Oriya Deronte, the American Mafia's future Donna. She was destined to be the queen. Skills in assassination and seduction have been mastered. At the age of 14, she was given the nickname Devil after killing 34 armed men with a single dagger. Every g...
He grimaces, "Stop smiling witch. You look ridiculous."
My smile only grows wider, "You're back."
He flicks my forehead, "Shut up."
He stalks over to the fridge and rummages around. I lean over, wondering what he's doing. I nearly fell off from the side and decided I should just wait for him to reveal whatever he has in there.
He closes the doors and I look up to see him with a cake in his hands and scowl on his face, "I would've given this last night but you had a little guest over." He grumbles.
"For the last time, I'm sorry." I huff.
"Kiss me and I'll forgive you." He offers.
I roll my eyes and lean over to kiss the dumbass anyway. I pull back to see a content look on his face. He nodded down to the cake and I took a little blue frosting on my finger and licked it off as I read the writing.
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I pinch his cheeks, "You're so cute Vin."
"I'm not cute." He grumbles, smacking my hands away.
He pulls out two forks and I exchange mine with a spoon. I will never understand how people like to eat cake with a fork. Vincent looks at me and never have I seen someone so ashamed to have me in their life.
"Maybe I don't love you." He scoots away from me.
"Hey!" I scoot closer to him, "I just have my own preferences."
He sends me a look but lets it be. I look at the cake again and look over the messy decorating. I could tell Vincent made this cake himself just by the way the frosting was put on and the handwriting.
He smacks the side of my head, "I'm not a baker. Shut up."
"I didn't say anything." I raise my hands in surrender before sticking my spoon into the cake and eating it like my last meal.
Vincent was no cake decorator but he sure as hell knew how to make one. I slyly checked my phone, checking to see when the cake I had ordered was going to arrive. I changed the date to tomorrow considering we already had a cake today.
I would've made him a cake myself but the last time I tried to bake a cake, I nearly poisoned Ryder. Ryder made me promise to never feed him cake that day.
"You didn't have weapons with you yesterday." He points out.
I shrug, "Nobody even knew I was back in America."
He smacks my spoon away and throws me a stern look. He didn't need to say anything. I knew what he meant. I flicked his forehead and picked up my soon again, stuffing more cake into my mouth.
The clock hits 11 and I hear little footsteps outside the door. I furrow my eyebrows in confusion. Who the fuck is the second child? I whip open the door to see Sarah and Ryder running down the hall, hand in hand as Jason tries to keep up with them.
