STOLEN || 18+ (Monsters #3)

.31. Maybe

I want to write, but more than that, I want to bring out all kinds of things that lie buried deep in my heart.

-Anne Frank, The Diary of a Young Girl
. . .

Giovanni

I watched her. She was looking out of the window, dressed in a gorgeous red dress. She looked beautiful.

So I told her that.

She smiled shyly, her face heating up. I brushed my knuckles over her cheekbone, wondering just how far down her chest that pretty blush went.

I pulled her to my side, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and closed my eyes. Slowly, she relaxed to my side. The restaurant we had picked was about forty-five minutes away from the estate.

"Is it done?" Fabiano asked someone on the phone in Italian. Probably Luca about the security.

I kept my eyes closed, my fingers brushing over her shoulder and she shivered under my touch. I smirked.

"Giovanni," she whispered.

"Yes, baby?"

I looked down at her.

"C-can I talk to my sister?" Hopeful big dark eyes looked up at me.

I thought about it.

"Yes," I said. "You can. Do you remember her number, hm?"

She nodded eagerly and I took my phone out of my pocket. I handed it to her after unlocking it.

She quickly typed the number in and called her sister. It must be the number Gabriella had saved in the burner phone. Not her actual number from what I knew.

I looked at Fabiano and gave him a small nod. Tracking the number may not do much, but it was worth a shot.

He flicked his laptop open, fingers working.

Gabriella picked the phone up.

"Gabby," Leyla whispered softly.

"Oh my God, Leyla. Why didn't you call me as soon as you reached? I was worried sick!" I could hear her loud voice in the quiet car.

She must have recognised the unknown number and decided to play it safe.

I gave a look to Leyla which told her to play along.

"I couldn't. I'm sorry. How are you? How is Astrid?"

She didn't ask about Leona and her father. I didn't know much about Leona except what Olivia had told me - a cold bitch with too good art skills. Skills which could rival Olivia's - which was saying something as the little Creed was a brilliant artist.

Fabiano nodded at me, telling me he was done tracking.

I let Leyla talk to her sister as long as she wanted to. I took her hand into mine, looking at the ring finger.

Yes, I wanted to marry her. I knew she didn't think the same. She thought we wanted her for her body. It had been right when we saw her. I wanted to throw her father out and buy myself in her, fisting her wet hair.

But then she had looked at me with those large eyes of hers and the raw need of fucking her was replaced by wanting to tuck her to my chest and kill everyone who dare touch her.

And then came disgust. I was attracted to the daughter of the man who was responsible for my sister's death. I was supposed to get Leyla just to show that I could. I was supposed to strip Jack off everything he had.

Wanting Leyla has never been in the plan.

I looked at her. She didn't deserve what we had done to her. She had been through bad shit, it was clear. When we formed the plan after finding out who Jack really was behind his political smiles, we predicted Leyla would be another pampered princess.

But she wasn't. She was everything I hadn't expected her to be.

I took a ring off my little finger and I slid it on her thumb. She looked at me and then at the expensive ring decorating her perfect hand, her lips moving as she talked to her sister.

I waited for her to take it off and give it back to me, or toss it out of the car, but she didn't.

She kept her eyes fixed on the ring as she talked.

I knew she thought I wanted her body.

But that was not it. That was just me being an idiot and hurting her.

I'd tell her what I really wanted and then maybe Fabiano and I could court her. Maybe then she'll eventually want to be with us. Maybe she'll be half as obsessed with us as we were with her.

Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

Leyla had turned my whole fucking life into a blur. Nothing made sense anymore.

Nothing but her.

She made sense to me.

Too much sense.

She was going to be a weakness, I knew that. But a woman like Leyla...it didn't feel right to call her a weakness.

No, someone like her could only be a strength.

I'd kill anyone who thought otherwise.

I kissed the back of her hand as she walked out of the car after it has stopped. She gave me my phone back and I silently slid it inside the pocket of my suit jacket.

Then, she looked up at the large building. It was a hotel we owned, one of the many, and on the top of it was a restaurant.

Fully booked for tonight.

. . .

Do y'all like Leyla?