Money, Money and Money - Part One

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Isabelle looks up and picks at her fingers.

Would it kill him to lighten up? Even the maids are nervous.

With a stoic expression and sharp eyes, her stomach ties knots. She hadn't done anything wrong. The memory of broken skin, silent tears, and bottled-up anger are fresh in her mind.

For as long as she can remember, her parents taught her that pain is love. As a child, all she could focus on were their words, offering silent prayers that it would stop. Funny how father is more concerned about public image than being an actual parent.

Matthew Cross. Known as the underdog of the corporate world, a typical rags to riches story. He started off as a young child selling towels on the street, slowly making his way up the ladder.

Isabelle likes to believe she takes after her mother more, but she and her father were more alike. From her dark hair to her complexion, the resemblance is obvious. Even with the wrinkles on his face, at times he acts more like a teenager than his daughter. Unlike him, she doesn't have a delicate ego.

"Your mother and I are proud of you, sweetheart," Matthew said. He puts down his cellphone and pulls a sheet of paper from his breast pocket.

Isabelle chokes on her coffee. Really? That quickly? She quickly pats her lips with a tissue and clears her throat. Her mother rubs her back and offers her a glass of water. If Samuel decided not come to their office, they wouldn't have known. She didn't expect him to do that, much less send rather expensive tokens of gratitude. Isabelle rubs the pendant in between her fingers.

"However, you placed yourself at risk. From now on you'll be under the careful eye of a, rather capable bodyguard." Her mother gushes, skimming through the papers.

Of course she'd be excited. Mother would love to brag about her children all day if she could.

Isabelle thinks of who would badger her. Tristan? Yeah, right. He's too busy with the many, many jobs on his list. There used to be a man who followed him around, his manager like he's some hotshot or what. Arrogant as ever. That so-called manager doesn't show up anymore.

"Plenty of dashing young men to choose from. Go on, dear." Her mother said. Matthew hands his daughter an envelope. No way is she reading each one. Do her parents think of her as some helpless toddler?

She looks at her mother. They have a silent conversation, communicating with subtle movements. Isabelle tucks her hair and squares her shoulders. Charlotte fans her face lightly and crosses her legs. Declined? Just great.

"How soon?" Isabelle folds her arms. The thought of having some greasy, buff, aged man following her 24/7 was unsettling. Hopefully, he wasn't a creep. It would be hilarious since he can't deny any request.

"Three hours from now." Her father answers. One of the housekeep takes away their cups.

She rolls her eyes. Why bother showing options, to begin with? Goodness. Whomever this man is, he's irrelevant. She'd pester him enough to have him resign within a day!

"I'm afraid that conflicts with my schedule." Isabelle snaps. She'd admit it was inconvenient, but their paranoia is misplaced.

What would some thug get from trying to kidnap her, if not a mysterious disappearance? They're hiding something. Again.

"Oh?" Her father raises an eyebrow.

"I will meet up with an old friend of mine." She said. She could say she made plans first and that it was their fault for pinning this onto her so suddenly. If not, a lie made up on the go would have to do.

"It's that handsome fellow from the party, isn't it?" Charlotte winks.

She acts like she hasn't met Tristan before. What exactly is her mother playing at? If Isabelle wanted to date him, she would have done so years ago back in highschool. She was infatuated with a girl in her class at the time, who she dated for a brief period of time and broke up with after. Thinking about how she cried her heart out, talking to Xingchen's fish, as she ate her sadness away, just makes her cringe now.

It is what it is.

"Absolutely not. Isabelle, sit down. You're not leaving." He folds his arms. Who is he to stop her? Isabelle is a grown adult fully capable of handling herself. There is nothing dangerous about meeting a friend in broad daylight. Not that her parents needed to know she went clubbing recently, but that wasn't the point.

She excuses herself, ignoring his angry yells. Her mother's giggling echoes throughout the walls, clearly enjoying this.

Give it ten minutes and he'd cave in, she'd make him some coffee. Then they watch some stupid movie together and fall asleep.

She calmly shuts the door, wondering about her outfit choices for today. After considering what would suit the date, she decides on a white off-shoulder dress. It matches her new pair of tan heels perfectly. They were rather uncomfortable, but no matter. She'd spend most of her time seated, anyway.

Isabelle places a tube of lipstick in her purse and stares at her reflection. Gorgeous as always. Her phone rings.

"Tannie? I'm doing my brows. Give me a moment." She lies. After a whole gallery's worth of pictures, Isabelle half-ran down the stairs and out the front porch. The maid sees her off, greeting her companion as well. A man leans on the hood of his car, a cigarette in his mouth.

He's wearing a white shirt paired with a navy blue blazer with pants to match. Isabelle feels touched that he put effort into being so patient. Best of all, they match today! He's always about standing out and expressing his style.

Isabelle has a skip in her step. She does a small twirl. He takes off his sunglasses, his pale blue eyes on her.

"Get back inside and change." He orders. What? She looks great! Isabelle couldn't tell what was going in his head.

"I can't help being this beautiful." She replies. The look on his face reminded her of a puppy seeing their owner after a while.

"Beautiful? Don't flatter yourself." He snorts. Isabelle slaps his arm. Fine then! She returns wearing a mini denim jacket over her white dress and Tristan opens the door for her. The smell of lavender car freshener and hair gel in the compartment makes her smile.

If Xingchen were here, it'd be as if they were back in high school, skipping last period to hangout.

She makes herself comfortable in the passenger seat, adding a dash of lip gloss to her sweet pink colored lips. Isabelle takes off her heels, stretching her legs on the dashboard. Now this is comfortable.

"Remember the guy I talked to you about on the phone?" She mentions, checking her phone. Now, what filter did Chloe use the other day? The lighting here is just perfect.

"You talk about plenty of guys. Which one?"

"Tristan." She raises an eyebrow. Yes, Isabelle does talk about them but has no stories to share. Her blonde, hot-headed companion had simply too many to tell for the life of him.

The second-hand embarrassment just from listening would be enough to make anyone blush.

"Now isn't a time to talk about my cousin, thanks." He rolls his eyes.

"Not Stephen! I mean the grumpy one with the uncle." She giggles, nudging his arm.

"The sourpuss?"

"Tannie, pay attention. Okay so the other day, he came by the bakery and got me a pretty necklace." Isabelle shows off the pendant she's wearing. With no way to tell tell if it would tarnish, she put a thin layer of clear polish. Better safe than sorry.

"And what, you fell into his arms and ran into the sunset?" Tristan laughs.

Isabelle pinches his arm and gushes, patting her cheeks as she giggles to herself. Oh, he's so dreamy! Her smile widens as her eyes light up. He shakes his head, a smile on his face.

"He said to call if I ever need anything. Isn't he such a thoughtful guy?" Isabelle said. Thinking about seeing Aaron again makes her heart flutter with excitement. She shows a picture of him.

"He's..." Tristan trails off. His eyes are on the road, waiting for the lights to turn green. He better not say he's ugly. Aaron is simply gorgeous! His ears turn pink.

"Tannie. Don't even think about flirting with him!" She gasps.

No way. That wouldn't be fair!

Tristan can have any man or woman wrapped around his finger easily, which is concerning more than impressive, but still. He gives her a look. Oh he totally will. It's inevitable.

"If you manage to get past two dates, I want to meet him." He parks the car. Then he'd go and whine about how his partner only lasted two minutes. Goodness. She pouts and turns away, her eyes glued to the side mirror.

"And have you scare him off? I think not!"

While she did appreciate he looks out for her, his constant interventions hurt her chances of having a love life. Is it really because he's concerned, or he gets jealous? Isabelle faces him and narrows her eyes.

"It's called an agreement. Naturally there are rules and some terms. All I do is lay it out." Tristan explained, a sly grin on his face. He finger-combs his hair.

"You don't make an agreement as you clean a knife, Tristan." Isabelle replies. No matter how he said it, it's a threat. Forgetting to clean? Please, he did that on purpose.

"It was pure coincidence I forgot to rinse it before he came." Tristan's grin is as wide as ever. And he's damn proud of it too! Idiot.

"I really liked Flynn too. But after you talked to him he cut me off." She rests her chin on her palm. A shame, really. She thought of introducing him to her parents. Tristan smiles and sneaks a picture, to which she immediately poses for. Anything for social media.

"We're here." He said. Isabelle looks at him with wide eyes. He nods slowly. He can't be serious.

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