Protector (The Brannock Siblings Book 4) (2 page)

Isabelle

"Come on, Isabelle. You can do this."

Isabelle Moore shook her head and sighed. She was finally
resorting to talking to herself and if her Mom and Dad were listening, they
wouldn't have to wonder if she was losing her mind anymore.

She already had.

"Just do it. Open the door and talk to them like the
adult that you are."

But she couldn't do it. No matter how many times she
attempted to, it just never happened. She loved her parents and even though
they were ignorant most of the time she knew they loved her, too. It's just
that Christopher had always gotten to them first and planted the seed in their
minds. Her mental turmoil was now the only thing they saw. Something she was
attempting to rectify right now, if she could just force herself to walk into
the room where her parents always ate lunch together.

A murmur filtered through the door and she gasped. The sound
of that voice was familiar, but it couldn't be. There was no possible way he
could have made it here before her.

Isabelle took a deep breath and wrapped her hand around the
doorknob for the seventh time in the last ninety seconds. She pushed slowly and
the sounds from the room gradually became clearer, the swinging door didn't let
out so much as a squeak.

The posh style of her father's office always made her want
to snicker. The room was horrifying. Everything was too big, too dark, and way
too expensive. An office should allow for concentration and efficiency. Much
like the rest of their house, this office dwarfed anyone and everyone who stood
in it.

Except for the man currently throwing her a very pointed
look.

No. Please, God. No!

Christopher Hampton, her
'boyfriend'
of five long,
tortuous months was sitting across from her father's favorite chair with her
mother artificially beaming next to him.

Christopher could have been an actor in more ways than one.
His bright green eyes complimented the dark blonde hair that always fell over
his forehead. The slicked back style he had kept since he was a teenager never
lasted past three in the afternoon, but she always thought he was better
looking when it was messy and unkempt, which was rare these days. Women fawned
over him, swooned over him, went into heat over him. Hollywood would have
treasured him if he wasn't bent on power.

His noble face was always saturated with confidence. She
couldn't remember ever seeing him uncomfortable. That slimy smile that used to
make her stomach flutter was only used when he knew he was about to get what he
wanted. Other than that, emotion was never genuine when it came to Christopher
Hampton. He demanded the worst kind of respect with just a look and God only
knew if the man had ever felt a morsel of sympathy for
anyone
.

She vaguely remembered how tall he had been when she was
just a child. Throughout his life, he continued to gradually tower over
everyone around him. The point was, he stuck out in a room with his height, his
looks, his presence. It was disgusting. Christopher was handsome, regal, and
charming. Always had been, but once his true colors came out, it felt like he
pulled a mask over that face every day. He was a snake. A cockroach. The bane
of her very existence.

And God help her, but she couldn't get away from him.

She tried, but he was relentless and her parents were,
again, very ignorant when it came to her and their need to get her married to an
older man that would tie her family together with the elite.

Elite
was just a fancy word for
assholes
.

She felt the barest of grins tug at her lips and wished for
her parents to read her mind just this once. They would be scandalized.

"Ah, Isabelle, perfect timing." The sound of her
father's sweet voice didn't help today. In fact, it made Isabelle more nervous
than ever. He sounded resigned and almost as if he felt sorry for her.

But why would he feel sorry for his only daughter when he
could so effortlessly give her to a man he didn't truly know? It baffled her
that the father who believed in integrity and loyalty her whole life, gave it
up so easily for a few more dollars.

And that was
all
he would get from this deal, as far
as she knew.

Nicholas Moore was looking older and older every day. He was
short and balding but that was why people underestimated him. He was a very
aggressive business man and once you got past his soft look - including his
continuously rounding middle - you saw how ruthless he could be. It was
wonderful when it came to keeping his family fed and living comfortably, but at
the moment, Isabelle wished he would throw out all his business tactics and
just listen to his daughter.

But his trucking company, Simmon's Transport - the company
he'd poured his own sweat and blood into - was more important. It was
always
more important.

"What is going on?" Isabelle felt her fingers
clench into her fists until it felt like they would never come out again. This
wasn't good at all. The three of them meeting together like this. Nothing good
ever came from that.

"Now, Isabelle. You know perfectly well what is
happening," Christopher said with a slimy smirk. "You and I spoke of
this yesterday, don't you remember?"

Son of a bitch!
Yes, she remembered. She remembered
the conversation exactly. She also clearly remembered how she told him there
was no way in hell she was ever going to marry him and she also clearly
remembered how painful his grip on her arm had been when he dragged her out of
the restaurant to the car in a fit of fury.

He was careful to keep the marks where no one else could see
them and her never ending clumsiness was the excuse for the ones he just didn't
care about. His open handed slaps only left a horrible sting and a red
handprint that eventually faded. The way her parents acted, they never
suspected a thing.

Christopher was planning on setting a date for their
marriage. A marriage she
never
agreed to, but hadn't spoken up loud
enough to stop. By the look on Christopher's face, the date was set and
Isabelle's stomach was no longer inside of her body. It fell to the floor with
a splat, right along with her heart.

"The fifteenth of October will be such a beautiful
time, my dear," her mother said somewhat excitedly.
Always keep up
appearances.
Excitement was a flutter of the lashes for the woman. "A
fall wedding is always beautiful and at least then you won't be tempted to wear
anything immodest."

Isabelle almost rolled her eyes because
of course
that is what her mother would focus on instead of the fact that her daughter begged
her many times before not to make her marry the man. Well, her
attempted
begging was never heard because her mother couldn't take the time to stop and
listen.

"You don't understand, Isabelle. This is more
necessary than you could possibly imagine."

Necessary. How happy would a
necessary
marriage be?
Especially for an inexperienced nineteen year old girl that wanted nothing to
do with a man who was as dangerous as Christopher.

Marjorie Moore never wanted children, but when Isabelle was
born, she had been a good mother and always secretly loved having a daughter.
If not because she was flesh and blood, then because she could play dress up
and pretend princess with her daughter's life. Marjorie was always put
together, never coming out into the light unless she was dressed up with makeup
and jewelry. Isabelle knew without a doubt that her father was the only person
who ever saw her mother out of character and even then, it was probably rare.
Marjorie's light brown hair and brown eyes were nothing like Isabelle's, but
her daughter had the same stubborn attitude and, perhaps, it even rivaled her
own. The only thing that Isabelle didn't like about her mother was her need for
money.

Marjorie was
money
in every aspect of the word. She
grew up with money, married with money, and she would die with money.

This small woman towered over men who had seen the worst of
the world because of her 'position'. She towered over Isabelle, too, but not
physically. It was unfortunate, but Isabelle always felt tiny next to her
beautiful mother.

Isabelle wanted to argue, but she was at a loss for words no
matter how desperate she was to get out of this God awful situation. Everything
always happened so quickly since the minute she met Christopher at her parents'
anniversary party. Nick and Margie had been planning this relationship since
the day Isabelle turned eighteen. It shouldn't come as a surprise that they
never thought to tell her and it didn't matter that she never officially met
Christopher until five months ago. In this society, if the parents knew him, no
one else needed to.

"October fifteenth? That's only three months
away," she finally squeaked out.

Her mother's lips thinned to a fine line with disappointment,
smearing the bright red of her lipstick. Her marriage to her husband was
arranged in a somewhat similar way, but the only difference was that they had
chosen to be together at a very young age. They loved each other, so it worked
out.

That was not the case with Christopher and this was
not
an arrangement. Arrangements were for safety, numbers, and conflict
resolutions. This was a game of power.

Christopher was incapable of love in any form of the word.
She didn't even think he loved his parents. In fact, she was pretty sure the
man was a sociopath. Every emotion that he performed was just that. A
performance. The only real thing about him was his greed. That and his
indulgence in the drug world. She could never tell if he was high or just being
a typical asshole.

The man was almost as rich as her own father, but only
because his grandfather - and founder of the company Christopher now controlled
- hated his own son and left everything to his grandson instead. Christopher
was handed everything he had in this world. Why would
she
be any
different?

"I don't think we need to wait longer than that to
become husband and wife, Isabelle. A wedding can be planned in that amount of
time."

She looked into Christopher's eyes, which were filled with
warning. She wasn't going to get anywhere today. Not as long as he was around.
He already manipulated everyone into believing that she was just a scared
little girl wanting adventure before she settled down. She was expected to
fulfill her duties to her family, however, so no one was going to indulge her
anymore.

Why couldn't I have been born a man?
she asked
herself.

The reasons Christopher was even going through with any of
this - besides the fact that it would make him even richer - was because she
was the perfect example of a trophy wife. At least in the looks department.

Isabelle knew she was beautiful. She knew she had good
genes. She also knew that it was a curse. Her long, dark brown hair had always
been shiny and thick with very little effort. Her grey eyes were unique and
when she was sad, they morphed into the color of the sky just before a
thunderstorm. She only noticed this because she was sad a lot lately. Her lips
were a natural shade of pink that no lipstick could enhance. She'd been
complimented countless times on her skin, her lips, her body. Women she used to
be friends with in school now hated her because she drew the attention of men
so easily. Not that she ever cared or paid attention to these men. She didn't
care about them because she couldn't ever relate to them. They still kept their
eyes on her whenever she walked into a room.

She hated her beauty. She hated her genes. She loved her
parents aside from their ignorance and arrogance, but in a way she hated them,
too. It was time to take her life into her own hands.

"I told you already, Christopher," she said
softly, pausing to take a deep, fortifying breath. "I won't marry
you."

Her mother gasped. "Isabelle! How dare you disrespect
your fiancé like that."

Christopher held his hand up to stop her mother from saying
anymore. The power he held made her anger rage into a boil. "It's alright,
Marjorie. She is nervous about the wedding and about me. I think it's time to
get to know each other a little better, don't you think?" He turned the
full force of his gaze onto Isabelle and she could see the fury in those eyes.
He stayed in character, though. He always did in front of her parents and that
is exactly why they trusted him. "Once you get to know me, you will see
that it's not only the most logical choice to marry me, but it's in your best
interests."

She stared him down, her hands trembling and her heart
racing with fear, but her expression was steady.

She understood the threat.

She knew exactly what her best interests were when it came
to him and she couldn't think of a way out of it.

Isabelle looked at her father who shook his head as her
mother angrily hissed in his ear. They weren't going to listen. She had to find
a way out on her own.

"Can I please speak with my parents? Alone?"

Christopher smiled at her, the smile that she thought she
could fall in love with before he showed his true colors and she realized that
smile was the mask that made everyone love him or mistakenly trust him.
"Of course, my dear. I will be just outside the door if you should need
me."

She cringed at his endearment, but no one was looking at her
anymore. He nodded to her parents and walked past her, his shoulder bumping
hers lightly and his hand wrapping around her wrist painfully. It all happened
so quickly and Isabelle's breath whooshed out of her in a rush, making her
dizzy.

"Isabelle, look at you. You have got to calm yourself
or you will make a fool of all of us," her mother hissed at her.