chapter 6.

edward

As I feel my heart hammer against my ribcage, I'm wishing I had accepted the wine refill. Then again, maybe that wouldn't have made the best impression on Isa. I almost snort out loud. Impression. Why in Fuck's name would I even need to make a good impression. This is her job. It's her bread and butter, liking people. God, Cullen, you really are pathetic.

I drove myself here, not in the mood for Alistair's questions on the ride to the restaurant. He'd have seen the nerves, read them right off my face. At least driving will take my mind off of keeping conversation with my now two passengers. I don't really know how to act, what to do. This isn't planned. It would have been just me when I drove home after this poor excuse of a family dinner. The worst of all? I'm still hungry. At the table, the anxiety got the better of me. It wrapped it's hands around my throat, punched me in the gut. I barely got half my main course down. And their portions hardly accommodate to a grown man's appetite.

I press the valet a fifty in his hand as he dangles the keys to the Rolls right in front of me. With another nod, I stop at the entrance of the restaurant.

They haven't seen me yet, clearly too wrapped up in conversation. Not knowing what it's about almost makes my eye twitch. I grip the steering wheel tightly, my fingers wrapping around the smooth, black leather. Taking a deep breath, I observe the most important woman in my life, who's locked her arm into the one of the woman I hired to deceiver her. It's for Mother's own good. She worries too much as it is. This is at least one less thing on her mind. If all goes well.

Isa spots the car first. Her caramel eyes glossing over the Rolls, lighting up. The Ghost is my personal favorite. And it's the one I always drive when I'm by myself.

"Sit with me, darling." My mother ushers Isa inside, next to her on the back seat. She keeps her gaze on the ceiling, eyes sparkling. My heart speeds up a little when Isa locks eyes with me, the rearview mirror betraying my lurking. She smiles, sending tingles down my spine.

"Where to, Mother?" I ask after clearing my throat. "The house, or do you have other plans?"

"It's seven p.m., of course I have other plans, my love." Mom winks at me, one hand going through stray locks of hair. "Sue is hosting wine club at her place."

Sue…which one is that, again?

As if she can read minds, Mom chuckles, and reminds me it's Doctor Wives' Night. Sue is married to renowned neuro-surgeon Dr. Clearwater. He's out of the country himself, performing surgery on an oil tycoon in the Middle East. The one in the Lennox Hill townhouse my mother loves so much.

"I hope this isn't too much of an inconvenience, sweetheart," Mom says again. She's typing on her phone, nails clacking onto the screen. "I know a young couple has better things to do on a night like this then driving around town for wine club."

"It's quite alright, Esme," Isa says. "We were planning on staying in, enjoy that beautiful Central Park Tower and it's signature view while binging on a sitcom."

Of course Isa knows exactly what to say. That even sounds plausible.

"Ah, yes…wonderful condo, isn't it?" I roll my eyes at Mother's words.

"It is the most beautiful residence in the world, don't downplay it, now!" Isa says jokingly.

"Best thing I've have been able to convince him to do, yet." Mom sounds too happy. I don't hear what she whispers to Isa, next.

Esme Cullen-Platt has no boundaries. She's a hippie at heart, lost in the trenches of Billionaires' Row. She badgered me to make a decent investment for years before I signed the papers at CPT. Apparently, every single thing came with the condo, and of course Mother was familiar with the designer.

I pull up at the Clearwater residence, and she leaves with a wink and the promise of seeing us soon. There's a lump in my throat, but I swallow it down, breathing a sigh of utter relief as she closes the door.

"Tough crowd," Isa says from the back seat. She rolls her eyes, stretches her arms behind her back. "But I think you're in the clear."

She makes me chuckle.

"I do believe I've heard her offer my grandmother's ring to you, thank you for the help." I don't really know what else to say. What is there to say? I fumble with the touch screen until Chopin fills the speakers. But it doesn't calm me down. It reminds me of my childhood. Of my father's expectations. So I press shuffle quickly. I need to update this Spotify shit.

"We're, heh?" Isa responds.

I nod, absentmindedly.

"Anything is better than another façade, right?"

She frowns, not getting it. Because you didn't explain it, dumbass.

"You mean an old-money legacy not liking classical music?"

"I have a past that included hours of classical piano every week, my father scrutinizing every move my fingers made. Safe to say that those numbers in the playlist are for when he rides my car with me."

Isa nods.

"So, how often is that?"

I almost laugh out loud, feeling silly.

"Once every few years, give or take."

She leans forward, unbuckled in her seat.

"Poor boy…" she sighs. "Why do you want to please that man so desperately?" She shakes her head, thick tresses of dark silk rusting against the leather seats. "Pardon my French, Mr. Cullen, but your dad is an ass."

Now I do laugh. And it feels good. It feels damn spectacular.

"Where to, Miss?" I ask, turning my head, meeting her curious gaze. She fills me with warmth, familiarity. It's different from the interactions I usually have with women. I either see them in a professional setting, at work, or I meet one, plan in motion, no real small talk. This is different. It's interestingly different.

"I don't know if you do have the rest of the evening off, but do you, by any chance, want to split a pizza with me?"

I laugh, again, smiling in a way that makes my cheeks hurt.

"I thought you'd never ask."