After her mother dropped the bombshell, Isabelle was in a haze for the next four days.
Her mind was spinning.
Numb to the world around her, she meandered through her small apartment while she struggled with the realities of her new circumstances.
She was about to become a wife, to no less an unknown person.
Other than his enormous riches and power, she knew nothing about this man.
Her flesh crawled at the thought.
Naturally, Gina continued to act exasperatingly casually over the entire situation.
One afternoon, she came briskly into the flat with an armful of shopping bags and chastised, “Stop moping around, Isabelle. This is a good thing!”
Isabelle shot her mother an incredulous look from her spot on the worn sofa.
“How can you say that? You sold me off like a piece of property!”
Gina waved her hand dismissively.
“Reduce this drama, Isa. Haven’t I done what I am supposed to do as a mother? You still want to be ungrateful?” She said through gritted teeth.
Isabelle seethed. “By trading me away to a stranger?”
“Last time I checked Liam Callahan is not exactly unfamiliar.” Gina retorted.
He is among the richest and most influential guys in the city.
You need to be giving me thanks. Isabelle felt a twist of disgust in her stomach.
Expressing gratitude? For duping me into a marriage devoid of passion?” Gina gave her a hard, glaring look before breezing past her.
Her heels clicked against the hardwood floors and flung open the door.
I noticed a shapely woman who stood on the other side, her expression was that of polite indifference.
The woman asked, her eyes darting to Isabelle,
“Miss Marino?”
Gina gave a stately nod. “This is Isabelle, my daughter. Mr. Callahan’s prospective bride.”
The female gave a tense smile.
“Obviously. I’m Eliza, the personal assistant to Mr. Callahan. I’ve been sent by him to accompany you to your new home.”
Isabelle’s heart felt icy.
“My… new residence?”
“Yes, Miss Marino,” Eliza calmly answered.
The plan is for you to move into Mr. Callahan’s penthouse right away.
There, a car is waiting to transport you.”
The situation’s truth hit Isabelle so hard that her mind whirled.
She was being carried off to marry a man she hardly knew; this was occurring.
“I… I don’t have anything packed,” was all she could manage.
She shouldn’t worry, Eliza reassured her.
“Mr. Callahan has made arrangements for the collection and delivery of your possessions to the penthouse. Right now, we ought to be leaving.”
Isabelle’s eyes darted to her mother as if to beg her to stop being so crazy.
However, Gina’s expression stayed incredibly composed.
“Go on, sweetheart,” she nudged her as she pushed her in the door.
“Don’t keep Mr. Callahan waiting.” A strong mixture of disgust and terror swirled in Isabelle’s gut.
It was true that she was being ripped from the only life she had ever known and placed in a lavish prison due to her mother’s avarice.
She trailed behind Eliza into the corridor, her every step felt like a nail driving a stake into her freedom.
She took one last, desperate look over her shoulder at the life she was leaving behind as the door clicked shut behind her.
She realized at that very instant that nothing would ever be the same.
*****
The elegant town vehicle slid through the urban streets, giving Isabelle a warped perspective of the outside world through the tinted windows.
Curling into a ball in the luxurious leather seat, she seemed to be trying to protect her bones from the cold.
Next to her, Eliza, who was always professional, was sitting rigidly and efficiently, tapping on her tablet.
She had left Isabelle alone with her whirling thoughts, having provided little in the way of conversation.
Isabelle felt her breath catch in her throat as the automobile approached a soaring glass-and-steel monolith.
This was it, the gilded cage that would house Liam Callahan and keep her captive.
Eliza led her past the staff’s appraising looks, into the lavish lobby, and a private elevator.
The climb was vertiginous, both literally and metaphorically, as Isabelle tracked the increasing floor numbers.
At last, the elevator smoothly stopped, and the doors opened to show an opulent penthouse apartment.
With a gaping expression on her face, Isabelle emerged to survey the expansive area.
Elevated ceilings reached well above, and floor-to-ceiling windows provided an amazing perspective of the metropolitan skyline.
An aura of sumptuous luxury was created by the sleek, contemporary finishes and plush furniture that adorned every nook and cranny.
“Miss Marino, welcome to your new home,” Eliza said in a clear voice that broke the quiet.
With a sharp gulp, Isabelle’s throat became parched.
“It’s… beautiful.”
“That’s right,” Eliza nodded curtly. “Mr. Callahan did not cut any corners. I’ll bring you to your accommodations now if you’ll follow me.”
Quarters?
Isabelle tasted something bitter after hearing the term.
Here she was, behind golden bars and everything, a prisoner.
Eliza took her down a corridor that was full of locked doors before coming to a stop in front of one at the end.
She pulled Isabelle in and the artist discovered herself in an opulent bedroom suite with a walk-in closet, sitting area, and private bathroom.
Eliza told her, “Your belongings will be brought up shortly. Please settle in. Mr. Callahan is scheduled to join you for supper at precisely eight o’clock.”
Isabelle felt her heart thump in her chest. “Eat dinner? Alongside him?”
Eliza raised her exquisitely styled brow. “Obviously. After all, you are to be his wife.”
The words hung there, oppressive and weighty.
Isabelle felt lightheaded as the lavish surroundings closed in on her.
Eliza appeared to detect her unease.
“I’ll let you get comfortable. Just utilize the house line if you need anything.”
She then pivoted on her heel and ran out of the room, leaving Isabelle by herself in her opulent cage.
Isabelle fell onto the luscious bed’s edge and swiveled her head as the door behind Eliza clicked shut.
She was compelled to assume the role of a billionaire’s wife and was living as a prisoner in a world of excess and money.
And in a matter of hours, she would see her captor in person again.