Chapter Five
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Isabella
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But then I think about my father. My family. I mean, we could start over from nothing, but I know my dad; the devastation would kill him. And I need my life to remain the same. I'm not strong enough for change.
No. I need to get my father back. I need to marry one of them against my heart's wishes, and then my father has to pay all his debts, some of them to mafia organizations, I later discovered. I hate that my father was desperate enough to take loans from sharks just to see his dream being built.
But after we're in the clear, he's retiring for good. No more shenanigans for him.
"What do you want, Isabella?" Lorenzo asks.
Right.
I strode toward the massive boardroom table and leaned my bum against the edge.
"Let's catch up," I say softly. Okay, that didn't sound that bad. I'm getting the hang of this.
"Oh, it's hot in here." It's not. I'm freezing my tits off. But I open the first button on my blouse. And I fail. What the hell. The damn tiny pearl button refuses to slip through the hole. It's stuck.
I hear them chuckle at me fighting with the button. I won't be beaten. So I open the next button on the row. I don't fucking care that I've now made an unappealing gap in my blouse and no cleavage to speak of. God help me. What the hell am I doing?
"Move on from the freaking buttons, Larson," I scream at myself.
Okay.
I need to hop onto the table and cross my legs.
My skirt has a slit, and when it parts, it's going to reveal a whole lot of naked thigh.
That's going to be the deal clincher. One of them is going to fall so hard for me he's going to be bruised with lust. And then bam. Universe back where it belongs.
Except when I place my palms on the desk and hoist myself up onto it, my left hand grips the table, and my right hand grips air because, idiot that I am, I decided to stand at the corner of the table.
So naturally, I topple over onto my right side onto the carpeted floor in the most unladylike way ever. God. What?
I scramble onto my knees and just sit there while they grin at me, fully amused at my demise. Why am I so bad at this? What is actually wrong with me? I could have been a femme fatale, a terrific temptress if I hadn't spent my sexually formative years pining over...but no.
Tears prick my eyes, but before they fall, I take a breath and remember who I am.
"Look, I have to marry one of you. Just one.
My family is facing dire financial ruin.
My father is imprisoned in Naples somewhere, and I can't get him out.
My scary grandmother wants me to marry the head of the Onyx Empire before she releases a trust with enough funds in it to clear my father's debt, some of it with very bad men.
"So which one of you would like to marry me? We don't even have to consummate the marriage. We don't even have to live together. We just need to be married. That's all, please."
Emilio comes toward me and lowers himself in front of me, a smile on his lips.
"I'm sure with a little more practice you can do better than this, tesoro. We'll give you another chance to woo each of us, and then we'll take it from there. All right?"
I have to woo them all over again? Oh no. Don't they understand? How can I woo anyone when woe is me. I want to cry.
But this is a chance, and I have to take it.
"Okay," I say, with renewed hope. Emilio helps me up. I'm so embarrassed my cheeks are stinging with heat, but I don't care. I dust down my skirt and straighten my shoulders again. I can do this.
"You have a deal, gentlemen. I am going to woo the socks off all three of you.
I'm going to woo you until the... cows come home.
You're going to be so wooed, you'll be...
dreaming about being wooed," I say. That fell hopelessly flat, but the enthusiasm in my voice stayed the same, and that's what counts.
I have no idea where all this confidence comes from, but from the little voice in my head, it's all lies I'm feeding myself.
By the time I get into my car, I'm shaking all over. I immediately call Sam and blurt everything out in one breath.
"This changes everything," Sam says thoughtfully.
"I know. I just promised them I was going to woo them and cows. I think I promised them cows, Sam."
"I'm sure you didn't," Sam says like she's talking a child down from an unrealistic tantrum.
"No, I did," I say miserably.
"Okay. This is okay. We can turn you into a temptress. Nothing is impossible. Just believe."
Ugh. I just want to go back to my old life, where I pretended I was put together when in fact most days I avoided the manuscript I was writing and ate snacks that made my fingers orange while I watched reruns of my favorite movies. I was happy then, I tell myself.