I looked out the window, watching my family home as we pulled away. I had no idea where we were going or who I was going with. The only thing that I knew about my future husband was that his name was Mr. Cullen, which, in my opinion was too formal for someone you were supposed to marry.
Mr. Cullen hadn't even bothered introducing me to his men when we got in his car. He had made no effort to make me feel more comfortable or put me at ease. I had already decided that I hated him.
"Give me your purse," he ordered, breaking the silence.
I clutched my purse to my chest and glared at him. "No." I didn't want him looking through my things. They were just that, my things, not his and I didn't want him touching them.
He didn't listen to my protests. He grabbed my purse and pried it from my hands. When I tried to grab it back, he held it out of my reach, like it was some sort of game.
"It's mine, give it back!" I demanded. "You have no right to go touch my things."
He acted as if I hadn't even spoken. He opened my bag and began to look through it, pulling out my gun. "Marcus, here," he said, tossing it to the man in the passenger seat, who also happened to be the man who saw me climb out the window.
"You have no right to take that," I protested. "That's mine. I need it for protection."
"I'll provide you with all the protection you could ever need Isabella, but I will give it back to you when I feel that I can trust you not to try and use it on me." I shook my head at his suggestion. I would never have used it on him… I don't think, maybe… if he pissed me off.
He pulled out my cell next. He didn't even bat an eyelid as he lowered the window and tossed it out onto the road.
"Are you out of your fucking mind!?" I yelled, looking out the back window, just in time to see a car drive over the phone and crush it.
"I'll get you another one when we get to Detroit."
"I don't want another one. I wanted that one. It had all my contacts in it, my pictures, and my memories."
"You're starting a new life, Isabella, you won't need those contacts."
"Yeah!? What about the pictures?"
He never answered. He took out my credit cards next and started snapping them in his hands. I grabbed his arm, trying to stop him, but he managed to somehow hold me out the way with his elbow.
"I hate you," I sobbed. "Did you force my father to make me marry you just so you could destroy my life?"
"I never forced anyone into anything, Isabella, and I am doing this for your own protection. You need to leave your old life behind. You'll be provided with new cards once we get home."
"I don't have a home!" I spat.
"I'm sorry that you feel that way."
When he was done with my purse, he offered it back to me. I clung onto it as I looked out the window, silently crying for the life that I used to have.
We arrived at the airport twenty minutes later. A private jet was sitting on the tarmac waiting for us. Mr. Cullen said nothing as he got out of the car and waited by the door for me to join him. I climbed out and quietly followed him into the aircraft, his two men bringing up the rear.
"There is a bedroom at the back if you want to go and lie down," he stated, taking a seat.
I wondered if he was trying to tell me to get out of his sight. I wasn't sure, but I never went to that room anyway. I didn't feel comfortable lying down with strange men so close to me. Anything could have happened to me and I no longer had my gun for protection.
I sat down in the furthest seat from Mr. I'm-too-good-to-share-my-first-name. Thankfully, it faced away from him, towards the back of the plane, so I didn't need to look at any of them.
"I don't think your new wife likes you," one of the men joked. It was the first time that I had heard any of them talk.
Mr. Cullen sighed. "I'm sure she'll get over it, eventually."
"Don't count on it," I muttered, so that only I could hear.
.
~TTTB~
.
We landed in Detroit two painful hours later. As the plane came to a standstill the realization of what was happening hit me and before I knew it, I was running for the restroom, regurgitating the contents of my in-flight meal.
"Are you okay?" I looked up to see Mr. Cullen standing over me. In my rush to the restroom, I must have forgotten to close the door, either that or he had just let himself in.
"I'm just peachy," I said, scowling up at him.
"Well, peaches, it's time to go," he said, offering me his hand.
I ignored it and got to my feet on my own, making my way to the faucet and splashing water on my face. I looked at my reflection in the mirror, trying to give myself a silent pep talk, telling myself that I could handle this. Though if I was honest, I wasn't sure that I could and he certainly wasn't making things any easier for me.
"The car's waiting," Mr. Cullen said, after several minutes.
"I'm coming," I said, glaring at him. I didn't understand why he had to be so pushy. Didn't he have one single bit of empathy in his body? Couldn't he see how hard this was for me, that my world had been torn apart? Or was it that he just simply didn't care?
I walked past him and headed to the front of the plane. His two men were standing by the door waiting. They walked out first and I followed them to the car with Mr. Cullen right behind me. I wondered if he always traveled like this, with so much security or perhaps he was afraid I would try to run again. Yeah, that was probably it.
"You know, this marriage doesn't need to be as bad as you're imagining it, Isabella. You just need to give it a chance," he said, once we were seated in the car and making our way to our destination.
"Are you sure about that Mr. Cullen?" I asked. I couldn't believe that he was preaching to me about giving him a chance when he hadn't even had the decency to give me his first name. What an asshole.
"I'm sorry," he said, the realization of my words donning on him. "I had forgotten that we hadn't been properly introduced with… everything that happened. Please, call me Edward."
I nodded, but never replied. I actually never spoke a word again to him until we arrived at the gates of a large house which was illuminated with spotlights, though hard to see because of the surrounding trees. "Is this your house?" I asked, looking out the window, trying to get a better view of the house.
"Our house," Edward corrected.
The guard let us through the gates and I watched as the house as it came into view. It was huge, but then I wasn't really surprised about that fact. The front door had a large archway feature, with several steps leading up to it and shrubs on either side. It was beautiful, and there were so many windows, that I knew it had to be light and airy inside.
"What do you think?" Edward asked, gauging my reaction.
I shrugged, acting indifferent. "It's okay."
He laughed, his entire face lighting up, making him look even more handsome than he did before. I scowled at myself for thinking such thoughts, reminding myself that he was the reason I was in this car and not at home with my family.
"Come, I'll show you around."
The inside of the house was like a Tardis. Downstairs there were at least four sitting rooms, two kitchens and several dining areas. Edward said that he hosted a lot, which I found funny, he didn't seem the hosting type. The upstairs landing overlooked most of the rooms downstairs, which lead me to believe that there wasn't a lot of privacy in this house. That didn't sit well with me, as I was certainly someone that valued their privacy.
Upstairs there was five bedrooms, all with large en suites. The master bedroom, Edward's room, was huge. More floor space than he could ever use. It seemed like a waste to me. My room was right next door to his. Okay, so I figured he chosen it so that he could keep an eye on me, but I was just grateful that he didn't actually expect me to share a bed with him.
"I'll let you get settled in," he said, sitting my bag on the bed. "I'll just be next door if you need me."
I nodded, but never made any other attempts to answer him. I watched him leave, before I turned to investigate my room. It wasn't big. Given the size of the house, you would expect it to be better, but it wasn't. It did, however, have everything I needed. A large four poster bed that I could get lost in, a walk-in closet with built-in drawers, and an en suite of course. It even had its own set of French doors that led out onto a balcony. Sadly, that balcony was connected to Edward's room.
I came back in and locked the doors, sitting down on the bed and staring at myself in the long mirror that hung above the dresser. I didn't know what to make of this situation, of Edward. I hadn't even seen it coming. I didn't understand why my parents hadn't warned me or prepared me.
I could only assume that Edward held something over them, but then, he said that he hadn't forced anyone into anything, which didn't make any sense. If he was telling the truth, then that meant my parents wanted this, but why? Why did they want me out of that house so suddenly?