Page 1 of Isabela

Chapter One

ISABELA

Frowning, I throw my phone on the table. I hear the crusty librarian shush me and cringe. All I need is to be thrown out of the University’s library, as my uncle taunts me with threats.

Fucking awesome.

My parents died three years ago, just as I turned eighteen. They put my inheritances into my uncle’s control until I turn twenty-five with certain stipulations. One of them is that I have to go to college, which I’m attending and love because it means I get some space from him.

The other? I have to help with the family business.

I’m really good with numbers, and as soon as my uncle realized this, he started leaning on me to help balance his books.

My family owns and runs a large security and communications company, and it’s supposed to all be legal. Or at least it was while my parents were alive, but over the last three years, my uncle has begun accepting some dangerous clients.

My phone beeps again, making me huff in frustration. I have one more year of school before hopefully beginning my masters program, but Uncle Eli keeps hinting heavily at a position working for the family company.

Cohen Security and Communications would be a boon for anyone to land, except I want to run the other way as quickly as possible.

I’m an heiress with no power, and it’s fucking frustrating.

Picking up my phone, I scowl at my uncle’s text.

Uncle Eli: The time for silly games is over, Isabel. You need to grow up. The board is asking when you’re going to take your rightful place. It’s your junior year, tick tock.

He wants me to attend an event next week, as a show of good faith to the company that I’m taking my responsibilities seriously. I hate wearing dresses, having to cover up my tattoos with makeup, and acting like someone I’m not. Dammit, my uncle hasn’t seen my gauges yet.

This isn’t going to go well at all. Putting my books away slowly as if it’ll help a solution magically appear, I scowl when none does.

Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I decide I have to answer, in an effort to keep him from driving the hour to Phoenix, to force an answer from me.

This happened my freshman year of college when I thought I had freedom. The beating that followed was unpleasant, and made me fully aware of why my uncle insisted I get an apartment off campus without a roommate. No witnesses.

I need more time, Uncle. My parents said in their will that they respect my commitment to education. I am willing to show the board a gesture of good faith. I’ll be at the Cohen Literary Foundation next week.

Bubbles start and stop on my uncle’s side of the message, which makes me roll my eyes and rise to my feet. I’m sure he will find something to complain about, and I don’t have time for him to work himself into a tizzy over my message.

Walking out of the library, I breathe in the late afternoon air. I was trying to get a head start on a paper for a teacher that gets under my skin.

Dr. Gael Murphy is my Ancient Civilization professor, and has it in for me.

It seems that everything I do annoys him. My tattoos, my interpretation of historic events, whether or not I attend his office hours.

I can’t seem to get on his good side, but since I’m acing his course and he can’t flunk me, I’ve decided to embrace being a thorn in his side.

I am not a Snickers bar: I can’t satisfy everyone, so why try?

I have one more class tonight and need to kill a little time, so I decide to take a walk to the quad to grab a sub sandwich. I don’t like to go home during the holidays, because my uncle controls what I eat, how I dress, and even what I can read.

Since I refuse to date, I’ve started reading reverse harem romances, but I especially love the books where the main female character is bisexual.

I’ve known since my senior year of high school that I like both boys and girls, and it’s a secret I hide from my uncle. He’s very strict, and his views have no room for a bisexual niece.

I thank God every day my parents never breathed a word of it to him, though they always accepted me. If they hadn’t had the car accident, no one would care what I do.

During my darkest moments, I hate them for dying, and then I hate myself for thinking it.

Blowing out a breath to dispel the pain in my heart, I order my sandwich with a grateful smile, from the nice couple who run the food cart, and then find a seat in the pretty outside courtyard.

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