| 18+ |
A grieving student-detective and her bilingual Italian heir.
𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐲 - She is a hard-working college student studying to become a detective after her mother's unexpected death. The cops labeled it a suicide, but she knew be...
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The room was cold and brisk, but refreshing on my exposed skin as I lay awake in my new bed. I was wearing one of the PJ sets Mayla bought me, whoever that was. I never got a chance to meet her since I was too busy arguing with Mateo yesterday about wanting a different trainer.
She had delivered the bags of clothes to our bedrooms while I was in the shower, which I felt kind of glad about. I didn't want to meet another member of the Mafia, they're far from good or innocent, so why should I get to know them?
Plus, it's not like I would get close to these people since I planned on escaping sooner or later, and frankly they scared me. I mean their murderers and criminals that lead to my mother's death, how could I trust any of them?
I couldn't, I could only trust myself. Well, and Nova and Sage of course.
But as I'm held here for the time being I'll do what's needed of me, and what's needed of me right now is to be trained by Mateo. Although I'm still mad at him about the whole pretending to be "nice" thing, the thought of us having to work together didn't fully sicken me.
That's a good sign I guess.
I left my warm and cozy spot on the bed and went to the bathroom, brushing my teeth and getting dressed. I put my hair up in a messy bun and changed into another outfit Mayla bought me. She surprisingly got my size right, the clothes were not too large or too tight, but perfect as they snugged my curves. I was wearing a white sports bra, a white hoodie to go with, and black leggings. I might be forced to join the Mafia as of now, but I sure as hell refuse to look bad while I'm here.
Two knocks hit my door that time.
"Who's there!" I hollered, walking back into my bedroom.
No answer.
I walked toward the door and unlocked it, "I said who is-" Mateo stood there only wearing a black hoodie and gray Nike shorts. His shirt was nonexistent and I could see a bit of his chest from the partially unzipped section of his hoodie.
Silently gawking at his figure, I noticed something in his pocket. Maybe it was his cell phone or a wallet...or a gun? The image made me stiff in place as the idea of what we were going to do today swarmed my thoughts, afraid of what it was exactly that he needed a firearm for.
"Ripley did your mother ever teach you that it's impolite to stare at a guy's dick." Mateo implied, setting his hands inside the pockets of his shorts. My cheeks turned to beat red as I realized that was not an item, but something much more private. I coughed to pull myself together, trying to make my blushing and embarrassment disappear.
