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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My mind runs wild in all sorts of directions as the cool, wet texture hits my skin.
Silver was currently sterilizing the area he was going to tattoo on me. I had no doubts that he'd be more than a professional at this, although my brain was freaking out about how much pain I'd be in.
Which was quite stupid where I should actually be worrying about the fact I'll be having ink on me for the rest of my life.
You can always get it layered off.
That'll also hurt like a bitch, Serene.
"Serenity." He calls my name, snapping my head out of the gutter.
"Yes?" I look up at him sheepishly, pursing my lips.
Taking my chin between his fingers, he tilts my head in his direction for my gaze to meet his.
"Breathe, Amore." He relaxes his fingertips, dancing them across my jaw and down behind my neck.
I look into his eyes and nod once again slowly, inhaling and exhaling through my nose.
"Lie back for me." He requests tenderly, slowly removing his fingers and stepping back enough for me to settle back down.
"If you need me to stop, tell me, Sí?"
For a split second, I scan him, seeing nothing but sincerity. It was too good to be true, how completely sweet he could be, how genuine. It was reducing my highest standards, and the smallest of things made me completely obsessed.
"Sí." I reply back, realising that he was waiting for my reply.
The machine turned on, but before he could continue, one of his large hands held up a mirror, revealing the exact location of the tattoo.
"That good there?" Silver arches his brow flawlessly, his black hair above distracting me.
I bite my lower lip, feeling a little giddy as excitement rises in goosebumps.
"Perfect, thank you." A genuine smile graces my lips, and he reciprocates with a small smile of his own.
When he removed the mirror, his face had returned to its emotionless mask. His arched brows were seamlessly relaxed, his eyes focused yet blank, giving the impression that he was bored with what he was doing.
His hair was unruly, falling down his forehead in a trestle of locks—making him look utterly hot.
Each feature of his was structured definably and strong—his cheekbones so defined, his cheeks sunken and hollow, and his lips lushly plump and shaped perfectly between his chin and nose.
I could feel my heart rate begin to pick up from how intimidating his beauty was. Surely he could have anyone in this world, yet here he was in front of me, tattooing my skin.
