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Anastasia Lenkov wants to live a normal life as a nurse after escaping her old, brutal life. But her past keeps catching up with her. She is on the run from the Russian mafia, because her father, the boss, will n...
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The throbbing in my head made itself felt whereupon my eyes narrowed.
Slowly my eyelids fluttered open and a beam of light that fell through the almost fully closed curtain entered my view.
The orange glow of the sunbeam hinted that it was early in the morning.
I groaned softly as I raised my hand to my temple, trying to get rid of the headache somehow.
Something prevented me from sitting up and I squinted my eyes to sharpen my still blurry vision a bit.
A muscular heavy arm rested over my hip, the grip holding me firmly in place.
Antonio.
My eyes widened as I recalled my memories of yesterday.
Fuck.
I looked to the Italian lying next to me, his face turned toward me. His eyes with those heavy full lashes were closed.
His lips were slightly parted and his steady slow breathing told me that he was fast asleep.
The first buttons on the white shirt he was wearing were undone and he looked quite peaceful as he rested there.
My gaze went back to the arm that was lying on me. Black tattoos decorated his skin there.
A black butterfly was tattooed on the back of his hand, and I remembered the necklace he had given me, which had an identical butterfly on it.
Near the butterfly, in italics, were two names. At our first meeting, he said something about the writing on his hand being his favorite tattoo.
That meant the people who wore those names had to be pretty important to him.
I swallowed and looked at the writing, his steady breathing sounding beside me.
Annabella
Celestina
The names were written below each other on the wrist. Around them were other artwork inked into the skin, an anchor, a cross, a skull with smoke coming out of its mouth, a rose, and more until the tattoos disappeared under his sleeve.
All of them looked pretty dark and sinister. The many small symbols on his knuckles were worn, probably had faded with time and numerous fights.
He moved slightly beside me, his rough fingers, covered with many small scars, dug themselves deeper into the fabric of my dress.
I need to get out of here before he wakes up.
I have to admit that I thought about twisting his wrist backwards so that he would remove his arm. That probably wouldn't earn me many trust points though.
The throbbing in my head grew louder as I tried to sit up slightly. I slowly and gently took Antonio's hand in mine and lifted it away from me and placed it next to him on the bedspread.
