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✰
"𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐟"
The throbbing in my head pulled me out of my slumber. I fluttered my eyes open, grateful that there was no light in the room.
I sat up on my elbows with a groan and rubbed my eyes with one hand. I looked around the room after adjusting my vision and immediately leapt off the bed when I realised it wasn't my room.
"Oh shit." I grumbled as I stumbled around the bed, heading for the door that I believed was the exit.
The door burst open as my hand reached for the doorknob, and I staggered back, landing flat on my ass.
"Shit," Grunted a familiar deep voice.
When I raised my eyes from the ground, I was welcomed by Roman, who had reached down to lift me. Knowing I wasn't in some random's house, my shoulders quickly relaxed.
With his hands under my arms, he raised me off the ground, and I stabilised myself with my palms on his large biceps.
"Thanks," I murmured shyly.
When I glanced back up at him, he was already looking at me, amused.
"You okay?" He asked as he carefully drew his hands from under my arms.
I took a step back and turned to face him, nodding.
He was dressed in standard grey sweatpants, a black hoodie, and sneakers. His loose curls were damp and drooped over his forehead, indicating that he had just showered.
Returning my gaze to his eyes, I noticed that he was staring at me already with his intense eyes. When I realised he must have seen me checking him out, I blushed and swallowed.
"Um, where's the bathroom?" I murmured, frequently shifting my gaze from his eyes to his lips.
He put one of his tatted hands into his pocket and nodded towards something behind me.
The door to the restroom was open when I looked in that direction. I puffed my cheeks in amusement at my stupidity and walked into the bathroom without further humiliation.
After my much-needed release, I cleaned my teeth with an unopened toothbrush from the cabinet. I sighed contentedly as I splashed cool water over my face, which miraculously calmed my sore head.
I exited the bathroom after drying my face and walked over to Roman, who was standing against the threshold.
He looked up from his phone and looked me in the eyes, then tucked the phone away and extended his hand. I took his hand in mine and followed him out of the room.
My gaze was drawn to the mansion's darkish exterior, which was unremarkably gorgeous. We made our way down the black marble, spiral staircase that led to a kitchen.
