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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"Turn in a circle."
My lips jut out as I exhale, obeying Damien's command, and spinning around in a circle. When did my life turn into a nightmare? My eyes roam over the lolita navy blue and black plaid dress through the mirror, hiding any curves I have. Emilia climbs the podium to fix the white collar and bow on my neckline, straightening them out.
I'm a minute away from biting Emilia's hand off with my bare teeth.
"What do you think, sir?" Emilia asks, bowing a full forty-five degrees.
Damien's tongue slips out of his mouth, coating his lips with a moist, thick layer of saliva. Hunger swirls in his black irises. My stomach churns with utter disgust. Maybe it's a good thing Damien is restricting my food intake because I would've thrown it all up right now. The undigested apple almost makes a special appearance on the floor when Damien fixes his boner.
"Everyone is going to want a taste of you," Damien says, his voice coated in sheer desire as he treks towards the podium, lacing our fingers together. "Don't worry, tesoro. Everyone knows you're mine, and mine only."
My lips curve to a scowl. "The greatest news I've heard all day."
Damien tightens his grasp on my hands, smashing my knuckles together. "Don't be so mouthy, Isabela. I don't want us fighting during our engagement party. Oh, by the way, Emilia, have you seen Isabela's ring?"
Emilia rushes over to express an impressive 'ooo'-- peering at the vintage rose-gold Barcelona oval cut. Jealousy seeps off of her like a permanent odor. She loves to disguise herself in a sweet old lady persona, but I know she wishes to be in my shoes. Why? I have no idea. There's nothing attractive about Damien.
If only she knew, I would gladly switch places with her.
Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if Damien slept with her when he was going through his teenage phase. According to the snickers around the house, they wouldn't put it past him. While Emilia and Damien gush over the ring, my eyes float toward the area of the room that's pro-fusing with masculinity.
Him.
Julian Lui.
I would say he seems bored out of his mind, but that would involve him showcasing any sign of emotions on his face. His fancy attire clings to his muscular frame, filling out and expanding every inch of material on his body. There's a bud in his ear in the event of an emergency and a pistol in his holster. An elegant tatted rose with a long stem starts from his pointer finger to his wrists, with a fire brewing off the petals.
Seems romantic.
Along with the unfilled tattooed heart on his ring finger.
Odd.
He doesn't ring me as a romantic guy.
Even though we haven't uttered a word since our encounter a week ago, it's impossible to act as if he isn't in the room. I can't even be in the bathroom for more than ten minutes without letting him in. As if showering in front of Emilia wasn't uncomfortable enough, now add an annoyingly attractive man in the mix-- a nightmare.
