Clove Isabelle Fuhrman Novels & Stories

There were some left flowers planted at the very center of the compound giving the environment a blissful nature. Brandon came out hearing her voice as he welcomed her taking the bag with her. “Thanks,” Isabella said to bran. “You should give that to Cynthia inside” She handed a clipper pack to Brandon. Brandon giggled as he took it from her and motioned towards the house, he really couldn’t stop thinking how Cynthia would look like on a low cut. That was Isabella’s decision on the best way to disguise her since her face had been plastered around the city and she had been declared wanted. She really needed another form of disguise apart from their usual make up skit she had been using.

Ten tall, broad-shouldered movers were hauling heavy garment bags, massive floral arrangements, and wooden crates through the doors, heading toward the guest house. Clara, our chef, was already struggling up the stairs with a stack of Isabella's garment bags. "Easy with those, please! I don't want them wrinkled!" Isabella called out after her. "Yes, ma'am!" Clara called back, sweating. "And Mom!" Isabella turned around, her voice hitting a pitch that made me instinctively press my palms over my ears. "I need you to call the florist. The final centerpieces need to be delivered in the next few hours."

When the elevator doors opened on the top floor, she saw a woman standing there in the middle of the living room. The woman was tall and beautiful, with perfect blonde hair and a designer dress. She looked like she belonged on the cover of a magazine. She was looking at the bedroom door, and then her eyes flicked to Clara, taking in her disheveled red dress and the state she was in. A look of pure, cold hatred flashed in the woman's eyes. “Hello,” the woman said, her voice dripping with sweet poison. “I’m Isabella. You must be the new maid. Damien and I have an unfinished matter to discuss.”

"You're nine hours late, Isabella." ​Cynthia didn't turn around from the marble island. She was wearing a cream silk blouse without a single wrinkle, her silver hair pinned back with a tortoiseshell comb that matched the tone of the cabinetry. Her long, pale fingers were busy with a silver paring knife, slicing a yellow lemon into translucent discs with an intense, mechanical rhythm. The sharp, clean scent of citrus cut through the heavy, stagnant air of the townhouse kitchen, a scent that had nothing to do with the wet spruce and wood smoke Bella had carried down from the mountain.

My clothes stuck to my body, my entire frame trembling from the cold. Almost there. I encouraged myself as the house gate finally came into view. I’m Isabella Santos. Just a simple girl from the countryside who somehow caught the attention of the almighty Xavier Gustavo…the heir to Gustavo Group Limited, the wealthiest and most powerful family in California. Or should I say... unlucky? Sigh. Xavier met me at the coffee shop where I worked and confessed his love. It felt like a dream come true. I had always crushed on him, and now, I'm engaged to him.

She looked like money, but not the kind that needed to prove it. Her name, for this job, was Isobel Hart—a boutique art dealer from Tribeca with a taste for rare Bordeaux and unavailable men. She’d spent weeks crafting the identity: a fake gallery website, a burner phone with curated texts, even a LinkedIn profile with just enough ambiguity to be intriguing.

I ask, nodding to the female Alpha respectfully. “It is.” Isabella confirms. She was no longer in the ballgown from before. Instead, she wore a pair of black fitted jeans and a simple cream blouse. Liam was dressed in black slacks and a blue turtleneck, his hand possessively placed at the small of Isabella’s back. “When you asked me to help you take over Frost Moon, I did not expect it to involve Damon’s death.” She says quietly, stepping away from Liam and coming to stand before me. Her blue eyes hold no sadness, just empathy as Isabella takes my hand in hers.

She pulled the luggage over and gently called out, "Jane." Jane smiled. "Isadora, let me introduce someone to you. This is Alex's nephew's fiancee, Ruth Mann. We just call her Ruth." Isadora looked at Ruth with a faint smile. "Nice to meet you, Miss Mann." Isadora was very polite and she was a little reserved. Ruth was also able to tell that Isadora's self-esteem was a little low. Ruth immediately felt as if she had found a kindred spirit and had a sense of familiar friendliness on Isadora. "So, you're Isadora?"

Did he even know how to? "Stop talking nonsense and get up," Nathaniel Dave bent before the woman and held her hand in an attempt to help her to the bedroom but the woman pulled him close all of a sudden. "Nathaniel Dave, you promised that I'll be the woman you will give your first kiss to, remember me? I'm your Cleo," Isabel said and struggled to kiss the man. Again, the word 'Cleo,' sounded familiar to Nathaniel Dave. He was now getting scared. Was Isabel the woman he loved then ? but how could she? Maybe she read all these up and was only trying to deceive him.

She did not blame her friend. After the pain she went through, Isabella shut men from entering her world. All she cared about was her son and her job. Manuela picked up her phone and checked for a dress online. She ordered a duchess silk gown with tiny sleeves. It had a V-neck and was orange. “It will be here in a few minutes,” she said, as she swiped up. “While waiting, you can have your bath. I will select one of the heels and bag for you.”