DISCLAIMER: The story doesn't belong to me; the characters are property of S. Meyer and the plot belongs to Annalau Thank you so much for letting me share your story in English!

Gracias Laura, por darme esta oportunidad!

(Author's note at the end!)

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Prologue

I inhale slowly feeling that I have enough air in my rib cage.

Maybe it's not air I need, but courage to face what I'm about to do.

Then I fill myself with the necessary courage.

I turn the lock and the sound produced by the door causes an involuntary tremor in my body. My eyes try to adapt to the darkness of the room, quickly scanning the luxurious place that is impossible not to look at. The imposing bed that welcomes me is located to my left and in front of me, there is a large window covered with thin curtains through which the scarce light filters.

I swallow saliva.

I take three steps, my big heels stumble against each other causing the strap of my purse to fall from my shoulder, and with some clumsiness, I hold on to the door smoothing my short plaid skirt. At this moment my heart is thundering loudly in my chest.

With trembling hands I take off my trench coat, leaving it on the coat rack at the entrance. I'm shaking, I can't control myself.

I clear my throat.

"Go…Good night…" I stutter, looking stupid.

A sound of ice hitting each other catches my attention in the corner of the room: a man is sitting on the couch with a glass tumbler in his right hand. The guy is so big I'm scared, I also have a deep urge to turn around and walk away.

«Easy, Isabella, remember why you're here,» I think.

I think back to the instructions the man gave me other than to dress like a schoolgirl despite the immense Chicago cold. I want to roll my eyes at the memory of such idiocy.

I shake my head.

Ah, yes... I also remember him asking me for an oral before...

I inhale, popping a mint into my mouth.

I drop my bag on the bed and walk towards the guy I now know; he's wearing a dark t-shirt and jeans.

I can feel his gaze on me.

I shudder.

His eyes obscured by the poor visibility of the room don't allow me to admire his features, he must be someone disgusting, maybe he has acne or has onion breath.

Holy cow! Maybe he hasn't even taken a shower and with the cold, it's getting in the city that's more likely.

I don't want to think. I don't want to feel.

I get down on my knees tucking my hair behind my ears. With trembling fingers I unzip his fly touching his phallus for the first time - I reach around it - the guy tenses up and his breathing becomes noisy.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asks in a somewhat weak grunt as my mouth engulfs him in warmth and wetness.

Loads of memories come flooding back like flashes in my head.

It's me and my perfect life in Forks, spending time with my best friends and my boyfriend Tyler. My only boyfriend my whole life, who I once swore to give my first time...

A tear escapes my left eye as I remember Tyler feeling so disloyal to our love.
Today I am here six months after not seeing him. I'm with a stranger who I sold myself to for a hundred thousand dollars.

A retch tackles me as his member hits my throat. He is big and thick, I can't fully embrace him.

The moment I feel his hand on my head setting the pace I want to cry, I really want to. what have I become?

He moans laboriously. He's thrusting his hips against my mouth and my tongue tastes a strange, thick liquid. It's... it's... his cum, I want to vomit.

He pulls on my hair making me let go of his penis from the pain I'm feeling.

I fall on my buttocks as he throws me away from him.

Scared; I wrap my legs around him hugging them tightly.

The guy stands up and the glass falls to the floor shattering into a thousand pieces.

I tremble.

He staggers from side to side cursing between whispers. He is drunk.

"Since when?" he asks, slurring his words. "Since when are you selling out?"

What?! Now it turns out he's already forgotten.

"We're not here to talk about my life, sir," I bow my head, hiding my face between my knees. "We came to an agreement: you'll have me for one night and I'll get my money."

"You're just a brat," he growls, "How can you humiliate yourself like this?

"My motives are none of your business, Mr. Carlisle."

I let out a shriek as he drags me away. He forces me to stand and I feel small beside him.

His fingers around my arms are hurting me. He shakes my body hard, then one of his large hands encompasses my face and forces me to look at him.

His breath makes me dizzy. He smells too much alcohol and I am inhaling his foul odor.

With his face just inches from me, I notice he has a prominent beard covering his cheeks, his lips are thin and he also has a scowl highlighting the vein on his forehead.

"Get out!" He pulls me at his will, like a rag doll he throws me out of the door and I fall to the floor. "I don't want to see you again!"

"I want my money!" I scream, no matter if I'm still on the floor" You, promised I would have the money tonight! Give me my money!"

He throws my trench coat over me and slams the door literally in my face. Angry, humiliated, and hurt, I stand up and start pounding on the door:

"You damned old dirty bastard! You don't know who you've stumbled upon. I'll get everything from you and I swear you're going to regret it."

Sounds of glass crashing inside are heard.

"You bastard dog," I keep shouting, still pounding on the poor door. "I'll finish you off, you old bastard!"

Silence.

"Do you hear me...?! I'll finish you and your damned reputation!"

Tired and almost voiceless from screaming, I give up. Tears run down my cheeks as I remember that the deadline is approaching.

"You have to come with me, miss," says a man approaching me, "I'll show you out."

He is about to take my arm; I pull back, avoiding his touch.

"Don't worry, I know the way out."

I raise my head and walk to the elevator. I put on my trench coat and remember I don't have my purse. I turn around but the man forbids me to pass.

"Step aside," I say, "I'll go get my purse.

"I have orders not to let you pass," says the dark-haired man. He looks like some kind of bodyguard, tall and stocky. He looks like he's trying to intimidate me. "If you don't leave right now I'll call the police."

"Go to hell, you little oaf!" I show him my middle finger and he laughs. "Tell your boss I'm going to take him down because I'm underage and he bought me," I lie.

And I feel better when his bright white smile fades.

I'm Isabella Marie Swan, I'm eighteen years old and I'm realizing that I just got into big trouble with one of the most important businessmen in the country.

Carlisle Cullen.


Hello, my people from fanfiction. How are you doing? Good? Well, here's another translation I've been waiting to bring you guys. You will love it.

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