I shuffle on the mattress, trying to get comfortable in my brief period of consciousness.
When I try to shuffle though, a large weight holds me down, realising Gigi's somehow made his way on top of me as he sleeps with his head resting in the crook of my neck.
How is he breathing right now-
How am I breathing-
A series of multiple 'dings' from the bedside table pull me further into consciousness however, and Gigi stirs on top of me as well.
I try to reach my hand out to grab the loud phone, but Gigi takes this as an invitation to scoop me up around the waist, and flip us so I was lying on his chest, my legs resting between his. I yelp at the sudden action and narrow my eyes at his smirk, his eyes still closed and feigning sleep.
His arms tighten around my waist, pressing my body onto his hard one-
and I mean hard abs and dick cause of course he's actually hard right now.
"Gigi." I moan frustratedly, trying to wiggle out of his grasp.
"Mhmm, just like that baby." He praises in his rough morning voice, his eyes still closed, "I love it when you moan my name." He mutters and I roll my eyes, despite getting wet at his voice.
So deep and raspy-
The phone dings yet again, and I wiggle away again, Gigi letting me go this time with a childish pout on his lips.
I pick up the phone and see 50+ messages from Andreas, Mateo and some of my brothers.
The fuck?
It's not until I look at the time that my eyes bug out of my fucking head.
We were half a fucking hour late to a meeting with with several underworld mafia bosses who hated our guts for being together.
Well shit.
"Gigi," I say rushed, and he peeks a sleepy eye open to look at me., "we're 30 fucking minutes late, lets move." I stress and he sits up right.
"Fuck," Gigi says worriedly, and I nod along to his understatement, but I should've known better by now, "So we can't have sex before the meeting?" He says, but saying it more like a question than an obvious statement.
I stop my frantic movement around the room, and deadpan my expression at him as he sits cutely in the middle of the rumpled bed.
"No." I emphasise slowly, and his face falls slightly. I roll my eyes and head to our bags rummaging for an outfit to wear.
It was hot as fuck in Italy at the moment, and no way in Hell was I wearing a blazer and pants in this weather. I took about 5 minutes rummaging through my clothes before grabbing some flowy flares and a cropped top to slip on.
YOU ARE READING
Serendipity
Teen FictionCarlotta Angela Vasiliev is a 17 year old girl living with her adoptive Russian mafia family of 4 brothers and father. Ever since she was a child, she's had no sense of belonging, abused by the Swedish mafia in her youth, her Russian saviours are th...