Isabella Just after the boy met eyes with me in my dream, it faded into another one. This time, it was a memory I was fond of. I played with Uncle Rodrigo, who enjoyed tossing me high up into the sky before catching me and tickling me. Uncle Rodrigo mostly spoke in Italian; his reason was that he wanted us children to get used to the mother tongue. It was his consistent actions that made me able to understand Italian with ease and speak it as well. Back then, Cassandra was not so twisted. She was a sweet girl, except it was clear that her father had spoiled her a little too much. Sometimes, it was evident in the way I would wake up and find some of my shoes missing, only to see them on Cassandra's feet. For a while, I let it slide, and then my mother spoke to me harshly. It was then I confessed to my mother that I suspected who was stealing my shoes. Especially when my mother didn't believe it until she did, and told me to talk to my friend. I spoke to Cassandra that day and felt

Isabella I woke up to the sight of Damon's hard chest. My eyes were face-to-face with his bronze skin and the light tufts of hair that I never knew were there. The hair was a dark brown color but seemed to blend into his skin, making it nearly impossible to see from afar. "Fascinating," I thought to myself as I poked at one strand. My eyes went to the tattoo on his chest. It was the tattoo of an angel holding a sword and standing under what seemed to be a tree. I didn't understand how the tattoo artist managed to capture it, but it looked amazing. My hand slowly traced around the beams of light that were tattooed with gold and the sword that was the same color as the being. Just as my finger was about to trace the wings, I heard Damon mumble, "It's ticklish," he said with a deep voice. "And I'm sorry," I said. He smiled and suddenly rolled over until I was beneath him, his weight gently pressed against me. He crouched up and placed his arms on either side of my head. "What are

Isabella Suddenly, as his mouth once again made contact with my breast, there was a knock on the door. I couldn't decide if I wanted to feel relief or anger, but I knew I felt something conflicted. Damon grumbled about interruptions and how he would tear off the person's head as he put me down beside him. I quickly pulled down my shirt and pulled up my trousers before arranging myself so I would look presentable. The person who had been knocking stepped in before Damon said so, making me wonder who they could be. It just so happened to be Julian. Julian looked better than he did the last night when I saw him. His face still looked swollen, but most of the blackness around his eye and the swelling had reduced, making him look like a different person. Damon, on the other hand, looked like he did before a fight. Focused, with his eyebrows drawn together. His lips were set into a thin line as his eyes darted back and forth between me and Julian. He looked like he was about to fight. I

Damon"I don't understand why you are feeling attached to this girl," the woman said. "Her existence is an attack on your dynasty. Her existence is a question to the legitimacy of your rule."If Martino was power hungry, perhaps he would listen to his wife. If I was like the Rodrigos, I would definitely listen. But Esmeralda didn't understand something. She didn't know that I had taken the mafia throne on instruction. But she didn't need to know. After all, she and her husband would be dying shortly.The snake woman seated in the middle of both companies looked at me and cleared her throat. She scribbled something on a note and passed it over to me.In elegant words, it read: "If anything happens to the Rivaldis, there's a chance that all of the mafia in Italy will come after you. They are here under the protection of the the Don of Rome."I crumpled the paper when I was done and tossed it over my shoulder. "I don't like repeating myself," I said. "The Montenegros are the rightful own

Isabella Julian's face remained a mask of strength. In fact, if anything, he looked as though he was ready to pull me out and run away with me. I shook my head at him, a silent warning, and decided to tell him. "If you try anything funny, you're going to get hurt," I warned Julian. He didn't like the sound of that. He grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the door. His grip was strong, and it felt as though it would bruise my hand. "Julian, stop!" I yelled. Once we left the room and came into the passageway, I had made so much noise that Paula stepped out of her room. She looked disheveled and cute to a certain point. I wondered why Julian didn't find her attractive. Instead, he had pushed his emotions toward the wrong place. I realized that perhaps Julian had always liked me, but I never saw it. Maybe one day he planned to ask me out, but he never did, even though we had known each other for a couple of years. "Julian, stop," I said, putting more force into my words, hoping he wo