Chapter 8 ~ Isabella #2
My heavy breathing is the only sound in the small room, that, and my rapidly beating heart as I try to get my body to do as he says.
Bang! The door rattles on its hinges as he slams his fist on it.
"I advised you to meet me at the dining room door. You failed to appear. I was forced to come and look for you. Hiding in the washroom is for children, Isabella. Keep acting like a child and I will treat you as such. Now. Open the door!!"
Oh God, Oh God.
I step closer to the door, and reaching out with a shaky hand, I grip the cold brass in my hand and turn.
As soon as the click echoes in the room, the door is flung open so fast that it bounces off the wall, Alexander's large palm stopping the rebound.
I yelp and jump, scampering back to the far wall by the toilet, wedging as much of myself behind it as best I can.
"There now, was that so difficult?" he says with a twisted smile. He steps in and closes the door, trapping me inside with him.
He lifts his arms; he adjusts his cuffs as he takes a small step toward me. A whimper escapes before I can stop it, and I shut my eyes again. I don't want to see what is coming; I do not want to look at him.
"Such a jumpy little bunny, aren't you?"
His deep voice vibrates in the room as he speaks. As he moves in closer, I can feel the heat radiating off his body. Turning my face closer to the wall away from him, clasping my hands close to my chest I stop breathing and listen for his movements.
A shiver breaks out in my body that I cannot control as I feel his finger run down the side of my temple to trail down my cheek, stopping at the base of my neck.
"I like seeing my marks on you," he says as his fingertip lightly presses on the stinging marks he left behind. "Such a timid little thing, so fragile"
The stubble on his cheek rasps against my skin as he moves his mouth closer to my ear. I feel his other hand rest lightly on my hip, making me jump at the unexpected touch. His fingers spread wide, stroking the silk with only the tips, like little cat claws digging into the ample flesh.
My heart beats faster in my chest and my breathing hitches in my throat as he presses the tip of his nose along the inner shell of my ear.
I almost want to lean my head into the sensation, but I know he is a monster, so I force myself to stay as still as possible.
He lowers his voice; "So little bunny? Are you ready to be a big girl and sit at the adult table? We have family waiting for us and you have wasted enough of everyone's time with your hysterics."
He runs the tip of his nose down my neck, stopping at the crease of my shoulder. His breath is warm as he speaks into my sensitive skin.
"I'm done with the games, Isabella. You will marry me, and you will be my wife. Very soon, mark my words."
I can feel his heat leaving my body as he pulls away. I whimper as he grabs my chin in his large hand, forcing my face away from the wall.
"Open your eyes."
I try to shake my head no, but he forces my head back tight to the wall.
"Open!" He roars, my ears ring and he gives my jaw a slight shake, and I do. My eyes popped open at the command, and I wished to God they hadn't.
Steel gray eyes filled with contempt permeate my vision as I watch them dart across my face.
His thick black eyebrows are pinched together, and his lips form a thin white line.
His nostrils are flared, and he's breathing heavily, puffing his warm breath on my lips.
A tear escapes from the crease of my eye, and he watches it as it trails down my cheek.
His hand leaves my hip and he uses his thumb to wipe it off my cheek.
Locking eyes with me once again, he brings the tip of his thumb to his mouth and sucks it off. A tremor starts in my knees and works its way up my entire body. By the time it reaches my shoulders, I am shaking so badly, my cheeks jiggle in his hand.
One eyebrow lifts and a leering smile spreads out over his lips, making his dimples appear in his stubble cheeks.
"Are you cold, bunny?" All I can do is nudge my head to one side in a nod.
"Then what has you trembling in my hand?"
Out of survival instinct, I raise both my hands to grab his thick wrist holding my chin, doing my best to pull my face free, but he is relentless in his grip and I pucker fish my answer. "Scared!"
My stomach rolls and I feel the need to pee again. For some reason, it feels degrading to answer this man who holds my life in the palm of his hand.
I close my eyes again as more tears leak out. A dark chuckle reverberates around the small room, and a little more of my soul diminishes at his mocking response to my anguish.
"Good."
He pushes off my face and I hit the wall with the back of my head. I raise my hand to rub the sting on my scalp, tilting my head down to look down at the floor. I focus on his shoes trying to distract myself from the pain and fear he instills in me.
Shiny black designer Italian loafers. I watch as they disappear from my vision, and I take a chance and look up slightly. He is fixing his tie in the mirror, chin up as he adjusts the knot at his neck.
Seeing me looking at him, he speaks to my reflection. "Clean up." As he looks me over in the mirror, he says, "I'll wait for you in the hall, can't have you hopping away from me again." He winks at me as he pushes away from the sink and walks out, closing the door behind him.
I let out a shaky breath, wrapping my arms tight around my stomach.
I bend at the waist to keep the anguish from spilling out.
I can't scream aloud or he will hear me.
I gulp in a lung full of air and hold it, letting the scream burn in the back of my throat as I try to fathom what is happening to my life.
I grab the towel off the side of the sink and hold it to my mouth to stifle the sobs that will not stop. I cannot marry this man. I won't survive, I know it.
My chest hurts from crying, and I rub my sternum, trying to alleviate the pain. I blow my nose and wash my hands. I look in the mirror and see the dishevelled mess Alexander so plainly loathes.
Why can't I find my voice? To yell back in his face when he held me against the wall. Why couldn’t I just say, to let me go? To shout back at him, telling him to shove the marriage up his butt and leave.
I blink at my reflection, Jesus; I am weak, just like Rebekah said. I am a waste, and Alexander sees it, just as I knew they all would.
"Tick-tock Isabella." Alexander's voice carries through the door.
I clear my throat, "Coming"
I tug my dress down and put the stray strands of hair back in place as best I can.
I open the door and Alexander is leaning against the other side of the hall, one foot braced up on the wall, looking at his phone, one hand shoved in his pocket.
He doesn't acknowledge my presence at all.
So, I take a few minutes to look at him instead of closing my eyes.
He looks so casual, like any other young man, keeping himself busy as he waits for his date while she makes herself pretty to meet his family. But this is not a date, so far from it. His features are softer now that he's not glowering at me, and he is handsome.
He is so totally out of my league that on my best day, I would never catch a man's eye that looked like him. I step into the hall and close the bathroom door. Not knowing what else to do with myself, I just stand there waiting for him to look up.
Pushing off the wall with his bent leg, he starts to walk down the hall, still looking at something on his phone.
"Come." He holds his hand out behind him.
Taking my queue, I quickly catch up to him, but I will not put my hand in his. I follow one step behind him. I do not want his touch ever again.
We reach the end of the hall, turning right to what I am assuming is the dining room entrance.
Alexander stops at the closed doors and turns his face to me.
He grabs my hand gently, then with a quick jerk, he puts it behind my back, slightly pulling it up to my shoulder blades, causing a sharp pain to snap in my shoulder.
I whimper and I bend slightly into him, trying to relieve some of the strain. He leans down to the side of my face and, with a voice filled with revulsion, says:
"If I offer you my hand, you take it! Never refuse what I offer you."
He gives my arm a little tug, making me wince. All at once, he lets go and fits my hand in the crook of his arm. With one hand on the door, he looks at me.
"Smile Isabella, it's showtime." He opens the door, leading me into the room full of people staring at us in silence.
And I do. I smile.