So no, sweet little Isabella was not for the likes of me no matter how gorgeous she had become in the last year, and no matter that she didn’t seem to have outgrown her crush.
***
The more I kept her at arm’s length, the bolder she became in her escapades though, and then she crossed the line. I maybe could’ve handled that situation a lot better than I had, but when she threw herself into my arms that night, professing her love for me, I was scared out of my fucking mind.
Not scared of her, but afraid of what I wanted to do to her. She was eighteen fucking years old for fuck sake and I wanted so much to tie her to my bed and fuck her in all the ways I could imagine and then some.
The thought had left some parts of me cold, while others burned like fiery embers. How could I take my late friend’s child to my bed? He’d trusted me to look out for her and as much as my cock reared its ugly head at the very thought of her, I couldn’t soil his memory.
Perhaps if I had been a different man, if my proclivities were a little more mainstream, I might’ve considered it. But there was no way in hell I was going to introduce her to my world.
Now she was up to her shit again, only this time she’d bitten off more than she could chew and I was about to show little Ms. Thing just what happened when you yanked the lion’s tail.
***
In the last year, she’d pulled any number of stunts to get my attention. From late night parties when she knew damn well her little ass was too young to be hanging out drinking, to skipping class. I’d fixed that shit by going around her to the parents of her friends and threatening their asses.
She’d had a fit, but I pretty much just ignored her tantrums. Then she’d started with the last minute trips out of town, anything to get under my skin. Unbeknownst to her, I had her under twenty-four-hour guard. There wasn’t a move she made that I didn’t know about. If she knew, she’d probably try to kill me in my sleep; yeah, my little hellcat has a temper on her too.
Our relationship of late has been reduced to grunts and snipes; that was mostly my fault. It was the only way I could keep her safe from what she thought she wanted. But this last play had opened my eyes and lit a fire under my ass. I hope she liked what she got after going out of her way to force my hand.
I know her well enough to know that she knew I would be there to save her from her latest bullshit, that I would always be there to catch her. Only her ass might not survive this one intact.
Chapter 2
***
ISABELLA
It's my wedding day; I should be happy right! Instead I'm miserable and scared. The reason; the man I love isn't the one I'll be meeting down the aisle. He's such an asshole.
For three and a half years I've had the hots for him, but he's kept me at arm's length. I could understand the first three years when I was too young, but I’m old enough now, at least the law says so, but not Mr. Bigshot. Well, I’ll show him-the ass.
Maybe I should introduce myself, give you a bit of a background so you know what's going on.
My name is Isabella Devlin; I just turned eighteen last week.
I'm one of those trust fund babies you read about in the gossip rags, but in my defense, that's all because of my guardian, he's the asshole.
Most everything I've done in the last three years has been to get his attention, but he never does the expected. No matter what I throw at him, he always thwarts me.
I hate him, I love him; he makes me crazy.
When I was fourteen and he a young twenty six year old, my parents perished in a plane crash.
Their private jet went down in the Swiss Alps. I was supposed to be with them, but at the last minute I got sick and couldn't make the trip so I stayed home with the servants after telling them it was okay, that I would be fine. I couldn’t wait to be left on my own for the first time; that guilt will stay with me for the rest of my life.
They were both forty years old at the time that they died.
***
Zared had been one of my dad's business partners; much had been made of the young, debonair, up and comer with the pedigreed background, who chose to branch out on his own and make a name for himself separate from his family's already well established reputation.
I'd seen him around the house plenty when my parents were alive. My dad and him had formed a bond that went beyond the business arena.
Dad had been fond of saying that the younger man was the most honest person he'd ever encountered in our world. A stand up guy whose moral compass was incomparable. No wonder he had chosen him to look after me in case of just such a disaster.
Years later, I can attest to that fact. One can only hope for a little human emotion.
He had decided after the funeral to move into our family home as opposed to moving me into his bachelor pad in the city. He thought it would be better for my frame of mind at the time, not to shake things up too much.