Arabella Malik, the lethal American mob boss's daughter.
The beauty of the nineteen-year-old was well-known. Her hourglass figure and glowing grey eyes-which mirrored her father's, had practically everyone praising the ground she walked on.
Arabella...
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✰ Ａｒａｂｅｌｌａ✰
"𝐂𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤"
The station was a ten-minute walk from Central Park. I led both of us there. It wasn't too late, it was just ten at night, and the park closes at one.
It was one of my favourite locations in New York, and I couldn't believe he hadn't been there. It was simple but beautiful.
I stroll us around the area and straight into the park, passing through skating rinks, meadows, and normal trails until I locate an empty location for us in the popular Sheep meadow.
We come to a halt in the centre of the field, where the grass was freshly cut and fresh, allowing me to let go of his cold hand and sit down on the dry grass.
I raise my eyes to him and pat the spot next to me, and he comes down and sits.
Once he's comfortable, I lay myself out on the grass, leaning my head in his lap and gazing up at the sky.
He leans back on one hand while the other reaches my hair, pulling stray hair away from my face and running his fingers through it softly.
The fresh breeze crosses our skin, I smile at the night above us with the flashing lights of New York reflecting upon it.
"It's a shame you can't really see the stars," I whisper under my breath.
I raise my eyes to him, and he simply stares at me, expressionless. His demeanour had never bothered me; it seemed natural for him to hide his emotions and not express how he felt. And his eyes remained cold, but there was something genuine in them, almost a certain gleam.
His thumb travels up the top of my cheekbone, cupping my cheek in the process.
"I could take you someday," He says matching my quiet tone, I leant into his touch and smiled.
"Where?" I ask, and he looks straight into my eyes, the dark amber so unique and beautiful.
"To see the stars," He answers blankly, his deep accent thick on his tongue.
I smiled heartily as he spoke; he was making me feel everything I hadn't felt before. His way with words had me falling on my knees, but the way he treated me was never something I was used to.
I wondered if he meant it when he stated he wanted to take his time with me. People have usually used me as a wing woman for my brother, for sex or their own pleasure, and some have even appeared to be friends with me to gain access to the famed Malik household.
Apart from the attraction I had for Roman, I seemed to have felt something else, something more than just attraction. He noticed something in me; I could be mistaken, but just knowing he wasn't using me was just enough for me.
