Spellbound by Julie D'Arcy - Audiobook - Aimee Smith
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
North American (General) North American (US General American - GenAM) North American (US West Coast - California, Portland)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
The redhead swore in Russian and tried to stand but Isabella pushed her back into her seat and tossed the rest of the drink into Ivan's face. His expression would have been comical. Had the situation not been so grave. Champagne dripped from historic eyelashes down his clean shaven chin and a large damp patch stained the lapel and groin of his Gucci suit pig. She gained five steps before his hard hand clutched her elbow and he snapped her around to face him. What the **** was that? You sent me to that man like a hoare and you asked me that question, lower your voice. He hissed, you are causing a scene causing a scene. She hammered her fist into his chest. You used me as a harlot and I'm causing a scene. He grasped her wrists to fend her off. Stop it. You crazy *****. She tried to knee him but he raised his leg and his thigh deflected the blow. She pushed him back and he stumbled and tripped over a freshly laid table, crystal glasses and silver cutlery crashed and scattered on the floor. The sound echoing throughout the room. It was as if the whole world was reduced to slow motion. With dread. Isabel appeared around to see who was watching. And in that instant she did not see the blow coming her way, but she felt it. Ivan had climbed to his feet. The slap rang in her ears and she reeled pain exploding in her head. She lost her footing and almost fell. But he caught her, she dragged her arm free and ran knowing now she ran for her life. He was behind her. She could imagine his breath warming her nape and she heard his shout, Isabella come back here, we can work this out. She broke into the night and saw the large figure of Vladimir chefs off standing on the curb. His eyes widened in recognition. Then he frowned as he took in her appearance momentarily, he blocked her way. The curls, the hairdresser had taken so much time in arranging had tumbled down around her face and shoulders, tears streaked her makeup and the bruise she felt forming on her face throbbed. Even as she stared at Shevtsov, his gaze shifted over her shoulder and she knew Ivan stood behind her, Ivan, the man who had brought her to this Ivan, whom she had loved and to whom she had first given her body. Ivan who had abused her trust and turned her into the wretched creature. She now was slowly, she turned his gaze raked over her in cold hostility. His fingers bit into her arm how dare you act like a common tramp in my establishment. How dare you? She snarled. She closed her eyes, pulled back her arm and with all her might powered a punch into his perfect square jaw. He grunted and toppled into Vladimir who was now standing behind him. Vladimir's arms wind milled, he lost his balance and lurched backwards from the curb into the path of an approaching yellow cab. Isabella had no time to spare. Vladimir or Ivan more than a cursory glance. She spongy flea with a sickening crack she heard and felt the heel on her stiletto break her ankle buckled to the side and pain shot up at the back of her leg, but she didn't stop. She could not make herself. She kicked off both shoes and left them where they dropped crying, tears of self recrimination, guilt, pain and remorse. Isabella limped quickly into the night along the New York footpath and mingled with the faceless crowd of humanity that frequented the streets. However, even as she disappeared into the masses, she wondered if she could ever run long enough or far enough from the man who had called himself her fiance for. She knew no one had ever left the red mafia knowing so much and lived.