Top Secret - Harry Styles Spy Story

Welcome to Top Secret! I hope everyone enjoys reading this story as much as I loved writing. Thank you so much for getting me where I am today, so I send a lot of love your way.

Check my other stories: Top Secret 2 the sequel, The Mafia's Daughter, along with the others. Again, thanks so much. Make sure you check these ones out!

Muah! Love you all!

-Hey everyone. I'm going through to edit some mistakes and maybe add some things here and there, thanks!-

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Prologue:

Rosalia's POV:

The sound of my alarm clock, awoke me from my flashback in my dream.

My heavy breathing made me sweaty so I wiped the beads of sweat from my forehead. The nightmares cause anxiety and I'm surprised I haven't had any attacks yet. Usually the dreams are vivid and come in flashes every now and then. I can't help but wish they would stop but it's all that I have left of them..

As the morning sun was shining through my window, I could see the litle bits of dust flying around the room. They looked like snowflakes, but prettier. I could hear the birds chirping and the ocean moving, swaying, from side to side.

I sit up, sifting my hands through my hair to get it off my face.

Groaning, I start to remember it all;

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"Rosalia.."

"Rosalia wake up."

I open my eyes, look up, look around and try to make sense of what is going on and my vision is hazey, making it hard to see.

"Thank god, you're awake!"

"Who is it? I can't see.." I say. My heartbeat was quickening every second that went by. I could feel the sweat forming on my back and my head.

"It's you're aunt, Giavanna. Do you know why I'm here?" she asks holding my hands.

Aunt? Giavanna? Who? Oh. Her.

I could finally feel my vision returning, and things unblurring, the room stopped spinning which was nice. I turn my head over to the side of me and I see my aunt Giavanna sitting there beside me, with furrowed brows and a worried expression on her face.

Giavanna was a tall, slender but built woman. She had long black hair and piercing blue eyes. Eyes that would catch you and grab you. Her hair was soft and flowing, making me remember I inherited the silk feeling from her, except my hair is brown.

Her voice was soothing, like the waves on the beach. It reminded me of the days she would sing to me with my mother. Long, soft, Italian lullabies. She is fit, and had a great shape for her age, even though she is only around her late thirties, early fourties.

Aunt Giavanna was always mysterious to me. It was just something about her.

But back to reality.

"What? What do you mean?" I ask.

"You don't remember the accident?" she asks concerned.

I could feel my hands turning clammy and sweaty, the hair standing up on my arms and I could feel my heart pounding faster in my chest.