•The Assassin Series•
"And through all the pain you caused, I still look at you as if you painted the sky." ~K.R
-----«•»-----
Anastasia Romano is very upbeat and happy girl despite everything she has been through.
She is a lot like her mother, Alan...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Chapter Two
Silence surrounds me as I get dressed—fishnet leggings, a red thigh strap on top with a silver heart in the middle, a black skater skirt, a black sweater that bunches up at the end, a matching red choker, crystal necklaces, some rings and bracelets, my favorite earring set, and my black Doc Martens.
I grab my angled brush and coat it with some black eye shadow, using it to line the water line of my eyes. My brown and blue eyes pop beneath my mascara coated lashes as I cover my cheeks and the tip of my nose with a light blush. Afterwards, I pop some cherry chapstick on and head out of my room.
Tyler seems happier than normal so just as I reach him, I bite my lip and start thrusting my hips, eyebrows raised. He tries to hide his smile and tilts his head.
"Did my lil' cousin get some last night?" I inquire, keeping my voice an octave lower.
He rolls his eyes and swallows his food, his eyes full of mischief. "Maybe."
"What was it?" I smirk, "Dick or some gorilla grip?"
His eyes widen at my vulgar language and he is quick to smack my arm, leaving me to whine and hold my sore arm to my chest. Then, he mumbles something inaudible under his breath and my eyebrows furrow.
"Huh?"
"Igotsomedick.." he rushes out.
"You what?"
"I. Got. Some. Dick!" my eyes widen. Oops. A slow smile tugs at the corners of my lips before I ruffle his hair, jumping up and down in the process. "Also!" he declares, "I'm older than you."
"Fuck off." I smile.
Sitting down at the table, I push my unruly hair out of my face—thanks mom, for the wavy hair, by the way—and purse my lips, tapping my fingers along the mahogany wood table. Soon, the maid, Rose, my love, walks in with plates of food on a tray, setting them in their designated spots. Rose smiles sweetly at all of us, dropping that smile when it comes to my father, Uncle Caleb, and Uncle Thomas.
Her head bows in respect as she sets their plates down before rushing out of the room. Slowly, my head turns till I face my father and I send him a meaningless glare, picking up my fork as I do so and taking a bite of the egg whites that were made for me.
"Principessa," he warns, "drop the glare. We all know it doesn't mean anything. Rose is a maid, nothing else. She works for me—I mean," He laughs awkwardly and glances at my mother who sits with a singular eyebrow raised. "She works for our family and she shall be treated like any other worker, no matter how long she has been working for us."
