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✰
"𝐔𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭"
A large hand came over my mouth to keep me quiet, while an arm was tight around my waist. I squirmed in their grip, but still, the darkness made it difficult to see anything.
Thankfully, a light turned on, and my eyes widened as I spotted my very own boyfriend in front of me, sporting a mischievous smirk.
His hand released as I slapped his chest.
"Roman!" I squealed and took a step back from him.
I huffed and put my palm over my racing heart, "You can't do that to me."
With a small twist of his lips, he gazed at me emotionlessly, as if he was entertained by the situation.
"Sorry." He leant against the wall, shrugging.
I scanned him momentarily when my rushing heart had slowed down. He was dressed casually in a pair of baggy denim jeans and a grey sweatshirt. White sneakers for the shoes.
His slim neck was adorned with a single chain. On both lopes, a pair of diamond stud earrings, and silver rings flashed on the fingers.
Looking at his soft curls, I observed that they were ruffled and unruly but still appeared baby soft. I moved my gaze away from his hair and towards his chiselled form.
Comparing to the last time I saw him, his jaw was sleek and smooth. He now had a slight bit of scruff along his jaw, which only added to his attractiveness.
Fuck my boyfriend hot.
Biting my lower lip, I return my gaze to his, which were fixed on mine already. Amber collided with grey, and my heart skipped a beat. Or maybe more.
He took a step forwards and took large strides towards me, only taking three steps to get in front of me.
As his tongue peered out and slipped across his bottom lip, my gaze was drawn to it. The sight of it caused abnormal swarms of butterflies to erupt within me.
When his two hands drew to the sides of my face, my vision returned to his eyes. He stashed a few strands of hair to the side by brushing his finger across them.
Slowly, he leant down, his gaze darting between my lips and my eyes, a devilish smirk on his lips. While he lingered over my lips, the colour of his eyes altered, and I watched with a gleam.
When he was only inches away from connecting to my lips, his voice spoke slowly and deeply.
"Buon compleanno, ragazza mia."
Translation: "Happy birthday, my girl."
I smiled, and his lips pressed against mine. Softly kissing me with ambition. Slow and pulsating, the kiss was delicate and sweet.
