Sloan. 17 years old. Billionaire. Mafia Queen.
At the age of 2 Sloan was kidnapped from her family by her father's second in command and taken to Spain. He was psychotic and was obsessed with Sloan from birth.
Till the age of 10 she experienced c...
Groaning into the pillow I felt around for my phone to turn off the monotone ringing of the alarm. I thought for a long second about my surroundings when I sat up then sighed remembering the events of the past few days. I dressed quickly after finishing my quick morning routine.
When I passed the mirror, I retracted my steps contemplating the shirt that showed off my tattoos that peeked from under the sleeves of the shirt and on my mid-section not so discreetly. I wouldn't be there all the time anyway so it will have to do.
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You can imagine anything.
Littering my tattooed finger with a few rings to finish the outfit, I followed the booming voices to the kitchen. My phone kept going off since this morning all saying the same thing. That the Italians were making moves that were careless and uncoordinated, almost like they wanted to be caught, which they did each time they sent someone to the warehouses.
Blaise was the first to speak upon my arrival in the kitchen, "Good morning, would you mind taking Enora to school with you this morning?" As she asked the questioned, she glanced at her watch, seeming to be in a hurry, "I'm late for a meeting and Nolan already left for swimming practice."
"Sure." I muttered plainly, moving to get something to eat but I stopped upon seeing the plate already made for me at the counter.
Satisfied with my answer she smiled, turning on her heel and stalking out the kitchen and out the house, not before kissing them goodbye, not even bothering to try with me. I honestly wasn't entertained so she read the mood correctly.
"Are you ready?" I questioned to Enora when I had finished eating. She snapped up from the pages of the book she was reading, nodding quickly and falling right back into it as she stood from her seat to follow.
She said very little in the time I was here, not that it bothered me honestly, but I didn't miss her many curious glances. They tried to make it a point that she was conceived before I was kidnapped, to ease some inner conflict with themselves it seemed because that was honestly the last thing on my mind.
She was so engrossed in that book that I had to guide her to the car in the parking lot. This was all new to me, being in a house with these people that never existed in my mind before a few days ago. They're family, biologically that is. But no evil was going to make me resent people I never knew my entire life. To me they were as much as a stranger I passed on the road and showed no interest in, neither good nor bad.
I followed the GPS location to the school, reaching there in no time. Enora never uttered a word, only the soft sound of the pages of her book turning and the soft hum of the car was heard.
"I can show you to the office, if you want." It looked like it took a lot out of her to mutter those words to me quietly on our way inside the school. I nodded silently, meeting her stare for a split second before she looked away. I couldn't tell if she was shy or just nervous in my presence. Or maybe it was from the stares that fell upon us as we moved through the slightly crowded halls. Then I thought about it again and it couldn't even be that she was born a D'Aboville that means she was born in the limelight, so it was very little chance she shied away from it.
"Thank you." I nodded at her once when we got the doors that said office. The woman at the reception desk took her time in giving me a timetable and school map that I was barely going to use. My original plan was always to use the whole school thing as a cover to go about my life but I still had to be cautious.
Expecting to meet an empty hall after leaving minutes after the bell rang, instead I met Enora backed into the wall right outside the office, three other girls surrounding her. I waited for a minute undetected watching to see what she would do. No way was the daughter of a powerful mafia unprepared for danger.
I sighed when she made no move and the girl in the middle kept up her childish jabs at hurtful words.
"Are you ready?" I settled for acting like I didn't see them, only making eye contact with them.
She nodded almost jerkily, attempting to step around them to me but the ringleader stopped her.
"We are having a conversation here; would you mind leaving?" I didn't react to the sentence, reaching forward and gripping her wrist to pull her out of their strategic wall.
"Tell her to leave you little brat or else."
"Or else what?" I spoke up before Enora could say anything finally looking to the dirty blonde girl.
"Or else we'll have to make sure you get the same thing she gets." I held back my sneer of disgust. The entire situation was too childish for what looked like seniors.
"Let's go Enora." She followed where I gestured, squeezing out of them and standing at my side.
"My name is Starcy and you really shouldn't be with people like her, you'll sit with us at lunch." I drew back internally, giving them each a slow once over to make sure I heard her right.
"I won't be sitting anywhere with you Stacy so do us a favour and leave her alone."
"It's Starcy!" I only managed a low grunt as I turned on my heel and went along, only after making sure Enora was following.
"Where's your class?" I questioned looking down to her height.
"You don't have to really; I can show you since it's your first day here." She shot back timidly, giving me a small smile.
"I'm sure I'll manage." She held my stare, her inner conflict showing but I didn't back down. When she sighed and gestured for me to follow, I hummed.
"We got a flat tyre, that's why she's late." I lied to her teacher when we got to her class. I had a feeling that if I didn't her no doubt clean track record would be wiped away with detention.
It was no effort to find my class using the map. I was a bit put out that I didn't get to choose to be late but had to be because of the amount of obtuse persons I've already dealt with for the morning.
"Name." The teacher spoke up monotony upon my arrival in the class, sparing a lazy glance over her reading glasses.
"Sloan."
"No last name, perfect."
I heard her clearly as I walked past her desk to the vacant seat next to the window. All the prying glances of the once talkative class went by me as I sat. With such beauty I was more than accustomed to the stares, if you don't mind, I say so myself.
"Another D'Aboville," She pulled down the glasses as she said that studying me after studying the sheet before her. I hummed at the fact that she even tried to find my name on it.
"That explains it." Judgement rolled off her in waves, no doubt watching the tattoos that were noticeable to the eye.
That didn't go unnoticed by the class as the they erupt in whispers.
Halfway through the class when they calmed and fell back into what she was teaching, one stare remained. I didn't have to search for it as I looked away from the view of the window and met the light grey eyes of a boy across the class.
His stared wavered slightly when we made eye contact, but he didn't look away as I tilted my head slightly. His shabby brown hair shaded his features of defined cheek bones and jaw. The hard stare he gave me made me slightly amused because I could sense the apprehension in his eyes yet he still held my stare.
Giving him a subtle nod, I turned away first, still very much amused.
At lunch the stares continued, but I stared at one person. He sat across the cafeteria in that grey sweatshirt, picking at his food. I found that my mind strayed to the most uncontrolled thoughts. By the end of the day my social battery died, and I was manifesting displeasure.
