Twisted Desires: He may never be mine

"Why won't you open the gates?"

Even with the air-conditioning on, the heat outside was becoming unbearable. The car window was already rolled down, letting the scorching heat rush in. My patience was wearing thin. I understood my father's reluctance to see me, but he could at least allow me inside. "Sorry, Miss, but we've been instructed to keep the gates closed unless told otherwise."

"Ughhh!" I exclaimed, frustration boiling inside me like a volcano. "Come on, Dad! You can't just shut me out like this and then avoid me."

Damn it! How does one even escape a situation like this? Google doesn't provide answers for these kinds of dilemmas. If only life were that simple.

I leaned back in the car seat and slowly rolled up the window. I pondered for a good minute on whom I was going to call.

"Calling Aunt won't solve anything; I've burdened her enough," I shook my head. "What I need to do is call Dad. Yes," I reached for my bag on the passenger seat and retrieved my phone. "I'll just ask him to let me in."

You'd think I'd gotten the message by now, but if Dad wants to be stubborn, I don't mind proving that I'm his daughter.

"What do you want, Isabelle?" he said coldly.

"Hi, Dad. It's good to finally hear from you."

"I don't have time for this; speak."

I rolled my eyes. "Come on, a little exchange of pleasantries won't hurt anyone, will it," I said, forcing a smile. "But since you're so eager to hear from me, why don't you let me in so we can chat over tea and biscuits?"

"There'll be plenty of biscuits and snacks at your wedding reception. If you're craving biscuits so badly, just pick a date." He reiterated, confirming my suspicions.

It was as if he could see my smile. Dad couldn't let me be happy, even for a moment. "You know, for someone born in Paris, you'd think you understood the meaning of marriage," I said through clenched teeth.

"And one would think that you, knowing who you're speaking to, would be more respectful." He replied.

Darn it! He really is my father, isn't he? "Dad, please, don't do this. Don't force me to marry that man," I pleaded. Sure, you'd expect me to be defiant, but marriage? I might as well jump off a cliff. "I don't even know his name or what he looks like. Don't you want lovely grandchildren?"

"As I've told you before, you don't need to worry about those things. Just pick a date and show up at the wedding."

"But I-"

"Enough," he commanded. I despised how effortlessly authoritative he sounded. Would my future husband be the same? "I've wasted enough time. Call me back when you have something worthwhile to say." He ended the call.

At least he cut me off before I dwelled on my future husband's behavior.

I glanced out the window. I'd forgotten how beautiful this stubborn man's house was. Even from outside, the Rosecliff mansion exuded elegance. Mom must've been obsessed with princess movies at one point; that's the only explanation for the house being built like this. Two statues of demons with angelic wings flanked the gates. The fence gleamed with gold plating. I could barely make out the rose beds and the patio near the entrance, as well as the figure comfortably seated in one of the chairs. Could've been a rainy day.

Dad always tried to control every aspect of my life, even as a child. Choosing my school, my friends, my meals, and when I ate. With so many restrictions, it's no wonder I rebelled against his rules. Even his fence seemed like a tool for control, towering so high it looked like he kept prisoners in orange jumpsuits trapped inside every day.

Time flies; the last time I stared at my home like this was when I started college. Back then, I was excited to explore life's possibilities. Now? I was scared. Scared to live in this house again without Mom. Scared to embark on another chapter of my life without her. Her death at fifteen robbed her of seeing me live and now she wouldn't witness my marriage.

It was fun defying Dad before, but this time feels different. He's serious. According to Aunt Sofia, Joe Taylor was the closest thing Dad had to family since Uncle's death many years ago. Uncle Joe passed when I was three, so I don't know much about him beyond stories. Supposedly, he wanted to arrange a marriage between his seven-year-old son and Dad's daughter-me-to solidify our families' bond.

"Ughhh! This is ridiculous." I whispered.

"Excuse me, Miss." I was so lost in thought I didn't notice the security guard. I quickly rolled down the window. Had Dad changed his mind? Had my efforts paid off? "I'm sorry, but the Master said you can't stay here for more than a minute," he announced.

"Fine, I'll leave. Tell your master I'll be back next month, same time, same place!" I yelled, pulling out of the driveway without waiting for a response.

Despite my claims of resistance, I'd already given in mostly. Can you blame me? Dad never let me do anything on my own. I wasn't an independent woman; I was spoiled rotten. I sighed, hitting the brakes after leaving the driveway. I checked my purse; unsurprisingly, it was empty. What was I thinking renting the car? Where did it all go wrong?

I used to be a woman who indulged in life's luxuries, anything money could buy. The keyword being 'was'. Since the marriage proposal, I've been losing weight rapidly.

When I left home-more forced than chosen-I thought I'd finally have the chance to explore and be free. Initially, it was fun until he froze my accounts.

Dad won, huh? Well, mystery husband-to-be, you're in for a wild ride. Who says I can't explore through marriage? First, I need to settle unfinished business, then I'll return home. And who knows, maybe I'll agree. It depends on my mood.

I set the car in motion again, heading back to the city.

Your new life awaits, Isa...

"I can't believe this," I muttered, gasping for air as I climbed the last flight of stairs.

Fresh out of college with a degree in accounting, my life hadn't been a whirlwind of excitement like I thought it would. I barely dipped my toes into the pool of adult life, only to be greeted with a marriage proposal from a stranger.

Everyday since I left home, I got reminded how dumb I was for leaving, how I should have accepted it with a happy heart. But no one would ever understand, not until they're in the same situation. Right now, I didn't even want to be me.

After a grueling day, all I craved was some peace and quiet. "Finally, I made it." I sighed as I reached the top. Note to self: stair climbing should be listed in the top three things I hated the most. But as I got to the door or my apartment, I realized that once more, I got hit by one of the universes shenanigans. "What now?" I held the door handle and tried at it again, but it refused to budge. I raised my hand to check my watch.

"Ava? Why the hell is my door locked?" I wailed, dropping my hands, and raising my head to look at the ceiling. I felt like I was about to drop dead. I stood there, waiting for her, wondering what could be worse than this situation. I dropped my head to look at the hallway.

In the hallway, everything was basic. The walls were plain and strong, simply keeping things in place. Underneath, the floors were made of wood, smooth and cozy. The lights above me went on and off, telling the world that their end is near. But knowing the landlord, they would stop working long before it would get changed.

I turned to look behind me as I heard footsteps from the door opposite mine. I watched the door swing open. She stepped out of the room with hurried steps and wrapped her arms around my neck, squeezing out my last breath. "Where have you been Isa? " She squeezed tighter. " I was worried." She released me from her grip and stared at me with her beautiful dark green eyes, her hands now on my shoulders.

Her facial features were perfectly selected. Strawberry blond hair with emerald green eyes and light freckles on her cheeks. She wore a green knee-length nightgown which told me she'd been home all day and I couldn't help but smile. Ava was the only person that felt like home besides my brothers. She never made me doubt for a second that she cared about me even when I ran away from home.

All my other friends didn't get it though, they all seemed to be quick on their heels when they heard I was cut off. Although I wasn't listening, it had something to do with 'luxury lifestyle' and 'hot billionaire' and how I wanted nothing to do with them. They were wrong anyways, I only loathed the latter not the former. I wondered why girls always thought all billionaires were these hot ecstatic creatures. But that, I would leave for later. All I wanted now was to sleep.

"I just went to see my dad, nothing serious."

"And?" She squeezed my shoulders. "Has the problem been fixed?"

"No, but I have several measures I haven't implemented yet. If I could just get into my apartment..." I raised my brow, signaling to the door behind me.

"Well... Ehem... I don't think that will be possible," she hesitated. She peeked past me to where the stairs were as if looking for someone. "The thing is, Laura came in today and she said you couldn't stay here anymore."

"What? But why the hell not?" I blinked in shock, furrowing my brows. Laura only let me stay with her for a few months because she needed someone to help clean the house when she was away. Of course, that was profitable to me seeing that I didn't have money for rent anyways, but that stingy critter could not be this mean, could she?

"She said to give you this note." Ava reached into her pocket and brought out a tiny yellow paper. Taking the paper, I arched my brows in anticipation, wondering what exactly she couldn't say over the phone. I unfolded it, revealing words In unclear ugly handwriting. Thank goodness one's handwriting doesn't determine their looks.

**You can't stay. Got paid to kick you out. Your bags are with Ava, be gone before dawn.**

I had to say, I always admired how she was so honest and straightforward. This was the first time she used her sticky paper on something other than price tags. They were usually things that involved me using her stuff.

**30 cents per toast.**

**10 cents per minute. Don't overuse my microwave.**

Hmm, good times. I could feel her love for me with each note. So what if she threw me out? We've played this game more than a thousand times. It's called _'kick out isa, bring isa back.'_ I smirked.

"Hey, you just got kicked out. What's funny about that?" Ava raised my chin and looked straight at me. I was so lost in thought I forgot she was still here, standing with me.

"Oh, uhmm nothing," I shook my head, " I'm just..."

I couldn't think of what to say. What was I feeling? Shock? Anger? Exhaustion? "Do you think I can leave my stuff till I get back from work tomorrow? I think I'm gonna work the night shift today."

"Yeah, of course, but you still have four hours left. Why don't you come in an-"

"I'll be fine Ava. Might as well work extra hours." I shrugged walking backward to the stairs.

"But you-"

"See you tomorrow." I waved, forced a smile on my face and turned around. I walked straight to the stairs. Dad was getting serious about this. He made sure I didn't get a job with my degree, then he made sure I had nowhere to stay-that was pretty easy since my friends were hung up on money- and now he's paying people to make life harder for me. Bravo monsieur, you finally learned how to truly restrain me, make life so hard I have to come back pleading. Too bad I'm a girl, I could have been your wasteful prodigal son. I'd have to call him tomorrow morning to tell him how happy I am that he found me a husband. I couldn't have done it without him. Seriously.

I left the building, feeling frustrated by the scorching sun. I shielded my eyes with my hand to see the busy street ahead. People with unhappy faces hurried in all directions, while cars honked loudly from every corner. It was a bustling afternoon. My legs hurt from walking all the way from the car rentals, and I knew I had to walk more to reach my destination.

I started walking. Ok new goal, get through the day. When tomorrow comes, everything will be fine. Dad would win, but at least I'll finally go back to the life I know and love. That's it, just get through the-

I stopped thinking as my eyes opened. I was too engrossed in thinking I didn't realize I closed my eyes. I raised my hand to see what direction I was headed but it happened too fast I couldn't have seen it even if I doubled my speed. And then...darkness.

It took me a moment to realize where I was, why I was on the floor, and why my heart was racing so fast. Looking up, I squinted my eyes in an attempt to make sense of the situation, then it all came back to me.

I closed my eyes because of the sun and I didn't realize I had walked into the road. And then when I looked up... My life had just flashed before my eyes. The car was a milli second away from ending me. Suddenly a pair of trousers appeared in my line of vision and then folded as its owner squatted down to my level.

"Are you ok, Miss?" he cocked his head, staring straight at me, "You seem absent-minded, I could have hit you if I wasn't driving at a normal speed."

Absent-minded? It was more than that. I stared at my inquisitor, studying his face. By now he had already removed his shades, revealing his blue eyes. I felt shivers as his blue orbs raked up and down my body in my seated position. Right, I was still sitting on the hard road.

"Are you injured anywhere?" he asked, moving his face closer to mine.

"Ohh umm... ehem... I'm fine. I'm just... " I took a deep breath as heat flushed my face. Looking behind the slick bun he put his hair in, I noticed the cars stuck behind his weren't happy being held up. "Could you help me up? I think those people are getting impatient."

He stood up as I stretched my hands out. Grabbing them, he pulled. "Thanks," I said, dusting my skirt clean. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his right hand slip into his pocket. "I'm fine really. You don't have to worry about me."

"You say that, but your face seems a bit...red," he said back, rendering me speechless.

_Damn me and my fair skin._

"Listen, why don't I just drop you off, to be safe. I wouldn't want you to walk into the road again and actually get yourself killed."

_But you're a stranger. And worse, a really good-looking stranger. What if you're a serial killer?_ I wanted to ask, but never got the courage to.

"I promise I'm not a serial killer," Smiling, he gestured to his car. My eyes widened. Before I could realize it, my legs were already moving, and I got into the car. As much as I hated to admit it, part of me was... happy? Who knows, might as well enjoy the moment. My legs were killing me anyway.

*~**~**~**~*

"I know I shouldn't be asking," he said with a cool voice. His eyes didn't leave the road for a second. "But why were you so distracted?"

"You're right, you shouldn't be."

I wasn't about to tell him my story, it's bad enough that I was in his vehicle. "At least tell me where you're going." He smiled as he turned his head and directed his eyes at me. I had stared at a pair of blue eyes in the mirror a lot of times but they weren't as deep as his. His beard hung low on his face, just skimming his jawline, giving him a rough, mysterious look.

"You just have to turn left up the street." Distracting myself from his beautiful face.

"Alright then," he continued as he turned back. Suddenly I became aware of all my troubles.

"You can stop here," I said, pointing to the brown building about twenty feet away. I got out of the car and turned around. Smiling, I bent my head low enough to see his angled face.

"Thanks for the ride," I said.

"You can thank me by not walking into the road carelessly, Miss ..."

I smiled sarcastically. "Nice try stranger, I'm not telling you my name."

"No harm in trying right," he shrugged as he put his hands on the steering. "I guess I'll see you around blondie." He smirked. And with that, he drove off.

Putting one foot in front of the other, I headed straight to the bar. This time, I did well to open my eyes. The bar wasn't exactly bad, it just wasn't a place I would have imagined to be a few months ago. It was old-fashioned but it wasn't dirty, not usually anyway. After two months of frantic search, I started to go places my dad would never go and this bar was a perfect choice.

I was lucky enough to get hired with no experience whatsoever and for that, I'm grateful to the owner. Old Jerry treated me so well the last thing I wanted to do was scare his customers away with my amazing sense of humor. So I avoided small talk as much as possible with all customers, except him....

That man was not even human. He never did anything to me, but there was just something about him. He was so hot, too hot for comfort. And for someone so outstanding, you'd think he was a lady's man or just someone who likes to play around.

But every time he comes to the bar-which was almost every shift I take-he always looked so... so... so what exactly? He showed no emotion at all so I couldn't read his expression. The few times I managed to catch a glimpse, his eyes always looked so empty. I just couldn't stand his negative aura, so me being who I am, I gave him the best talk of his life.

Unlike his real self, he was really fun to talk to in my imagination. Not like I've ever spoken to the real him. I'm not that bold. And today was my last day here, I might never see him again, and so I wanted to make it special.

There was something about him that made me want to listen to whatever was making that beautiful face so numb and expressionless. But whenever I walk up to him, my tongue freezes and all my lips can do is quirk up a weird smile while staring into his dark eyes.

But today, I was going to talk to him and convince him that I was not a creep that walked out of a horror movie.

Opening the door, I came feet to vomit at the bar entrance. I rolled my eyes wondering why I couldn't ever get a peaceful work day. One of the girls walked toward me with a mob, wearing casual clothes.

"All yours baby girl." She handed me the mob, winked, and left the building. Sometimes I hated this job.

Releasing a breath filled with expectations, I tried filling my lungs which was a bad idea since the air wasn't exactly fresh. Not that it's a 'no breathing zone', but no one liked the smell of vomit.

For me, tonight was going to be a painfully long shift...