𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺.
The woman of impeccable beauty was the infinite definition of her name. Calm and poise.
Born into a violent life of guns and knives, you would assume a Mafia Princess like her would be training and preparing to be the next heir...
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The music artist that plays on the radio softly hums through his speakers, allowing the silence to be fulfilled.
Heat prosecuted from the leather seats, something I was genuinely grateful for. It was pretty cold in the outfit I was wearing, even if it was warmer when I had changed into it... but now with the temperature change, my bare legs were to turn blue anytime soon.
We've been driving for a while now, staying on the one road but swerving numerously into different lanes in between seconds and minutes.
Silver and I haven't spoken since before entering his car. There had been only silence, though I wished to change that even if I hated starting conversations.
Where do you even start?
"What do you want to know?" I muster up the words, replaying the short memory of him saying that he wanted to get to know me from the party.
I look in his direction, applying my gaze to his spread legs and lowered hips, straining my eyes away from the middle part of his sweats that constricted his most private area. Am I in heat tonight?... my god.
Jumping my gaze back, I adjust my lower half in my seat, rising up again.
"Anything." He replies nonchalantly, gradually slowing to a stop at a red light.
Breathing in deeply, I sigh as I try to think of things to say about myself.
I look down at the Lilly in my hand, brushing the petals with my finger delicately.
"I love flowers," I say eventually, "My favourite colour is—
"Lilac," He cuts me off, looking at me, "I remember."
Frowning, I narrow my eyes in on him, "What if I had changed the colour?"
Rolling his eyes, he speeds back down the road, lightly controlling the wheel with one hand while resting the other on his thigh as it travels along the muscle.
Butterflies corrupt in my belly unexpectedly, my eyes watch his cold gaze concentrate along the road as he speaks again.
"And have you?"
It was my turn to roll my eyes.
"Nope," I pop the P with a little too much...pop. Sarcasm rolls off of me and he finds satisfaction in that—telling by the little tug on his lips.
"And is yours still Ivory?" I raise a brow and he gives me that squirming, pantie dropping smile again, "It is." He answers blandly.
A sudden flash of light draws my attention to his wrist, where his expensive watch rests, and the inked name of his presumably favourite colour is written on the back of his wrist.
