Chapter 6 Hate at first sight

"I'm glad you've finally come to your senses," he said with a genuine smile on his face. He stuck his nose back at the file in front of him. "I would not have approved of this marriage if it was not right for you." He continued.

"How would you know that dad? And don't give me that 'because I'm your father' crap because I strongly disagree." I said as I adjusted my body on the uncomfortably made wooden chair. My dad was behind his desk not even raising his head after my question.

He was always working in this office, only on special occasions did he come outside to have breakfast or to sit outside on the patio. I was surprised he didn't plant a bed somewhere in this huge space of files.

To my left, there was a huge mahogany double bookcase filled with books, although I doubt he's read any of them. And to my right was a fifty-drawer oak file cabinet. He really loved wooden furniture.

"Language Isabelle," his voice cut through the air.

"Sorry dad," I said in a defeated tone. There was a few seconds of silence and then, "Can I at least know who he is?"

"You will," he opened a drawer and took out another file. I lifted a brow, wondering what he was working on that took all his attention.

"Do you have his picture or-"

"He will be here today."

"What?" I yelled as I stood up pushing the chair backward with the sudden movement. "How come you didn't say anything about it?"

Silence.

"Why is he coming in today? I just got home yesterday!" My stomach turned. I felt like I was going to have a panic attack as I stood there in front of my father, my heart playing a drum solo. I had hoped to spend a few weeks resting, pushing all my worries aside. Trying to forget how crazy things were about to get.

"The sooner you're married, the better." he showed no emotion as his face stayed glued to his work files. With his glasses on, he looked more serious than usual. He had a round face but he was physically fit for a man in his early fifties.

"Sure dad, what's next? Are you going to tell me I'll be married by next month?" I asked as I folded my arms over my chest.

"No,"

"Ok, that's great because I-"

"You will be wed this month." He stated.

Oh. My. God. My dad was making a joke? Right now? Father of the freaking year.

"Please change your mind dad." I pleaded. I wasn't used to making my own decisions. Everything was always taken care of for me. To be honest, part of me didn't mind it. It was strange, but it was the truth.

As if moved by my plea, Mr. Branc stood up from behind his desk and moved towards me. He placed his hands on my shoulders as he stared at me with his dark eyes. I never really realized I carried so much of my dad's genes. I was a spitting image of him, only I had blue eyes. But even at that, my dad was way taller than me, so I had to look up.

"Listen, Isabelle, as your father, I must take care of you. I've known you since you were born and I know what type of man will be fitting to marry you." He left my shoulders and took my right hand.

"I admit I spoiled you a little too much, but that's only because you deserve to be comfortable and happy," my dad sure has a way with his words, I wondered why he and my mum failed at their marriage.

"Now that I have found a man that will continue to treat you like the princess that you are, I will be able to rest knowing you are in good hands. So please, do your old man a favor and say you'll get married. Hmm?"

_Ha! If he thinks that all this was going to make me say yes, he's in for something._

"Ok dad, I accept," What is this? Manipulation like this should be illegal! It's not fair. "I'll leave you to your work,"I stepped out of his office upset that my thoughts and my actions never matched.

I leaned my body on the door to his office, my eyes to the ceiling and my thoughts running wild. I couldn't wrap my head around everything that was happening. I closed my eyes, pushing the tears back. No, I was not going to cry over something like this. People would be more than happy to have such an opportunity, why was I different? What exactly did I want?

I blinked and stood up straight. There was no point in thinking about it over and over. I knew already that the best thing I could do for myself was to let go. I turned to walk back to my room, moving through all the portraits on the plan white wall. Some of which I painted. I stopped when I got to the family portrait I made just before everything changed, my greatest work.

I smiled. The first real one in a long time. My hand reached forward, touching the part where she sat, holding the brightest smile on her face. Hell, I missed her. Maybe things would have been different if she was still here.

I clenched my jaw and swallowed, realizing there's no need crying over spilled milk. I should get some rest before he comes. "I need a snack." I turned to walk to the kitchen. Just as I turned to the passage way to the kitchen, my body collided with another, hard and painful.

"Ow!" I hit the ground, hard. Not again. I blamed life, first, it turned my dad against me, and now even the house pushed me off my feet. I was just about to lie on the floor, defeated, when from my seated position I saw him.

"You?" I blurted out in confusion. And I thought this day couldn't get crazier. Guess I would be eating my words for breakfast...