Re-really though, honestly
I get bored of basic (no)
She's the baddest, straight up vicious, texting her and asking her
If she's alone and if she'd send some pictures, she said no (what)
Since it was my turn to pay for our living arrangements this go round, I had dibs on the master suites. The bedrooms were mostly for decoration, but with the midnight life I maintained, certain props were more necessary than usual for when Blythe and Kylie came around.
The bedroom-sized walk in closet looked like an ad for Saks 5th Ave, full to burst with designer labels of everything from ball gowns to skimpy lingerie. An explosion of matte nude, glitzy gold and jet black makeup bedecked the domineering vanity, and veritable mountains of glittering jewelry glistened from beneath gold-encrusted glass boxes.
I had strived to not be particular in any other place we had lived, amicably going along with whatever Carlisle and Esme wanted. Partly due to my upbringing, a certain level of demureness was just ingrained at this point.
I was more likely to admit to the second reason: that it pained me to be more difficult than necessary. Between me and Rose, there could be plenty of diva to go around on any given day. Carlisle didn't have to change me, take on a less than grateful jaded ward, but he had anyway with unerring grace and compassion. I didn't want to add to his burden.
Today, though, I was infinitely grateful for the sprawling master apartment. While I usually favored the smaller of the two bathrooms, I needed every bit of the free-standing soaker tub that overlooked Central Park.
Submerged, my legs dangling over the edge, I tried in vain to wash away the entire night. I was contending with the fact that not only did Carlisle drag a random stranger here like some sort of archaic marriage ritual - that was just embarrassing. No, that stranger just happened to be at the exact same club I had been at. And he was an unequivocal pompous critic of a jackass. A jackass who owed me a favor now, though, the one good note on this shitty soap opera of an evening.
I waited for half an hour, plenty of time to appear just petty enough, before I thought it safe to get out. Wrapping myself in my favorite waffle-knit towel, I walked down the hall to the seating area at the front of the apartment to let my hair air dry.
I had just crossed the threshold when he leapt up, apparently waiting for me. Carlisle must have shown him through - traitor. I wavered between screaming bloody murder and stalking away because honestly, I so did not want to have this conversation, whatever it was.
If I didn't, though, he could be persistent. And that would be a bad thing. I could handle TMZ, the Enquirer, In Touch, Us Weekly - any of them - banging on about my usual antics because it created predictability. I was a club-dwelling party girl, so that's where they hunted me down.
Boys, though, meant far more tenacity. They sniffed out Tay and Trav like bloodhounds, positively ruthless. It was a recipe for disaster, and far more likely to result in our secret getting outed.
"Please tell me you're fucking joking right now." I seethed at Edward Masen, beyond incredulous.
"Isabella, please, don't be a drama queen." Yeah, that wasn't happening, especially not with the drawling, arrogant tone he was using.
I clutched my towel tighter, keenly aware it was the only article of fabric between my naked body and his lecherous eyes. "You're literally in my fucking room - where is Carlisle?" I continued without an answer, my rage train full steam ahead. "Don't you think a skosh of drama is necessary? That aside, what the hell do you want? I think you made your views on my social standing rather apparent, so I know you're not here for a quickie."
The sound of his teeth grinding was grimly satisfying. As if I could forget even if I didn't have an immaculate immortal memory.
"He and Esme stepped out with your... siblings. Don't be obtuse, Isabella, you were practically undressing me with your eyes. What else was I supposed to think." The fact my family had left me alone with him infuriated me. His lame justification was worse, set my frozen blood boiling.
I rolled my eyes, turning and walking away down the hall to my closet before I accosted him. "So do you insult every woman who looks at you with any modicum of desire? My handsome comment must not have been far off the mark. There's no way any self-respecting lady would sleep with a man that's inclined to such wanton castigation."
There was silence behind me, so I coiled around to look at him. The gaze he'd trained on me was bizarre, a mix of admiration and marvel. Clearly I was not who he thought I was - depraved sex-fiend, witless bimbo, it was anyone's guess. But the fact that he was just now realizing that was repugnant.
I grabbed a pair of jersey Dolce & Gabbana joggers, slipping them over my naked ass when I heard him approach. I hurled the towel at him the moment he appeared in the doorway. As it covered his head, I spun to shimmy into a Versace bralette.
He yanked the offending home-good off his head, discarding it on the floor just as I had jerked a moth-eaten off the shoulder white shirt over my head. It was one of the very few sentimental items I'd pleaded Alice to allow.
I shot him a malicious smirk at his obvious indignation. "So not only do you come into my rooms without permission, you follow me to my closet to watch me get dressed. Are you, like, some kind of pervy voyeur on a soapbox, or something?"
The sound of his hands clenching, and the accompanying deep breath, was extremely audible in the quiet space. Maybe he wanted to hit me - now that would be funny.
When he spoke, however, his voice was surprisingly calm. "I can't tell if you really are just a spoiled brat, or you're actually an intelligent woman with her guard up."
Damn. That was unexpected. I simply stood there regarding him for a moment, trying to picture myself even liking this man, let alone loving him as Carlisle envisioned. He was sinfully handsome, but the contrast with his vulgar attitude was glaring.
Belatedly, I realized he was staring at me as well. His brow was furrowed, deep concentration swirling in his eyes. Like he wasn't just staring at me, but trying to look through me. The sensation that he was trying to read my mind brushed across me, fleeting but powerful. It was jarring.
Abruptly, I felt awkward for a reason I couldn't name. The mask I wore was right there, handed to me by him. Spoiled brat. I brushed past him, patting his shoulder as I went by. "One of life's great mysteries. You can show yourself out." I called as I strutted down the hall to my bedroom, closing the door behind me.
I spent the rest of the night - and the following day - sulking in my room. I knew I was living down to his expectations, acting the spoiled brat, but honestly. The prospect that my illegitimate father visualized me falling in love with that man was asinine.
My time was wiled away Snapping Blythe, Kylie and Corin without much feeling. The way their locale changed - going from someplace vaguely 70s-inspired that had to be Seven24 to a selfie with Disco, the bouncer at Temple Bar - James was certainly earning his paycheck tonight. It made me feel wistful, just a bit gloomy I'd left in such a hurry.
The urge to rejoin them possessed me, swift and fierce, but I quickly tamped it down. As vicious as I could be on any given night, it was naught compared to the blistering violence that was bubbling just beneath my skin at the current moment.
Everything I saw was red; I was just as likely to dismember the first person to look at me wrong as I was to toss a drink in their face.
By 3pm I was like a dog in a cage, shuddering with need to howl at a moon. When I finally drifted from my bedroom, out of the master apartments, the house was silent.
A note on the counter in the kitchen was written in Carlisle's elegant penmanship: Out hunting. Be back by dusk. Please think it over. - C. Alice's heart and X's and O's at the bottom sent a pang through my bones that made me feel hollow.
I felt it, the familiar tug on my heart I desperately tried to drown out with boozy mayhem, shimmering neon lights, and good vibes.
I knew Carlisle loved me. He saw me and I resented it if only because he could, no matter how hard I tried to plaster it over.
He saw how I longed after Alice and Jasper's quiet, unspoken companionship.
Yearned for the steady love of Carlisle's gossamer kisses laid in Esme's hair.
Pined for the effusive burn of passion between Rosalie and Emmett.
Lonely didn't even begin to cover it.
Letting my body drift aimlessly, waiting for the night to take over and save me, I found myself at the concert grand piano, pristine and untouched, in the grand salon. Lifting the fallboard, I slid into the seat and let my fingers wander as chaotically as my thoughts.
I slid from Rachmaninoff to Chopin to Beethoven at first. As my emotions built, I transitioned to more contemporary songs that I translated from synthesizer and guitar with unerring precision.
When I moved into Iris, by the Goo Goo Dolls, I found myself playing the notes with growing, frenzied repetition. Like my hands were begging the notes to come to life, manifest into physical form if only I could pound them out fast enough.
When I heard the elevator begin its ascent, I slammed the fallboard shut in a panic and made a mad dash to my room. I did not need the sentimental nostalgia for my playing. My family would surely gush over it, and I couldn't handle that right now.
As far as they knew, I hadn't touched a piano in 25 years. Tonight was just a fun trip down memory lane. Not a big deal. Nope.
For a tour of Bella's penthouse, check out Enes Yilmazer's tour: youtu dot be slash aN9DH_GxqEo?si=bHT3eUtSEmUWshRs
To hear the piano version of the already-beautiful song Iris, Kellin Quinn did an incredible cover: youtu dot be slash cyOqIKGbYkg?si=USDR2sHGxyJ0oqCz