Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.
Forks, Washington, July 2014
A storm threatened to split the skies apart the night Isabella Swan arrived at Masen Hall.
The tires of the cab slid in the mud as the car pulled to a sudden stop at the bottom of the curved driveway. The wind caught the door as she opened it with shaking hands. She tried to steady her heartbeat as she looked up at the sprawling mansion that looked infinitely more terrifying in the midst of the storm but it continued to pound heavily against her rib cage, threatening to leap from her chest.
"Are you sure this is the place Miss?" the cab driver asked skeptically, turning to look at the frightened young woman as she stared up at the unlit manor before them.
"Yes, this is it," she murmured, trying not to let the fear paralyze her. It wasn't like she was walking to her execution, but it felt like she was.
"Well that'll be forty-five thirty then."
She paid him with shaking hands, telling him to keep the change as she pulled her bag from the seat beside her. She struggled for a second with the cowardly urge to beg the driver to take her back to the city where she would be safe. She could leave without ever anything in her life changing, without anyone ever having known she was there.
Then what would Rosalie do?
The daunting reminder of the danger her sister was in gave her the kick courage she needed to step out of the cab and into the freezing wind, flinching as it struck her hard, making her stagger as she began her way up the curving drive, the trees lining the road offering no shelter against the onslaught.
Her teeth chattered as the rain begun to fall, soaking through her coat and shirt in seconds and plastering her hair to her face as the drops caught on her eyelashes.
"Are you gonna be alright?" the driver shouted from the cab that he'd moved behind her, refusing to pull away until she'd replied that she would be fine, knowing that it was the largest lie she'd ever told.
She felt a piece of her leave as she watched the lights of his cab disappear into the storm but remembered that it would be nothing compared to what she was supposed to give the man inside of the manor.
Breathing deeply, she pulled her coat tighter around her, though it did nothing to fight the shocking cold that was threatening to turn the blood in her veins into ice. She shivered as she stood before the door that was at least five feet taller than she was, a dim light helping her locate the brass knocker whose thud was barely recognized above the sound of the storm.
Eventually the door creaked open, and a small and elderly woman stood before her. Her teeth chattered too hard for her to speak, barely pushing out a hello before the woman pulled her inside and closed the giant door.
The woman didn't stop after closing the door, making her way through the cold and vast hall and Isabella followed silently, watching her breaths in the air as they passed a wide fireplace that was unlit despite the frigid temperatures.
Why the hell did I agree to this?
The sound of the storm barely registered as they walked, the only sound in the house seeming to come from the squeak of her wet shoes as it echoed in the tapestry-lined corridor. At any other time, she would have stopped to admire the tapestries and adornments inside of the old mansion, something about it making her feel like she was no longer in the twenty-first century. She almost expected William Darcy to walk out from one of the closed doors and glare at her before declaring his love.
The thought made her smile and then filled her with fear. The man she would be meeting tonight was no Darcy, instead a Whickam who was threatening to ruin her for the thrill of it.
A shiver ran down her spine at the thought of him, as it had each time since her elder sister had told her what she'd done and the trouble that it had caused.
You can do this.
The words did nothing to rid her of the terrifying images her mind had created and bile rose in her mouth as they turned down another long corridor.
You might fail, her inner voice reminded her as she thought about the far from well thought out plan her sister had thrown out at her just a few days earlier. They couldn't risk failure, the consequences would be severe, incredibly so. Coming alone had been a part of the plan her sister had come up with to lessen the chance of rejection but Isabella silently cursed Rose for not thinking about how unsafe it might be. She didn't know this man, and despite their short meetings, neither did her sister.
The lady finally stopped walking, and Isabella struggled to push her frozen body the final few feet from where the woman had stopped, turning to look at her before pushing it open. Light spilled into the hallway and she held her breath as the woman walked inside. With a heavy exhale, she followed.
She trembled and not from the cold as she took in the huge room, her eyes raking over the unlit crystal chandelier to the intricate patterned molding around the well lit fireplace. She noted, as she took in the sprawling mahogany table that had been built for a large crowd and the high backed chairs lining either side and as her gaze traveled, she noticed that not all of the chairs were empty.
At the foot of the table, with his face turned downwards and his shoulders slouched ever so slightly, was Edward Cullen.
The Cullen Bastard, he was often referred to in the shallow society circles her sister and brother-in-law belonged to, groups of people who had been brainwashed for generations into thinking they were better than anyone they deemed beneath them. Edward Cullen was worth at least triple of the richest man in those groups but it hadn't stopped them from shunning him. Terrifying, they called him, powerful and terrifying.
He was also the man who would be taking her virginity that night.
"Sir, the woman has arrived."
Without uncurling from the slouch in the large chair opposite her, the man lifted his gaze to hers.
At the sight of him, her breath caught in her throat and her bag fell from her frozen fingers to land with an echoing thud at her feet. She moved her gaze down, trying to ignore the fierce pounding of her heart.
Her sister had told her about it and she'd heard all sorts of terrifying stories from her brother in law, he'd always made a point to flaunt the disgusting scars that resided on his cousin.
But none of what she'd heard had been enough to prepare her from seeing his ruined face