to be mine?'

I pull the drawers below open and I hum, not truly wanting to let myself acknowledge that I was about to wreck havoc to this bathroom if a tooth brush was present and my personal items were not.

I mean, if my things are here and a toothbrush is on my side, it means its mine. Right?

I hate this, it would be easier to not be sharing a room with him, a toothbrush in my own room would obviously be mine.

Being real, he would never belong to me the way that I belong to him. I am his wife, a person that will always be identified as his woman. Isiah Petrov? he is Isiah Petrov, his own person, a boss, a feared man, a lord in a way. He is not introduced as a husband.

I get myself ready for the day, trying to sperate the part of my brain that is working a million miles per hour, from myself. I try to leave my overthinking habits in the bathroom, with my drawer of makeup and moisturizers. At least with it there I would have a clear mind.

I walk downstairs fully intending to get out while I can but I hear the sizzle of food in a pan and I smell the unmistakable smell of sausages floating through the house.

I walk down the hall and slowly peak my head in.

I expected to see a maid cooking but instead I see Isiah. My stomach turned at the sight, he plops what looks like liver into a bowl and goes to pick up the tonges. I didn't think much of it until he turns around as if he was about to flip the breakfast meat over.

Paws scratch the hardwood floor as Dasha comes whipping around the kitchen island and running around me. He lets out a little bark, nothing threating, just filled with excitement, his tail wagging.

Isiah turned around, taking in my dressy outfit. I take this moment to point at the liver in the dog bowl.

"I think you should wash your hands before going near that food" He looks back to the pan with his hand on the tongs, then he looks back at me before placing those same tongs down. He walks to the sink, looking at me after he slathers soap on his hands.