This is my version of how it could have gone for Rosalie, a character created by Stephanie Meyer.
Chapter 9: Travel
After several hours we finally landed in Arizona. None of the other passengers seemed to notice my distress or consider how odd it was for one woman and two men to be traveling together. But maybe it wasn't odd at all; perhaps it only felt that way to me.
We transferred our luggage to a waiting vehicle. An official-looking younger man in a black suit tailored to fit a chiseled physique was standing by the car. His gloved hands were crossed in front of him and he wore a pair of Foster Grant sunglasses. He was wearing a name-tag that said only 'Benton'. I am certain the other passengers regarded us as celebrity as they gawked at the shiny black car waiting for us. Royce is all about pretense.
Royce and Felix got into the back seat as the man in black opened the front passenger door for me. He then ran to the driver's side to get in and take us to our destination. For reasons unknown I felt safe with this stranger in the car with us. Even though he never looked at me or even regarded my presence I felt like Royce and Felix were somewhat stymied with a fourth party in the picture. I should have known there was a plan.
Benton looked in the rear view mirror. "Sir, I have been told to take you to dinner and then leave the vehicle with you. Is this correct?"
My shoulders slumped visibly. This went unnoticed by the very mechanical man in black. Felix noticed. He chortled from the seat directly behind me and my blood ran cold.
"That is correct my good man." Royce said taunting the man with his voice. "Where do you suggest we eat?"
If Benton even noticed Royce's disdain it did not register on him. "The Great Grand is a very good steak house."
"That would be fine."
The rest of the too-short trip was in total silence.
The man pulled up to the restaurant with the words 'Great Grand' emblazoned in script on the side of the building. Though it had the look of a log cabin, the valet service, the austere posts and entry as well as hundreds of suspended bright lights suggested a much more elegant setting. Benton closed the car door behind me and accepted the overly generous tip from Royce. Benton would remember the tip; he would never remember the faceless young woman in the front seat. Royce was diabolical.
We entered the building. It was a large dining room with maybe a dozen round tables sporting crisp white tablecloths with fine china, silver settings, and blood red roses as the centerpiece. Hysterical laughter developed in my throat as I looked at the flowers. A blood red rose on a virginal white cloth. The irony was horrifying.
With a flourish Royce took my jacket and genteelly put his hand on my elbow delicately leading me to our table. The Royce that could have been. The Royce that should have been. The man that was so sweetly handling me right now was only a façade. He was playing. And he was good at this game.
The other diners literally stared at us as we moved to our table. They saw a beautiful young woman being doted upon by an equally handsome young man. Their eyes swept our fingers searching for wedding bands. Simultaneously, or so it felt, you saw them react as they surmised they were viewing a lovely young couple beginning their lives together. I wonder what they thought of Felix. Bodyguard perhaps?
Soon the other guests were bored with the newcomers. They returned to their plates and their mindless chatter. Royce seated me first. As he gently pushed in my chair he clamped a hand down on my shoulder. I tried not to grimace. Felix liked it a little too much. Royce leaned into my neck. If anyone were still watching, I'm sure they were remembering their own wedding and the passion that followed.
But Royce wasn't being romantic. His warm breath caressed goose bumps from my skin that then slithered down my back. He gently tipped my chin up and leaned in for a kiss. Instead he whispered "just a little longer … before you get what's coming to you." He took my hand then kissed the hollow of my neck.
While still holding my hand, Royce seated himself as a sommelier appeared at the table. He quickly appraised the setting and made the assumption he was supposed to make. He looked at Royce as he began his memorized spiel. Royce put his well-manicured hand up to stop his speech. The sommelier looked at him expectantly. "Champagne please, a Brut rosé for my Rosie." Royce looked at me with feigned adoration. The man acknowledged the excellent choice then said simply "We serve only the best, Bruno Paillard Brut Rosé". He bowed to Royce and backed away from the table.
Royce continued to hold my hand. He engaged in lighthearted and superfluous conversation with Felix as we waited for our champagne. He was slowly applying pressure as he squeezed my fingers. I vowed I would not wince or register any discomfort. But long minutes passed before a waiter finally came and offered up a menu. Gratefully Royce cannot engage a person in conversation without using his hands. He let my fingers go as he turned on the charm. Under the cover of the tablecloth I rubbed my fingers. I purposely dropped my napkin. After I picked it up I ever so unobtrusively readjusted my chair, moving away from Royce. This did not go unnoticed by either of them.
After the meals had been ordered and the waiter walked away, Royce, keeping up the show, elegantly turned toward me. His face was hard. Without uttering one single word, I got the message. I started to breathe heavily and my heart beat furiously as his message was clearly conveyed. I felt the blood draining from my face, no doubt leaving angry splotches on my neck and cheeks.
His bitter gaze was cutting through me when the sommelier returned with the champagne. Royce turned toward the man with a smile on his face. With an impressive flourish the man uncorked the bottle and the sparkling liquid bubbled only to the top of the neck. He then poured a small amount into a metal container and tasted the liquid. It was obviously to his liking. He poured the champagne into our individual glasses, serving me first. I was still breathing heavily as the glass was placed before me. I was gulping in air as if there wasn't enough oxygen to sustain me.
Maybe I just knew that I wouldn't be breathing for much longer.
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