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 ✰
"𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧"
We drove through the city, we saw numerous dark, bulky buildings, as well as a large number of tourists and buses.
The city was more than what I imagined. I've seen a lot of photos and videos on the internet, but nothing compares to the genuine thing.
Seeing the foreign towns was more than breathtaking. As we drove farther into the city, the driver took us up a steep hill that was lined with the most luxurious homes with high-end roofing.
Right as we had made it to the very top, my eyes simply widened at the house at the very top of the hill.
It was a vast mansion with a dreary colour scheme—the sole source of colour was a cream paste that covered the whole structure.
It appeared as if hundreds of people could live inside the house, as it was both large and towering, rising above the trees around it.
The vehicle came to a standstill, luring me away from the magnificent property. I took note as the driver had come around to my side of the car, opening the door for me.
Smiling, I take his extended hand as he helps me out of the limousine. My cool skin is already greeted by the warm air whereas I smile at that.
This was as refreshing as the air. All of this was refreshing, new even.
An arm gets placed around my waist and I look up, seeing my boyfriend. His amber eyes glowed raw beneath the sun as he leant down and pressed a plush kiss against the side of my cheek.
I blushed and returned my gaze to the mansion. "This is your place?" I question him, directing my attention to him. He looked at me and nodded, emotionlessly.
"I love it," I said, softly nodding my head while peering around the area. He smirked and patted my hip twice as he moved in front of me.
Taking my hand, he glanced at me from over his shoulder and nodded towards the home—I grinned as he started walking—dragging me along with him.
A bulky man at the front of the house opened both of the large doors, revealing the inside of the enormous home.
The house's spacious entrance was the first thing that welcomed us. The floors were honed marble tiles, and the walls were a linen white colour that matched the furniture.
Further down the house, there was a long, dark spiral staircase that immediately reminded me of a fantasy film. Along the walls, there were a variety of artworks that piqued my interest.
I packed virtually all of my art supplies in one of my suitcases because I knew I'd use them while travelling—since I would be getting more than enough inspiration to draw and paint.
