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 atme 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 ishandsome.
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.
∞∞∞
Chapter 9 ~ Alexander
Stillness permeated the air as we entered the dining room.
Hushed little groups scrutinized us with their piercing eyes, studying our progress. My brothers are in the far corner, drinks in hand, their bodies becoming taut with nervous tension. Sebastian studies Isabella, roaming over her form, quickly scanning her looking for further harm than the last time he saw her.
Christopher is thoroughly attuned to my facial features, trying to gauge if my anger had pacified somewhat since the situation that had unfolded in the sitting room. I had, somewhat, but I am still pissed as I walk Isabella closer to greet my parents, but I am slowly losing sight of what exactly it is I am angry with.
Is it still her to a degree? I don’t like being told "no" by anyone. Was it my brother's intervention on her behalf or the underlying current of attraction I felt in the bathroom as I felt her pulse quicken under my hand, her breath on my lips that haven't kissed a woman in years?
This whole day has been a cluster fuck since I woke up. It's amazing how your life can get so screwed up in one day.
I notice Rebekah shifting slightly, still the little glimmering goddess. She stands just behind her parents, looking at us with a slight disappointment as if she had anticipated finding my entrance a solitary one.
