Chapter 2

“You annoying little runt,” Patricia, Alejandro's daughter, growled at Isabelle, landing a resounding slap on her cheeks.

Isabelle sucked in air through her teeth as she ran her quivering hand over her reddening cheeks, her other hand stiff by her side.

“What did I do now?” she asked as tears gathered in her large eyes.

“I'm going to assume you did not just ask me that,” Patricia answered as she inched towards Isabelle, both fists balled. “What did I tell you about my laundry?” she asked, spittle blasting in Isabelle's face. She had to squeeze her face and step back.

Isabelle stood mute, her head down, her palm glued to her aching cheek.

“Answer me, and stop looking at my shoes like an idiot,” she growled, pushing Isabelle by the shoulder, making her stumble back and hit the back of her head on the wall.

“Ma… Madam asked me to drop everything I was supposed to do to run an errand for her, so I… I just gave everything to the laundry man,” Isabelle stammered and swallowed hard as she stared at Patricia, her forehead lined in fear. She didn't know what would come next.

“You insolent girl… You say I did what?” Margaret cut in as she walked into the living room.

Isabelle's shoulders tensed as her eyes grew larger, darting to Margaret. She knew that it never ended well when these two teamed up against her; she was done for.

“Am I talking to myself?” Margaret yelled. Isabelle flinched as she jumped away from Patricia's front and was about to flee the scene, but Patricia caught her hair and pulled her back.

She fell on her butt, her elbows bashing against the floor. “Ouch,” she cried, as she threw her head back and her lips parted. Her brows furrowed as she tried to get up.

Patricia lunged towards her, but she froze when she caught movement with the corner of her eyes. She turned to see Alejandro, her father, storming inside the house.

“Hey, Honey, good afternoon,” Margaret greeted, wearing a sick smile.

“Good afternoon, Daddy,” Patricia added before she turned to Isabelle and kicked her side. “Get out of my front.”

Isabelle got up slowly, holding her side, and she walked away, her head bowed, and her eyes pegged to the floor.

Alejandro walked straight past them. Margaret could tell from his countenance that the meeting didn't go well.

“Baby, could you excuse us for now?” Margaret said to Patricia. She was about to argue when her father shot her a glare. She gave them the ‘whatever’ eye roll and walked away, counting her steps.

“My love, what's wrong?” Margaret asked Alejandro, who slumped on the sofa.

He ignored her and pressed two fingers on his temple as he loosened his tie. “Please, talk to me, my love,” she said, sitting next to him.

Alejandro stretched his hand and grabbed the bottled water on the table. He opened it and took a sip. After a while, he relaxed on the chair and sighed. “He agreed to help save the company, but on one condition.”

“And what's that?” she asked.

“It's too much.”

“Just tell me, for crying out loud.”

“In return for his help to save the company, he wants our daughter… a night with her.”

Alejandro's words sent chills up and down Margaret's spine.

“What?” Patricia, who had been eavesdropping, stepped out. “What do you mean by he wants me?” she asked.

“W… well, he said he only wants that, but I don't believe him,” he said.

“Knowing Mr. Sebriano, I don't think that's all,” Margaret chipped in.

“Is he the one who can save the company?” Patricia rushed, looking from her mom to her dad.

“He's the only one we know,” he answered.

“I would never be the price, Father,” Patricia grumbled.

“There's no way we will send you there. Mr. Sebriano is a monster. Do you know what he does to girls?” Margaret assured her daughter.

“Only a man who's trying to sell or get rid of his daughter could do something that stupid,” Alejandro added, as he clicked his tongue.

“Sell? Or get rid of, huh?” Margaret muttered to herself, and a maniacal grin followed.

Patricia noticed her expression, and she scowled at her. “Mom, what's going on in that mischievous head of yours?”

“I think I just figured out a way we can kill two birds with one stone-hearted Mafia boss,” she replied.

Alejandro raised a brow at her. “What are you implying?”

“Isabelle… she should be the price.”

“That's ridiculous. That girl could never pass as me. Anyone with class will sense her from a mile away,” Patricia said.

“Would you rather we send you instead?” Alejandro asked sarcastically.

“Hell no!! I'm just saying…” Patricia tried to say, but Alejandro cut in.

“No, don't say. Just shut up.”

“Finally, something other than house chores. Am I getting a bit useful?” Isabelle thought out loud as she walked towards the large gates in front of her.

“Name?” Nico growled coldly, scanning Isabelle from head to toe with a sneer.

Isabelle flinched as she turned and saw Nico behind her. She drew back as she noticed his hefty size.

Swallowing, she muttered, “I'm here to deliver a file from Moner's estate and housing agency.”

“A moment,” Nico added, grumpily. He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed Andrew.

“Nico, this better be of worth, because you're interrupting poker,” Andrew groaned on the other end of the phone.

“Boss, a lady is here to see you…” he was saying when Andrew cut in.

“Nico, what's her name?”

Nico raised a brow and ran his eyes over Isabelle. “Boss, she says she's from Moner’s Estates and Housing agency.”

“Moner?” There was a pause, and then Andrew continued, “Let her in.”

Nico dropped the call, and he pressed the button; then the large gate slid open.

Isabelle heard the beep, and she turned towards it. Her jaw dropped as she saw the estate in front of her.

She had thought she had reached the house, not knowing she needed another ride to get to the main gate.

“Ohh my goodness,” Isabelle muttered as she gaped at the mansion.

“Go on,” Nico said.

Isabelle swallowed, gripping onto the ziplock bag she held with both hands in front of her. She stepped towards the mansion.

“That was just a lucky streak… I was about to win, you know?” a man dressed in a suit said.

Isabelle, who had just gotten out of the golf cart, shifted to the side as a couple of men flocked out of the mansion, without sparing her a glance.

“Yeah, that's what losers always say to console themselves. My favorite part was when you went all in,” the one beside him chuckled.

“Oh, he thought he had that round,” another man said as they all burst into laughter.

Isabelle kept her head low as she stared at their luxury shoes.

Isabelle turned back and watched them walk into a few golf carts. She frowned in worry, hoping Mr. Sebriano was not among them.

“Hi, Miss Moner.”

Isabelle flinched as she heard a deep-throated groan behind her. She turned slowly and faced Andrew, who stood by the door, his shoulder leaning on the frame.

He licked his lips as he tucked his hands in his slacks pockets. His dark grey eyes complemented his flowing smoky black hair.

He wore a white T-shirt which seemed to be too tight around his large biceps and toned chest.

.

She stood there timid in her black sweatpants and hoodie, with the hood covering a part of her face. Only her parted lips could be seen by Andrew.

His gaze ran down her, and in one instant, his eyes darkened as he gritted his teeth.

“You're not Patricia Moner.”