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 skirt swats me straight in my face when I open the door.
"I'm changing!" Isabela screams, plunging to the side of her bed to shield her body from me. "Did your parents ever teach you manners like knocking?"
I cock a brow. "I've been knocking for the last fifteen minutes. Maybe if you didn't blast your music, you could hear." I press the power button off on her Bluetooth speaker. "You're going to be late for your first day of courses."
Isabela huffs. "Okay. Okay. Just five more minutes."
Knowing Isabela, if I shut the door and disappeared into the den, she wouldn't be out until her sessions were over. Her behavior has been over the top and energetic for the past week. I would say she was unbearable, but I take a week of her smiling over a week of Isabela crying any day of the year.
I glance at my watch as I lean against the door frame, facing the hallway and giving Isabela the privacy she needs. "Five minutes. I'm timing you."
She groans, stomping across her room. "It's uncomfortable to change, knowing you're right there."
Forty-five seconds went by.
"What's taking you so long to put on some clothes? It's just school."
"Just school?" Isabela scoffs. "It's more than just school! Finally, Damian has given me some freedom to go to school and live an ordinary life as an eighteen-year-old. I need to make a good impression."
"Two minutes."
"Shitzus!" The pound of her footsteps travels to my ears. "Okay. Okay. Just a squeeze of perfume and done! What do you think?"
I turn around, my feet glued to the ground.
My heart forgets to beat. I feel piping hot. My trousers get tighter by the second, and my stomach clenches with a million knots. Isabela does a little twirl, flaunting her pink bow crop top, thigh-high socks, and flowery trim white skirt. The ribbon on her neck and wrist collide perfectly with the outfit. It's a mixture of sexy and cute, wrapped in one. She flashes her sweet, precious sm-. No. No. What the fuck is my mind thinking?
After the initial shock, I suck in a lungful of air, adjust my spin, and turn my attention to the door. "We should get going."
Isabela lunges forward, walking side-by-side with me. "You are so grumpy." She pouts, her finger toying with the ends of the ribbons on her wrist. "Can't even give a girl a simple compliment."
Am I the only one bothered in the lower region department? She strolls by me, acting like she isn't the most beautiful person to exist. There was an infinity of phrases swimming around in my head to say to her, but every single one crosses the barrier.
The institution is merely a ten-minute walk from Isabela's cottage. Blood orange leaves hang from the tree branches. Rotten pumpkins and skeletons decorate the forefront of enterprises. A gust of wind sends Isabela's skirt whirling, causing her to push the material down to keep from flashing everyone.
