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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Bliss.
Euphoric.
Glee.
My eyes flutter open to the blazing sunlight peeking through the curtains. A cold sensation lingers on my necklace. My fingers skim over the pointy wings of the butterfly on my necklace, smiling instantly. So, it wasn't a dream? Julian gave me the most magical moment a girl could ask for.
My gaze falls to the empty crinkled spot on the bed.
How depressing.
Julian can't even spend the night because of Damien. It's bad enough we fucked with his unconscious body on the floor — the universe was looking out for us because that could've gone a completely different way. Random objects from the dresser decorate the floor in a mess of clusters-- Damien.
Yawning, I stretch my arms over my head, curling my toes until a relaxed sigh departs from my lips. A slight ache lingers on my limbs from how incredible last night was. Sex really does change someone because I never felt better-- and so freaking horny. It must be Julian's charm.
Once I grab a fresh pair of clothing and the white ribbons, I stalk into the bathroom, turning on the showerhead with streaming water. The scorching tide of water washes away any evidence of sex from the night before. I hum to the tune of a random song about being a dangerous woman, acting as if I'm in a music video in the shower.
Who would've thought I'll be this happy after my wedding day? I sure didn't. Gosh, I need to hurry up and go downstairs because I'm missing Julian. He's my tree, my personal source of oxygen-- I need him to live. It's so embarrassing to admit I let him tattoo himself into my soul, but it's how I feel-- I can't help it.
After spending an extra few minutes on my makeup routine, I skip down the grand flight of stairs, nearly tumbling on the last step. My eyebrows knot together in fog as I find the kitchen completely vacant. An unfinished glass of orange juice is the only evidence of someone being in the house.
I shrug.
Maybe Damien has Julian on front-door duty. It's his way of getting alone time with me.
My thigh clenches together when I revisit my memories from last night of Julian, thrusting his cock down my throat. Is it too early to be horny again? Something is fudging wrong with me. It's just-- it's been a while since everything in my life worked out the way I wanted to.
Fairytales aren't precisely always reality, but truth be told, I always envisioned myself as Cinderella. My father and Damien mirroring the evil stepsisters and mother. Years of relentless torment and abuse-- finally, my prince appears randomly on my doorstep. My foot fits perfectly in his shoe, and he wants to be with me.
