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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A waxy white candle rests on my vanity. It's down to its shortest length. If it wasn't already obvious, this was my favorite candle. It's the sweet scent of a black cherry merlot. I glide the matchstick against the side, tickling my ears with the sound of a spark. Covering the match, I hover it over the stub, and it emerges into flames.
The yellow-tint flame surf to the right and left, burning the wax in the center. It's mesmerizing to observe in the pure darkness, but I couldn't shut the lights now. The faint scent of cherry carries to the middle of the room.
Kneeling on the carpet, I use my pencil to mark the number on the ruler to get the perfect measurement. The spike of the pencil snaps on the cardboard, irking deep into my soul. I fling the pencil across the room and use a sharpie instead. Nothing can go wrong with a marker. But instead of measuring the area, I think the ruler was traded in for a magnet since I'm being pulled in Julian's direction.
His unexpected advice flamed a fire under my butt. It's true. My situation is unfortunate, but I can't spend an eternity feeling sorry for myself. While this arranged marriage freaking sucks balls, I do gain something by inheriting the Moltisanti name-- money. I need to be wiser than Damien if I ever want to come out of this, and what's better than developing connections with everyone?
If all I had to do was kiss a bit of butt to get a college degree, then I will. With Daddy, I was homeschooled since he wouldn't want a boy to stick their claws into me. Or maybe he hoped I would remain as innocent-minded as I was when I was five. It wasn't until Mika took me in that I experienced an actual school atmosphere.
The students sucked, but I loved to fill my brain with new things. Like a typical teenager, I would never admit to Mika how much I really loved going to school. It wasn't until Diablo sold me I realized how much I didn't appreciate the strings Mika pulled to get me into a private school. For the first months, the only activities I had was to go to the library or the park.
Once Mika moved in with us, Damien experimented with the idea of school until he finally enrolled me. It was brutal. I was a sixteen-year-old with the academic level of an eighth grader-- I couldn't do anything. Then I ran away, and it was hard to maintain an acceptable GPA when I had to be under the radar.
I took Julian's advice to heart.
Literally.
For two weeks, I've been doing everything Damien asked of me with a polite smile. Not one complaint. A few times, I was positive I was going to crumble and give him a piece of my mind, but I haven't. I'm risking my dignity, but on the bright side, Damien hasn't laid a hand on me. The marks on my back are nearly faded.
And once I complete this model, I will give Damien a fifty-slide presentation on why I should get my GED. It's relatively vigorous. I can't leave anything out. This might be my only chance to convince him, so I'll be able to attend the spring semester for college. My positive etiquette has Damien over the moon-- drinking and getting high in clubs, gambling money like a madman, filling my room with bags of luxury brands and escorts.
