Sold To The Ruthless Alpha

Isabella Marino stared blankly at the empty canvas displayed before her...the brush hovered over the white surface.

Her hand moved as she tried to capture the vibrant hues of the city skyline outside my studio apartment.

My mind though, remained blank as it was filled with a lot of baggage.

I sighed to myself as I tried to treason life.

The sharp sound from the door made me jolt suddenly from my lost state.

"Isabelle? Are you decent darling?" Her mother's calm voice was carried by the thin walls.

Isabelle sighed as she took one last look at her painting before setting her brush.

"Come in Mom."

Gina Marino swept into the room as the door swung open...her heels clicking against the tiled flooring.

Her blonde hair was perfectly coiffed, something that accentuated her immaculate makeup which was in contrast to Isabella's disheveled appearance.

People have always mentioned she looked like her mother. But she honestly couldn't tell how...

"Is this the way you want to keep living? Isa?" Gina cocked a brow as she looked about the room with disdain. "When will you give up this silly fantasy you call art? It's nonsense. Go find a proper job!"

"Stop raising your voice at me, Mother." Isabelle bristled at her mother's tone. "And it's not nonsense. You don't know what it is to me because you don't have it. Painting is my passion."

Gina gave Isabella a long stare that held absolutely no regard for what Isa had just stated.

Then she waved a perfectly manicured hand.

"Sure, and it's not paying the bills. You know that right? And speaking of which..." She suddenly trailed off, her gaze unintentionally landing on the stack of unpaid bills that lay on Isabella's makeshift desk. "What did you say about your painting again?" She slowly turned to her daughter, slightly fuming.

"Mom, I've already told you the money for your medical expenses will be ready soon. I just need to sell a few more pieces." Isabelle stated but she couldn't help her stomach from twisting with dread.

Gina's lips were tightly drawn into a thin line. "Hey, now you won't have to worry about that anymore," she said and took her designer handbag out of the car, from where she got the thick envelope. "I've confronted our financial problems. "

Isabelle looked at the envelope dubiously. "What is the meaning of that? What is the meaning of that? How?"

I will be plain frank and say that I've made a not-so-secret but very profitable deal. "The one that will, by the end of the day, guarantee our future. "

Before Isabelle could ask for more information, a sharp knock from the front door was heard.

Gina's arched brows became more and more clear. "Oh, it is he, isn't it?"

"He? Who the heck are you referring to Mom?"

But Gina had already moved her head, turning it to the door and walking towards it.

Isabelle hastened after her, and a feeling of unease came out of the pit of her stomach.

Gina threw open the door, and what came out was a tall, perfectly dressed gentleman who was standing in the hallway.

His solemn features were frozen in a stern expression, his eyes were concealed by the designer sunglasses.