I didn't exactly choose to be stolen at four years old.
But the French underworld isn't big on consent.
One minute I was Donatella Acardi, Mafia royalty. The next? Just another stolen kid bleeding in someone else's basement.
That's where I met Ami...
Hey guys!!! I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for not posting in a while and that I am thankful for all the support and how I have over 500 views after only a couple of chapters. That's amazing!!
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Donatella's POV:
The bathroom was the size of a small apartment.
I had no business being in a place with marble floors, gold faucet swans, and a chandelier in the damn ceiling—just to brush my teeth. The mirror was bigger than my future, and I was currently glaring into it while massaging a $300 night cream into my face like I hadn’t spent the day being interrogated by long-lost mafia relatives with emotional constipation.
“Okay,” I muttered to myself, rubbing upward like the tutorial said, “maybe they get one point. One. Because this cleanser? Chef’s kiss.”
I turned my head, inspecting my skin. Clean. Glowy. No breakouts. I actually looked like I slept eight hours and hadn’t just been through a mental apocalypse. My eyes trailed over the expensive lineup on the counter: moisturizers, serums, cleansers, toners… one of those fancy LED face masks that looked like it belonged in a horror movie.
I snorted. “Jesus, were they trying to resurrect me or polish a Ferrari?”
Behind me, Amir’s muffled voice floated through the room.
“Did you die? Should I call the skincare hotline?”
“I’m alive,” I called back. “Just having a moment with my pores.”
“Tell them I said hi.”
I smirked, finishing my routine with a spritz of hydrating mist that cost more than my old rent. I stared at my reflection, fluffing my hair slightly, and muttered, “Honestly? I’d kidnap me too if I knew I’d glow like this one day.”
I opened the door dramatically, letting the spa-scented steam roll out like I was in a dramatic slow-mo scene from an overly budgeted K-drama. “I’m a new woman,” I announced.
Amir looked up from where he was lying on my bed, arms behind his head. “Oh good. I was worried. Your cheeks didn’t have enough dew on them earlier.”
I rolled my eyes and walked over, poking his leg. “Move over.”
He blinked. “Wait… what?”
“You heard me. Move. Over.”
Amir’s brows rose, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Oh? You want cuddles?”
I shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal. “I’m not trying to be alone with my thoughts tonight. My thoughts are assholes. You’re a better alternative.”
Amir laughed, scooting to the side dramatically. “Wow. The romance. I feel so honored.”
