Mafia king and demon, Noah Gabriel is everyone's fear, and the very mention of his name makes one shudder.
Everyone adores Isabella Rose Robinson, who is known as an angel, and she has her unique style of speaking.
After they meet, Noah forces her...
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Isabella's POV:
I wake up feeling a comforting weight on my chest. Opening my eyes, I find Noah's face nestled against me, his arms wrapped tightly around me. I attempt to move, but his grip only tightens, pulling me closer while he hums softly in his sleep.
A smile tugs at my lips despite the heaviness in my heart. His disheveled hair falls over his forehead, and I gently brush it aside, savoring this tender moment.
After what feels like an eternity, Noah stirs, lifting his head to gaze at me with a sleepy smile. He places a gentle kiss on my forehead.
"Did I die and enter heaven?" he murmurs, his voice hushed with affection. "Morning, amore."
"Morning, babe," I reply, my heart fluttering at his endearing smile.
"Let's get breakfast outside," he suggests, burying his face in the crook of my neck, his breath warm against my skin.
His phone rings, breaking the serene moment. He curses softly under his breath, reluctantly disentangling himself from me to answer the call. His voice shifts to its usual business-like tone, cold and impersonal.
As soon as he hangs up, his gaze softens when he meets mine. "Everything okay?" I ask, rising from the bed and wrapping my arms around his muscular arm.
"I have to go to the cells later today," he replies, his voice tinged with frustration.
"It's okay. We can go after breakfast, and—" I start to say, but he cuts me off.
"Isabella, no. I don't want you coming with me. It's dangerous."
"Stop saying that," I say, pressing closer to him and gazing up with pleading eyes. "I might get kidnapped or worse, and you wouldn't be able to protect me if you're not there."
He tries to break the eye contact, but I hold firm. After a moment of hesitation, he sighs in defeat. "Alright. But you have to stay by my side the entire time."
I let out a victorious laugh, and we quickly dress. I choose a white dress with straps and Converse sneakers, while he dons a casual black suit with the jacket left off and the top buttons undone. He looks effortlessly handsome.
A smirk plays on his lips as he catches me admiring him a bit too long. He walks over and places a tender kiss on the crook of my neck. "You look beautiful," he says, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "So fucking beautiful."
Hand in hand, we head to his car. He opens the passenger door for me—a gesture that makes my heart swell. He closes the door behind me and slides into the driver's seat.
As he drives, his hand rests on my left thigh, his fingers gently massaging the sensitive skin. I fight to ignore the butterflies fluttering in my stomach and the heat rising to my cheeks.
"Take my phone and play the music you like," he says, his gaze focused on the road.
I take his phone, noticing my picture as his lock screen. My heart skips a beat, and I feel a surge of affection. I unlock the phone with the password he provided—7673—and open Spotify.
"Pretty Boy" by The Neighbourhood begins to play, and I hum along.
"You like this song?" I ask.
"Believe it or not, I've grown fond of The Neighbourhood," he admits, a smile tugging at his lips.
As the music fills the car, I glance at him and see him smiling. The sight makes my heart swell.
We arrive at a charming restaurant with a view of the coast, its beauty almost magical. He opens the door for me, and we walk in to a table by the window. The waiter greets us with a smile, and Noah places our order before turning to me.
"I think you need to smile more often. It suits you," I say, crossing my arms playfully.
"I fucking hate smiling. I don't see the point," he retorts, though his eyes soften when he looks at me.
"But you smile around me," I counter, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes, only around you. You're the reason for my happiness. You've changed me," he says, his words striking a deep chord within me. His vulnerability is both comforting and heart-wrenching.
As we enjoy our meal, he reveals, "I own this restaurant and the one we visited when you first arrived. I own several others."
I'm taken aback. "I didn't know you owned restaurants."
"Exactly. No one else does, except us," he says, his gaze warm with trust.
After finishing our meal, he gets me avocado juice, and we return to the car. Once again, his hand finds its way to my thigh, squeezing gently. He hands me his phone to choose the music, and I select "I Feel It Coming" by The Weeknd.
The ride is filled with music and laughter, with me singing my heart out. I glance at Noah, who is smiling genuinely for the first time today.
Arriving back at the office, he guides me to a comfortable chair and leaves to handle some tasks. I watch movies on his computer, feeling a sense of contentment.
When Noah returns, he sits in front of me, pulling me onto his lap. My legs stretch across his thighs as I rest my head on his shoulder. His presence is soothing
As I absentmindedly reach for a pen on his desk, I begin drawing small hearts, stars, and an "R" on his hand, tracing them gently. The simple act is a token of my affection.
Before I realize it, I've fallen asleep, the day's events fading away in the warmth of Noah's embrace.
I saw a pen on his table. I reached for it, but I didn't see any papers nearby, so I grabbed the hand that was wrapped around my waist and started drawing on the back of his hand under his thumb.
I drew a heart, then a star, followed by an R letter. They were all small and didn't take much space. Then I placed the pen back on the table and continued to lay on his shoulder.
He smelled amazing as usual, and sometimes I keep on thinking, If I deserve him, what did I do in life to get this man? I felt a soft kiss placed against my cheek and my hair being removed from my face.
