Arabella Malik, the lethal American mob boss's daughter.
The beauty of the nineteen-year-old was well-known. Her hourglass figure and glowing grey eyes-which mirrored her father's, had practically everyone praising the ground she walked on.
Arabella...
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✰ Ａｒａｂｅｌｌａ ✰
"𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬"
The drive took longer than I had expected. I had no idea where he was taking us, and I didn't ask.
My music was playing from his car's speakers, I felt bad that I had taken over his car, but he didn't seem to mind.
We'd made it past the city, and the signs and directories we passed indicated that we were on our way to Lincoln Square.
The anticipation was eating me. I loathed not knowing what was going to happen; it was something that caused me anxiety, whether good or bad.
Even when I'm on jobs I was filled with anxiety. Even though I was convinced that everything would work out - as it always did - the unknown had always frightened me.
I turned down the music and focused my attention on Roman to distract myself from my curiosity.
When I took a closer look at him, I noticed that his posture and demeanour were both relaxed and soothed. His exceedingly dark eyes, veiled within the amber, remained focused on the road - maintaining his stern, emotionless demeanour.
"Can I ask you something?"
His brows raised a fraction and he looked at me emotionlessly, as if my voice had surprised him.
He returned to the road with a single nod.
"Are you close with your father?" I blurted out, my gaze stuck on his side profile.
I realise it was a strange question, but I was genuinely interested. He appeared to be around him for business purposes, but they didn't appear to be really... family-like.
My question must of ticked something inside of him - due to the small jump of a muscle in his jaw and the way his grip on the wheel tightened the very slightest.
I had turned away after a few moments of silence. The stillness was deafening, but the unanswered question weighed heavily on my mind.
"No."
My attention returned to him, the question answered. The tone of his voice told me that asking any further questions was highly prohibited, so I did what the quiet said and shut my trap.
'Thank you, next' by Ariana Grande played softly on the speakers, and if I weren't in this situation right now, I'd be laughing at how absurd it appeared with the uncomfortable silence.
I cleared my throat and changed the subject almost immediately - and my stupid uncomfortable ass decided to bring up the very thing that kept this whole car alive.
"So... what type of music do you like? I've got Bad Girl Riri or... Drake if that's how you swing. However, if you're a Chase Atlantic fan, I've got an entire playlis—
