Chapter One

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Antonio watched as she pulled her curly hair into a messy bun, walking out of the storeroom. She had just taken off her apron, still dusted with what he presumed to be flour.

He looked at his second-in-command, Rafael and had to restrain himself from clocking him in his jaw when Antonio saw him check out the girl. Rafael looked back at him and quickly regained his composure, trying to hide what he had just done with a cough.

Antonio looked down at his watch, checking the time. As much as he wanted to stay there all day, watching her, he knew he had work to do. He'd come back for her once everything was sorted out.

With one last glance, he watched her, dancing to music as she cleaned. Her hips swaying to the beat of the sound.

He pictured her doing something entirely different with her hips with him, making his knuckles turn white as he gripped the steering wheel. He left before he let his temptations get the best of him.

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For as long as she could remember Arabella has always been on her own. Her mother was an abusive drunk and her father never bothered to make the effort to stay in her life. He had left the two of them when he heard her mother was pregnant.

Personally, Arabella couldn't be bothered with him, she figured why should she cry over something that she's never really had, ya know? Although it didn't affect her, it took a big toll on her mother, who was head over heels in love with him. Once her mother gave birth, she went into post-partum depression and turned to alcohol, dabbling a little in drugs.

Arabella basically grew herself up and moved out at the age of sixteen. For about a week, she was homeless, living out of a box before she met her best friend, Sofia. Sofia came from a rich family, but wasn't very involved with their business.

She fixed Arabella up and took her in. Sofia soon became like a sister to her. She was only a year older than Arabella, although she lived on her own, provided that she had protection.

Sofia told her it was a part of the deal if she was to live on her own. She was originally from Italy, like Arabella.
Arabella wasn't stupid, she knew Sofia pitied her but that didn't mean that she'd take advantage of Sofia's kindness. Arabella found a job at a tiny bakery, near their apartment, to pay rent to Sofia.

Sofia was the only person who knew of her past, and what followed.

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Arabella had just cleaned up the bakery, after closing and was on her way out. She walked to the back, changed out of her uniform, and into a light hoodie and sweatpants. She let her hair out of her ponytail, massaging her scalp as the tension slowly dissipated.

She walked back to the front and reached for her purse, on the shelf under the register. Unable to help herself, she checked the register once more, making sure it was locked.

She switched off the lights, and grabbed her umbrella on her way out. It was pouring outside and she knew either way, she'd be drenched by the time she got home.

She turned around, feeling as if eyes were on her, but she couldn't see anything. Shrugging the feeling off, she went to open the backdoor.

She felt a large hand on her waist, the other hand clamping down on her mouth, muting her quite effectively.

Her heart raced, her breathing becoming shaky. She was never good under pressure, her anxiety always got the best of her.

Mint and spices wafted to her, and as much as she knows she should be scared out of her mind, she couldn't help but inhale the scent.

"Night, il mio fiore," a deep voice whispered into her ear.
[Translation: my flower]

It was gruff, as if gravel was stuck in his throat. Arabella could vaguely understand him. A thick accent coming off from him.

The reality of what is happening to her becoming too overwhelming. Her vision blurred, darkness overtaking her sight.

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