Page 45 of Isabela

“Yes,” he says with a nod. “That’s what I want you to call me. I don’t want to hear the words ‘Dr. Murphy’ out of your mouth unless we’re role playing and I’m fucking you on my desk. I really like when you call me ‘Sir’ too, come to think of it.”

This conversation is surreal. How did we even get here?

“You’re a lot to take in,” I whisper. “I’m a little overwhelmed.”

Gael takes a second to breathe as if he’s trying to rein himself in, before he dips his head down to brush his lips over my temple. “I haven’t felt like this in a long time,” he admits. “I was a lot when I met Aria too, and you and I don’t know each other well yet. Let’s go to our meeting, and then we’ll see how we can change that. I plan to get to know you very well.”

The way he says this makes goosebumps spread over my skin.

“Okay,” I tell him.

Gael’s hands encircle my waist, lifting me into my seat. “Why are you so thin, Isabela?” he asks, tossing my bag into the back seat of the cab.

“My uncle has had me on a diet for months,” I sigh. “He’s been controlling everything recently. I don’t have the energy to run anymore, because my calorie intake isn’t high enough.”

Grimacing, he tucks my legs into the truck and buckles me in. “I haven’t decided yet if I’m going to kill the fucker or let you do it,” he rumbles as he closes the door.

“Oh shit,” I say to myself as I watch him stalk around the front of the vehicle. “What does that mean?”

I wait until he’s climbing into the truck before I ask the question, to which he shrugs. Closing the door behind himself once he’s seated, he turns on the truck.

“Exactly as I said. There’s a few tasks you need to do to enter the Eagna Society. One of them is killing someone who is part of your past,” he explains. I stare at him as he puts the truck into drive, carefully checking his blind spots before he pulls out of the parking lot.

“The Society wants you to join, and by extension so do I, but any assistance we give you right now is outside of that. Theodore is chomping at the bit to help you.”

“I’ve never met him before,” I tell him. “My parents had all of these friends, but I never really knew how they knew them.”

“They weren’t Society, but your parents were powerful people in the business world. Let me call Theodore to let him know we’re on the way, Isa,” he says. I watch as he makes a call, noting that he puts himself on speaker.

“Hello?” an older man picks up, and I see the fondness in Gael’s features as he opens his mouth to speak.

“We have a development, Sir. Are you available for brunch possibly? I’m thinking something decadent and delicious to break Isabela Cohen’s imposed diet,” Gael says as he bares his teeth. It’s the only way I can describe it, because it’s primal and dangerous.

My uncle better pray he never meets Gael in a dark alley. I don’t think he’d survive it.

“What kind of fool puts a young woman like her on a diet,” Theodore scoffs. “Isabela?”

“I’m here, Sir,” I confirm, unable to help but like him.

“Do you like chocolate croissants and omelets? If you’ve been on restrictions, I’d like to get some protein in you as well as sweets,” he tells me. “I trust I’ll be hearing some of the things that are leading you to come see me?”

I bite the inside of my lip as I glance over at Gael, who nods.

“Yes, Sir. I guess you will be,” I reply. “It’s been an interesting morning.”

“I’ll see you soon. Gael, take care of your precious cargo,” Theodore says before he hangs up.

His words make me nostalgic, and I take a shaky breath. Gael threads his fingers through mine, just lending me his strength. I’m nervous to see where the rest of my day is going to lead me. It has to be better than how it started.

Ready or not, here I come.

Chapter Eleven

GAEL

The energy buzzing under my skin is chaotic and dangerous. Isabela sounded so scared and hopeless when she called me earlier. I really had trouble keeping it together. She doesn’t need a brute telling her what to do, she needs support.

The ride to Theodore’s feels as if it's taking forever, and Isabela is quiet as she stares out the window. Her hair looks as if she hadn’t brushed it, but she looks beautiful to me. This is something I would have fucked with her about, because appearances matter to me. Instead I recognize something other than laziness: I see someone struggling to survive when the odds are stacked against her.

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