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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"Is it noticeable?" Isabela asks, tilting her make-up-covered bruise on her cheek to face me. It's upsetting to witness how good Isabela is at covering her wounds from the outside world. No one should have a special delicacy for this. How can Damien live with himself? Taking advantage of a girl half his size.
He's a sneaking fucking rattlesnake.
After Isabela's little rouse during dessert, Damien tried to talk himself out of a corner for two hours straight before Nonna grew so disgusted she begged to go home. He earned another ear full from his mother to keep relationship issues in the bedroom like a regular couple. I'm curious about her relationship with his deceased father. Amid the chaos, Damien drowned gallons of alcohol.
He waited until everyone went to sleep and for me to be the only one awake — piece of shit. My dumbass left the post for thirty seconds to take a piss, and everything flipped upside down. Damien got about two good hits in before I tackled him to the ground, his brother running up the stairs to watch everything go down.
Lorenzo dragged his brother out by his legs, locking the door for Isabela's safety.
Damien's cooled off since then. Surprisingly.
Emilia spent five hours accessorizing Isabela in her bachelorette attire. Someway... Somehow, Isabela gets prettier by the day. There's not a day that goes by where I don't notice something new about her and obsessing over it. She's genuinely like no one I've ever met. It kills me to know I will walk her down the aisle to an abusive piece of shit in one day.
Isabela scoffs, toying with the veil in the middle of her bun. "Be honest... Do I look ridiculous?"
White lace sleeves mask the fresh bruises on her arms. The white bustier dress flows above her thigh, exposing the tan tint of her olive legs. Emilia went overboard with the long sleeve white gloves used for tea time, the pearl necklace, and the veil on her head. On anyone else, it could be seen as too much, but Isabela always looks beautiful in anything.
Even in her teddy-bear jammies.
My eyes drift across the acquired top level of the club, accessing every exit possible in case things turn to shit. "You look astonishingly perfect." My words aren't a lie or simply a phrase of encouragement. I genuinely can't keep a resting heartbeat around her. "Don't be so nervous. Everything is going to be fine."
Isabela sighs, chewing on her acrylic French tips. "That's easy for you to say. All you have to do is guard me. I haven't talked to any of these girls for longer than five minutes. What if I say the wrong thing again? I don't want a repeat of the Hanni and Everleigh situation."
The hand on her thigh is trembling like a leaf as she wrecks through the polish on her nail with her teeth. Isabela's brown irises flicker with stress, darting back and forth on the floor. Why make Isabela attend a bachelorette celebration is beyond me, but I'm not going to let her lose her mind because of it.
