"Turn in a circle."

My lips jut out as I exhale, obeying Damien's command, and spinning around in a circle. When did my life turn into a nightmare? My eyes roam over the lolita navy blue and black plaid dress through the mirror, hiding any curves I have. Emilia climbs the podium to fix the white collar and bow on my neckline, straightening them out.

I'm a minute away from biting Emilia's hand off with my bare teeth.

"What do you think, sir?" Emilia asks, bowing a full forty-five degrees.

Damien's tongue slips out of his mouth, coating his lips with a moist, thick layer of saliva. Hunger swirls in his black irises. My stomach churns with utter disgust. Maybe it's a good thing Damien is restricting my food intake because I would've thrown it all up right now. The undigested apple almost makes a special appearance on the floor when Damien fixes his boner.

"Everyone is going to want a taste of you," Damien says, his voice coated in sheer desire as he treks towards the podium, lacing our fingers together. "Don't worry, tesoro. Everyone knows you're mine, and mine only."

My lips curve to a scowl. "The greatest news I've heard all day."

Damien tightens his grasp on my hands, smashing my knuckles together. "Don't be so mouthy, Isabela. I don't want us fighting during our engagement party. Oh, by the way, Emilia, have you seen Isabela's ring?"

Emilia rushes over to express an impressive 'ooo'-- peering at the vintage rose-gold Barcelona oval cut. Jealousy seeps off of her like a permanent odor. She loves to disguise herself in a sweet old lady persona, but I know she wishes to be in my shoes. Why? I have no idea. There's nothing attractive about Damien.

If only she knew, I would gladly switch places with her.

Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if Damien slept with her when he was going through his teenage phase. According to the snickers around the house, they wouldn't put it past him. While Emilia and Damien gush over the ring, my eyes float toward the area of the room that's pro-fusing with masculinity.

Him.

Julian Lui.

I would say he seems bored out of his mind, but that would involve him showcasing any sign of emotions on his face. His fancy attire clings to his muscular frame, filling out and expanding every inch of material on his body. There's a bud in his ear in the event of an emergency and a pistol in his holster. An elegant tatted rose with a long stem starts from his pointer finger to his wrists, with a fire brewing off the petals.

Seems romantic.

Along with the unfilled tattooed heart on his ring finger.

Odd.

He doesn't ring me as a romantic guy.

Even though we haven't uttered a word since our encounter a week ago, it's impossible to act as if he isn't in the room. I can't even be in the bathroom for more than ten minutes without letting him in. As if showering in front of Emilia wasn't uncomfortable enough, now add an annoyingly attractive man in the mix-- a nightmare.

"Tesoro," Damien says, alerting my attention away from Julian. "I need to go help Mama set up. Julian will bring you to the venue in two hours. It's our engagement party, so lighten up and so, help me god if you fuck this u-."

"Yeah. Yeah. I get it," I reply in an emotionless tone.

Finally! I'm yearning for an hour of me time. Emilia escapes through the exit as Damien fills Julian in on the details of tonight's special events. Hatred invades my bones like a disease as I glare into the mirror. The fudging ribbons on my pigtails, man! Hastily, I rip them out of my hair, ruining the perfect curtain bangs on my forehead.

How does Damien's outfit choice get more and more conservative with every passing day? While I don't want to flash my breast and ass at Damien and his mob friends, I want to wear an outfit that feels like me. All my choices are in Damien's hands. I can't even decide what I want for dinner.

I'm losing a sense of reality.

I'm losing myself.

It's my engagement-- my party.

Don't I get a choice in what to wear?

Pulling my hair out of the pigtails, I throw on the hair ties on my wrists and peek in my walk-in closet. Most of my wardrobe has been updated with Damien's recent craving, but I managed to tuck away some of Mika's clothing. She's my role model-- strong, cold-blooded, and cunning.

Everything I could wish to be.

Her life made her that way, but I'm stuck in a carousel.

The same and same situation again and again.

My heart settles on a raven black split thigh halter maxi dress sporting a sweetheart neckline. It's scandalous. Dragging the dress out of the closet, I overlay it over my frame as I imagine how it would look on me. My curves aren't as defined as Mika, but I have a piece of Latina in me-- at least, that's what I fooled myself into believing.

"What are you doing?" Julian shatters our long game of the silent treatment.

Spinning on my foot, I face him and tilt my head to the side. "What does it look like? I'm experimenting."

Julian blinks. "If we are a second late, Damien wi-."

"Take a fudging chill pill," I snort, unbuttoning the collar on my chest. "I won't keep you away from your master. I know how much happier you're when he's around."

Julian's jaw ticks. "I'm warning you for your own good." He thuds up the stairs, reaching the podium, which gives me the extra boost to reach his eye level. "Damien isn't going to fucking put a hand on me. He can try, but he'll fail. But nothing is going to stop him from hurting you."

I pout, toying with him. "Aw, for a second, I thought you actually cared. Don't you dare stand there and pretend that you care about what happens to me! You're not my father, and so isn't Damien. So, kindly fudge off."

He rakes his fingers through his pitch-black locks, causing the bandanas on his head to bob. "I don't get you, Miss Arias. Why make matters harder for yourself? All you have to do is listen to him, and everything will be fine."

I crackle, absolutely mind-blown to hear those words leave his mouth. "You're an idiot if you actually believe that." Stomping away, I jump into the dressing room and tear the lolita dress off my body. "It's not your job to get me. Damien will always find a reason. I can follow your advice and do as he says, but he will still abuse me. Nothing will change the result."

Silence expands through the room like helium in a balloon. Quiet enough to hear a pin drop. Frustration swirls through my body. What's freaking worse is that I feel like sitting in the corner and crying my little heart out. Why is something as simple as choosing a dress so fudging hard? Why do I need to be considerate of Damien's feelings?

I sniffle.

I'm getting so worked up over something ridiculous.

Tears prick at my eyes, but I inhale them back in. I refuse to cry, and I refuse to comply with Damien's wants. If he's going to marry me, he will have to drag me down the aisle by my hair. After removing the bra straps from my shoulders, I squeezed myself into the halter maxi dress. The black fabric splits on both sides of my leg, revealing my olive skin to my hips, and leaving very little to the imagination.

To complete the look, I thrust my hair into a messy bun, growing a sweat from the excruciating, long process. A few strands stay out of the bun, framing my features. For the first time in a while, my heart bounces around in my ribcage-- for a good reason. I look like a freaking goddess. I don't care how conceited it comes off, but it's true.

If only it wasn't for the ribbons on my neck and wrist.

Wounds inflicted by myself.

As I feed into my delusional thoughts, I spin around, holding the side of the fabric with both hands, and gape into the mirror. My stomach constricts at the glimpse of the freshly raw scars on my back from Damien's punishment. I've gotten so good at dissociating myself from my body. Damien didn't hold back. He wanted to break me, but I didn't give him the enjoyment. I took every lash in silence and courage.

Why don't I show everyone the real man Damien Moltisanti is?

Pushing the curtain to the side, my heels clink against the marble floors as I strut over to Julian. I toss Damien's dress in Julian's face and beeline for the exit. It might've been a bit juvenile, but I don't care. And apparently, neither does he because he doesn't warrant a reaction. We are back to playing the silent game.

In two long strides, Julian shields the front of my frame and inspects the surroundings. A new exclusive Rolex decorates Julian's wrist, illuminating the intricate designs of his tattoos. Damien's capos gape in my direction, unable to hide their interest in my new makeover.

Mika was right.

A strange type of feeling exists when you know every man in the room is wrapped around your finger, proving how inferior they're to us. I don't know how to explain it, but I don't feel like a little girl anymore. I feel like the world is in my hands. All I need to do is spin it accordingly, and everything will go my way.

Julian opens the door to the Ferrari and pushes the long trail into the car, closing the door after double-checking. Peering into the rearview mirror, I fix my smudged glittery, pigmented pink gloss and pat my lips together. Julian's woodsy, mossy scent invades my nose when he settles in the car, his shoulders a meter away from me.

He alters the rearview mirror. "Are you sure about this?"

"About what?"

Through the mirror, his eyes sweep up and down. "I'm not one to judge, but I want you to be doing this because you want to. Not because Damien will lose his shit the minute, he sees you."

Perching over the chair rest, I lay my chin in the crook of his shoulder and stare into his oceanic irises. "My decision has nothing to do with infuriating Damien. What do I get from that? Another beating?" I sheepishly scoff.

"Your undergarments are showing," Julian says, shifting the car into drive.

"That's impossible."

His eyebrows bunch up together. "Why?"

My thumb pad trails over his jawline, tilting his face to collide with my gaze. He exhales, watching me, eyes half-lidded with a yearning. "Because I'm not wearing any."

Julian's hands clench against the steering wheel as he turns into the street, blasting through three red lights. Maybe he isn't invincible to the power of women. Crossing my legs like a lady, I flee to the back of the car and pop a bottle of champagne. Fuzz overflows, spilling onto the Ferrari's floor as I pour myself a glass.

If I'm going to survive a night with Damien and his family and friends, I'm going to need to be a pinch tipsy. The neighborhood Julian turns into is vibing with my current feelings, partying and drinking on their front lawns. I've always hated suffering through family gatherings with my own family, and I doubt Damien's will be any better.

By the time Julian screeches in front of the venue, I've downed three glasses of champagne and instantly feel the fuzzy effects on my fingertips. I accidentally burp, filling the air with bubbles of alcohol as I explode into hysterical laughter. This is so bad. I should've stopped at one.

Wind whistles in when Julian opens the door, and I use the car seat as a boost to get onto my two feet. It goes painfully sour in seconds as I stumble over my feet and cling to Julian's tuxedo. His eye widens with panic since my weight drags him down, and he swiftly reacts by holding onto my waist.

"Oh, shitzu!" I burst into a giggling frenzy, my stomach clenching from the intensity.

Julian's nose scrunches. "You reek of alcohol."

"Oh, really?" I reply sassily through my giggles.

His fiery touch around my waist smears into my skin, making my head spin along with the alcohol. I really do loathe this man, but I guess alcohol really does affect brain chemistry because I'm bypassing all the red flags and focusing on his thick, plump lips.

"No, no," Julian says, using the boost from my ass to throw me over his shoulder like a floppy fish and sit me down on top of the car. My heart flares when he grips my chin in his hands-- his eyes roaming over my features. "Miss Arias, you seriously can't be drunk right now. We can't have you be drunk and in this outfit."

I slowly nod. "I know. I know. Oh, my snowballs! What am I going to do? Is it that obvious?"

"You want the truth or a lie?"

That's all the answer I need.

As I'm trying to come down from my dazed state, Julian scoots his thumb under my bottom lip and removes the excess gloss. My chest tightens. His gaze clashes with mine just as he finishes, and he pulls aside, facing away from me. My cheeks blaze like I've been sunburned, and I can't decipher if it's because of Julian or the alcohol.

Julian exhales. "We can just show up later."

I convulse my head. "No! I'm not dragging you down with me. As long as I'm here on time, then you're on his good side."

His chin flexes. "I don't care about being on his good side. My priority is keeping you safe and away from harm, and if I let you go in, then Damien will harm you."

Hopping off the car, I fail to balance on my six-inch heels and drop to the concrete ground, holding onto his cuff. "It's not your job to watch out for me. You have to make Damien happy, and trust me-- he will be a lot happier if I show up on time."

My skin tingles like a live wire when Julian places one hand on my lower back and another in my hand to help me up. "Miss Arias, you can't even walk."

"I'll be fine," I assure him, staring at the passage to the front of the venue, watching the world spiral a million miles per hour.

Shitzus.

He shoots me a warning glare. Exhaling deeply, I flutter my eyes closed and shake my limbs as I get in the zone. I gasp when Julian securely fits my arm around his biceps like a vine and supports the bulk of my weight. We lock eyes for a second. His soft, conveying support while his lips remain hardened. I want to think he's maybe not so bad, but what if that's his intention?

"Count as you walk. It helps keep your posture upward. Always say the third thought in your head, and don't giggle like a toddler." Julian advises as I press the knuckle of my fingertips into his firm, built stomach. "You will get food in your system and hope it's enough before Damien tries to steal you away. Got it?"

"Yes, Mr. Lui." I crack into laughter for a split second before doing a one-eighty and dropping my smile. "Starting now."

Taking his advice, I count in my head with every step, focusing on walking like a normal human-being while Julian alters my form when a problem arises. My face flickers like a light bulb embedded with a snippet of embarrassment and antsy. It's impossible to fixate on walking correctly when my knuckle grazes the tense lines of his abdomen.

A whoosh escapes my lips as I stumble forward, about to collide with the floor, until Julian straightens me back up. "Arias." He forces through his gritted teeth.

"Sorry."

Upon entering the venue, employees ambush us, ready to collect our jackets and purses. The room is spinning nonstop, and while I know I need to behave, all I want to do is bounce around on the dance floor. Gosh, donut! I'm such a lightweight. Reminder to self-- stay away from alcohol until further notice.

"Mr. Lui!" I shriek to the highest volume I can muster until a palm snaps over my mouth. Citrus sandalwood scent masks his hands.

Horror flashes in his irises. "Maybe lower the volume a tad." I vigorously nod. "Thank you. Now, what?"

A full-blown smile spreads across my face. "Dance with me! Pretty please with a cherry on top. Mr. Lui, please do this one thing for me. Please!" I iron grip his collar, hoisting myself closer to his face.

Julian inhales a breath and exhales. "No."

Disappointment floods through my veins like a waterfall, demolishing my entire mood. I don't have a second to protest before Julian squishes my arm between his body and arm and yanks me into the venue. My mouth parts to request my immediate need for an appeal about his response until Julian sends me the darkest stern glance I've ever seen.

"I just don't understand why you don't want to dance with me," I mumble, under my breath, sporting a pout.

In the blink of an eye, I'm tackled with a body-crushing bear hug from a taller woman, jamming her blonde locks into my mouth. I nearly suffocated from her overwhelming old lady perfume and her dry hair.

My face scrunches with repulsion as she pecks both sides of my cheek. "Isabela, you're finally here! I'm so glad you're joining the family. Damien was an idiot for almost losing you. How long has it been? Two years?"

"Not long enough," I blurt.

Paola unveils her chamomile bob, falling onto her bare shoulders as she models a tight bodycon white dress, matching her side of the familia-- the Moltisanti. Damien and Lorenzo are typical overprotecting brothers for their dear baby sister-- which their way of life strangely contradicts.

"I'm freaking starving!" I exaggerate my vowels as I grab the random snack on the server's plate. "Holy moly! This is amazing! W-what is it?"

A server sports an uneasy grin. "Baby grilled cheese with tomato paste."

Paola clears her throat. "It's your favorite. Damien forgot all about it. Men, right? I made sure Mama added it as an appetizer. Are you going to keep standing there? Or are you going to refill the plate?"

"S-Sorry, of course," The server's face flushes bright red like Rudolph's nose.

Paola sighs, licking her thumb and cleaning my chin. "Jesus. It's like you haven't eaten a meal in years. Eat like a woman before you ruin this gorgeous dress."

"It's because I've eaten anything this good in months," I blab, spitting a wad of toast in Paola's hair.

With a full chewing mouth, I arch forward to grab the crumble dangling in her hair, and my legs flop like jelly, causing an iron grip on Paola's hair. Fright flashes in her irises. She's heaving, silently threatening me with her brown eyes, but I seriously can't let go. Julian clutches onto my back, supporting my weight as he cautiously unravels my hand around her hair.

Quite hastily, he jabs my ribcage into the wooden bar, and I lean over the surface, ready for a well-earned nap.

"Apologies, Miss Moltisanti, Isabela isn't herself tonight. She's a bit preoccupied. Engagement jitters and all," Julian says, gently running his thumb over one of the bumps on my back.

This simple gesture throws me into a tornado of inhumane desires. A feeling that makes my body go numb. Overstimulation. Why does alcohol make everyone a million times hotter?

"I see." Paola clicks her tongue. "I wonder how my future sister-in-law got so lucky to have you by her side. Definitely an upgrade from Rocco." Is it my ears, or is Paola flirting with my bodyguard? "Once you're off the clock, maybe we ca- Holy fuck!"

Her dramatic gasps tremor through my body like a ghost going through you as I spin around, facing her horrid expression. A glossy tint forms over her eyeballs as she manhandles me, forcing me to turn back around, and drags her fingers over the marks on my back.

"Has my brother been abusing you?"

I don't reply. How do I? I'm damned if I do or I don't. Paola won't help me. She's powerless in her family. Sure, she might yell at her brother, but that doesn't mean he will change. If anything, it will get worse.

Paola presses my cheeks together, digging her paws into them as her eyes search mine. "Isabela, has my brother been abusing you?"

Julian places his hand on Paola's arm, trying to rip her hold on my face. "Miss Arias needs to go chat with other guests."

Paola slaps his hand. "She isn't leaving until she answers the fucking question! Is Damien hurting you?"

My mouth falls open, but nothing comes out. Of course, now, my bubbly self decides to stay quiet. How ironic. My eyes float to Julian's, transferring messages with our minds. I think he wants me to speak up.

"Mia Sorella, did you see Isabela's ring yet?" Damien wears his million-dollar white smile, wrapping his arms around Paola's neck.

The latch on her fuse explodes. "You fucking piece of shit! How dare you lay a hand on her!" Her shouting alerts the attention of the other guest in the room, and the violent slap against Damien's cheek echoes in the silence.

Paola cranes her hand back for another blow, but Damien latches onto her wrist before making contact. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

She rips her hand out of his grip and slams her arms into his chest. "Don't. Act. Stupid. Why does Isabela have scars on her back?"

Fear engulfs my body when Damien's hatred-filled eyes dart toward me. "Calm down, Paola. There's been a misunderstanding. I would never lay a hand on my future wife. Isabela got lost on the wrong side of town last week. Julian managed to save her before any more harm was done."

Paola halts the attack on her brother, wrinkling her nose as a tear flows down her cheeks. "W-what? Then why didn't she say that? She reacted the same way I did whenever someone asked about the marks on my arm."

"I-I don't know," Damien stutters. "Isabela, please explain to Paola how those thugs assaulted you and left those marks on you."

My thoughts spiral. A part of me senses Paola has gone through a roughly similar situation to mine. I hope I'm wrong because I wouldn't wish on my worse enemies the things I've had to endure. Damien pins me with a hardened, venomous stare.

"H-he's right," I reply, barely a whisper. "It wasn't Damien. He wouldn't hurt me."

Paola exhales a sign of relief. "Oh, thank god." She collides with Damien's body, snuggling her head on his chest. "I didn't want to have to hate you."

Damien consoles his sister, brushing the back of her hair with his palm. "Sorella, you know me. I could never hurt a woman, let alone my fiance."

She nods her head. "I know. I know." Finally, after the longest hug, Paola steps away and cleans her cheeks. "I'm going to go freshen up. Sorry about the mess, everyone. Please enjoy the party."

The reception returns to its former glory with loud, pulsating music, dozens of servers with food and drinks, and dancing. Damien waits for every prying eye to grow bored over the encounter and digs his fingers into my wrist, dragging me outside the venue. Julian's tactics go over my head, and it's extremely obvious I'm hammered.

Alone.

Away from the public eye.

Except for Julian's.

In the corner of my eye, I see him observing the result from on top of the staircase.

My heart slams against my chest.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Damien spews, venom coated on his every word. "You think this is funny? What happens between me and you is our fucking business. How fucking dare you involve my sister? Were you hoping for some sympathy?"

"I'm a freaking young girl who's been coerced into an arranged marriage. I'm not sorry." My nose flared as I defended myself. "Are you really that afraid of your sister? Afraid to show her how demented you are? I thought our opinions didn't matt-."

Without warning, a hot, sweltering ache shoots through my cheek, and white dots cloud my vision. It's starting.

"Shut the fuck up!" His curled fist sends another throbbing pang to my face, causing me to drop to the floor. "Your opinion doesn't matter, Isabela. You think you can defiant me and get away with it? Stupid fucking useless bitch. I call the fucking shots. You better start listening or trust me I can make this situation ten times worse for you."

My head spins like in the cartoons, my lip rushing hot, and my blood spills to the concrete. My ears are ringing so loudly, damaged from the ambush. I don't feel anything. I've gotten used to the numb feeling-- in everything. A silent snicker vibrates through me. Maybe I should've listened to Julian.

Rich tension builds at my scalp as Damien yanks my hair back, forcing my face to meet his crazed, blood-shot irises. "What a fucking disgrace to the world. You don't look as hot as you think you did. You look like a five-year-old trying mommy's clothes for the first time. A pathetic whore. Leave. I can't show you off in this outfit."

Rage pumps into my bloodstream. I try not to take any of his comments to heart because it's freaking Damien, but he went after my insecurities. I don't have an hourglass figure-- I know that. But I thought that's not the only thing that mattered to be considered attractive.

I should've just listened.

Why don't I ever listen?

I just want to give our girl a big, bear hug— one that doesn't crush her 🥹❤️❤️. She deserves the world and all she wants to do is have fun 🥹🥹 it was so painful for watch how Damien hurt her...

How do you guys feel?

Should she have listened to Julian from the beginning?

If you could kill Damien— how would you do it 😉🤭... maybe give me ideas ;)

Thank you guys for enjoying Isabela's story with me. We're almost at 10K reads and that's literally insane!! I hope you guys stay with me on this journey and I can't wait to read all your thoughts !

Love ya ❤️❤️❤️❤️