Isabella’s POV
In.
Out.
UP.
Down.
I started back into the routine that my mother had me on when I was ten.
Twenty curl-ups to start my morning. Ten situps before I meditate in the shower. While the brothers were on missions or doing work at the club I was either at the gym sparring or at my laptop searching for anything that could give me any indication of the enemies my father and mother gained during their marriage.
I did not look up when I heard the knock at the door. I did not move my head when I inhaled the scent of vanilla and cinnamon intruding on my surroundings.
“Isabella,” he called out to me. I exhaled and pulled off my reading glasses and put my computer into screen-saver mode.
After the heated debate between them, I refused to let them see anything that I was wo
