Mob Wife

Mob Wife 2

Hey, tysm for taking a chance on this book. I want to clarify that book starts off in 2014. There's been some confusion on it because of the phone Brooklyn uses. It's based in 2014, but it's a different 2014.

Mob Wife 2: My Own Sketch

Brooklyn was packing up her sketchbook, pencils and the rest of her belongings, not aware of the man that waited for her by the exit of the courtroom doors. There were still some people talking amongst each other while being escorted out by security so the next case can be presented. Brooklyn didn't believe in such change in the Witness's statement. She was sure that Giovanni Marcelo murdered the victim. Brooklyn was the one who sketched him out herself at the precinct. Olivia Coleman was given immediate protection from the police for her corporation, willing to change her entire life around to be put in witness protection.

Now all of a sudden, Olivia had no recollection to what happened?

Brooklyn wasn't buying it.

Brooklyn hadn't gotten any of Olivia's contact information, but she knew the club she works at. Ms. Coleman also dances to provided for herself, though many people would say she isn't great at it.

Brooklyn wanted and planned to speak with her sometime this week on her own. It'll be hard for this case to re-open, especially after the verdict was in, but Brooklyn would do anything to see justice be given.

Her family always admired that about her. Once her mind was set to something, it was happening. Her Mother thought she'll do great as a lawyer or something like that, but Brooklyn's passion was drawing. She figured it'll be one way to to start the process of justice.

Her blackberry had vibrated once in her pocket, Brooklyn knowing it was text. She didn't bother to check it, waning to get home before the rain started back up.

She draped her black bag onto her shoulder, sighing being done with this day. Her hand ached a little from the shading and creating sharp lines, so she tried massaging it while walking from the chair she once sat on. She had her head down, examining her hand, but made sure to keep an eye out for any upcoming feet.

Her hand felt a little better, Brooklyn adjusting her white button up shirt. As she lifted her head, the man she kept stealing glances at early in the morning, stepped in front of her. She abruptly halted her movements, startled by his presence.

She placed her hand on her chest, feeling her heart race a little, "yes?" raising a brow at him.

A smirk formed on Francesco's face as he didn't mean to scare her, "what is your name?" he asked, proud to have gotten a closer look at the woman, finding her brown eyes to be the perfect shade to ever exist. He couldn't believe she was more breath taking up close. Her oval face shape was perfect, the fullness of her lips imbedded in Francesco's mind.

Her skin glowed even on a gloomy day.

Her scent was enchanting, Francisco picking up on the small notes of Vanilla.

As he spoke to her, she noticed there was a small accent lying there. She asks, "my name?" a little taken back. Francesco was a little unsure how this question seemed unusual to her. She had to have been asked that all the time, followed by 'what's your number?' "can I take you out?'

He grins a little, "yes. What is your name?"

"Uh, it's Brooklyn. My name is Brooklyn," she said with a slight head nod.

He wondered if contact with men wasn't consistent in her life; that maybe she stayed home all the time so no one really saw her unless she was out working. That, or she was really nervous around him.