Deal • REWRITE • BOOK 1

7; Heaven in Hiding

"Keep your panties out of a fücking twist Lucien, it's not that deep."

A R I A

Being the daughter of a mafia boss was one of the many aspects of my life that I didn't like to share with people.

Maybe it was the way that they'd stare once they known, or how they'd stay away from me as if one wrong move could cost them their lives that irritated me, but either way, it meant that my circle was small...now near non-existent since Jeremy was bed ridden in a hospital.

Through him I had learnt that trust was an earned privilege in this life so it was understandable that I'd been accustomed to the price someone paid for betrayal. Oddly I'd first been introduced to it  through fighting with my siblings in my younger years when I wasn't living in Italy, both my brothers tending to have ganged up on me until one of us had been hurt and another had told my father.

We'd all been punished. For both fighting and telling on one another.

At first I didn't quite understand but now that I was older I did, learning that trust was something that didn't come easily and when given, it wasn't meant to be tested.

My father didn't seem to get that considering I didn't have his faith anymore, which was probably why he was making it his mission to prove that to me by forcing me into situations that he thought would make me surrender to his decision.

I clenched my fingers when I recalled the way Marco thrashed under my hands, my nails pressing crescents into the skin of my palms as I turned under the sheets of my bed and settled on my back whilst staring up at the ceiling.

I was a lot stronger than I was when I'd left New York nearly ten years ago.

I was sharper, a hell of a lot more accurate and now had a knack for making someone spill secrets without them knowing.

Jeremy liked to call me a psychotic therapist because of it, my tendency of knowing things that I shouldn't having served an advantage that worked well in many favours, more so now if I thought about it.

I sighed as I recalled memories in Italy, smoothing my hands over my face as I turned in bed and silently prayed for Jeremy whilst checking the time on my phone.

It was coming up to five fifteen in the morning, my mind too fücking warped to find the need to sleep as I pulled the duvet up to my face and scrolled through my messages, my fingers typing replies to the thread of texts.

Whilst I did I picked up on the sound of someone's door opening, my eyebrows furrowing when I double checked the time and wondered who was up so early. I figured out it was Lucien when I heard him mutter things to himself, my thighs pressed together as I rolled on my stomach and stuffed my face into the pillow whilst sighing.

The sudden thought of us in the basement turned gym made me swallow, my tongue swiping over my lips as I turned over onto my back, my hands settling over my stomach before I thrummed my fingers across my skin.

It wasn't news that Lucien was attractive.

The thought of fücking him was one that I'd already thought about, his appearance in Italy being the kick start of images of tattooed hands on my body that distracted my brain, more so now than anything after what happened a few days ago.

I wasn't ashamed to say that I'd happily been assisted by my fingers the moment I'd reached my room straight after beating Lucien, the memory now fogging my mind as I bit my lip and felt the familiar ache begin between my legs.

Fück.

Instinctively I clenched, suddenly happy at the fact that I'd slept in nothing but an old shirt and panties as I smoothed my fingertips over my stomach and then slightly lower, my legs parting as I used two fingers to rub over myself.