Strong-willed, badass and bounded by the chains of an arranged marriage, Isabela Arias dreams of the freedom to live and love as she chooses.
Being sold to the Italian mafia wasn't exactly on Isabela's to do list...
As she's forced to navigate the r...
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Duty means respecting a set of rules and abiding by them. It takes a specific type of responsibility to follow through with the status quo — that's where matters turn morally gray. My only objective is to make the client happy, even if there's a sinking feeling in my lower region with every whack against the surface.
I have to go through with it.
She needs the money.
My stomach recoils every time. Everything is starting to make sense. Guarding the door, my body flinches at the sound of the savage impact on her skin. Damien mutters obscenities under his breath as another blow comes along like a wave. There's no other sound in the room.
I'm not the kind of person who gets shaken up easily, but I've seen the size of his fiance. She would need to have two versions of herself to even combat against her future husband. Yet I could hear a pin drop in there. Not one scream. Not one peep. She's tougher than she looks. But that means she's been conditioned to stay silent.
This was what she was trying to run away from?
"Your hand." Concern framed her delicate features. "It's bleeding."
There was something different about her the moment she stepped into my orbit. Definitely too sweet for this type of world. Innocent, naive-- she's misplaced herself into his chaotic deck of cards. I was clearly a stranger, yet she cared enough to ask for my status. My eyes fall to the fabric bound around my knuckles.
Why?
My attention tears away from the material on my knuckles and focuses on the flip of the lock on the other side of the door. I don't move. Damien exits through the doorway, looping his leather belt around his waistline. His sleeves are folded to his elbows as sweat dribbles down his forehead, causing his blonde hair to flop onto his forehead.
"I think she's learned her lesson." A sly smirk stretches across his face. "You should be grateful. If it wasn't for her, it would be your ass being beaten to a pulp."
I very much doubt that.
"I always do what's asked of me."
"Good!" His eyebrow perks up as he squeezes both of my shoulders. "Because I have an intriguing proposition for you." Damian pauses, shifting his gaze to the elder, gray-haired woman walking down the hallway. "Emilia, Isabela needs Dr. De Santis. Fetch him immediately."
Isabela.
Emilia bows midway, her hair bobbing back and forth. "Of course, Mr. Moltisanti."
Damien scoots us over to the privacy of the corner of the hallway. His employees meander through the hallway like any other day in their profession. He leans his elbow on the wall, pushing the strands off his face.
"Look, I already wired the million to your bank account, but." Damien pauses, pulling a page from his chest pocket. "I was thinking-- maybe we can make this permanent thing. These dumbasses don't know what they're doing. I need someone to watch over her. It's easy money. Besides, my gut tells me you're the guy for the job."
