He is a force to be reckoned with. A lift of his finger & people are beheaded in seconds. A word from him & the streets of NY are bathed in blood. Any evil deed, you name it & he has done it. Vicious, nefarious, brutal & downright cruel. Majestic in...
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Anastasia's POV:~
As I stand in front of the mirror, checking myself for the umpteenth time and smoothing my hands over the invisible creases in my dress, my nerves play games with me.
I hope, I am presentable enough for the date.
Damn Alessando for not even telling me where we are going!
My phone vibrates on my bed and I look up at the clock. Sharp eight. Just as he said.
Unlocking the screen, Alessandro's name flashes before my eyes.
“Open the door.”
This man!
I told him to wait outside. But no. He has to be a complete gentleman tonight.
Taking the keys with me, I open the door, instantly blinded by the sight of his glorious self. He looks what people say- panty-droppingly handsome and an uninvited feeling clenches my lower regions.
A huge bouquet of jade vines adorn his arm, small white baby’s breaths peeking from here and there, enhancing the beauty.
I stifle a gasp.
How did he know my favourite flowers?
More than that how did he arrange these in such a short time?
Cause jade vines are fucking rare and he did not even know if I was going to say yes just two hours ago.
I notice his dark gaze sweeping over my outfit, leaving me flustered. He takes his time checking me out from head to toe, not bothered at all that I can see him doing it.
When his eyes meet mine after a long moment of perusal and no words of compliment come out, my heart drops in disappointment.
I put so much effort in getting ready just for him to say nothing.
Great start!
“For you.” Alessando hands the bouquet to me and I thank him, placing the flowers in a vase on my living room table.
Returning, I stop before him, not knowing what to say after our last encounter.
He analyses each one of my movements intently, from the slight swaying of my feet to the tugging of my dress.
My eyes snap up to him when he frees the fabric from the confines of my fingers and takes it up to his mouth, lips brushing against my knuckles as he lays a kiss there, his face emotionless.
“Il mio bellissimo angelo.” His sinful mouth whispers.
(My beautiful angel.)
I do not know what that means but it does nothing to lessen the ache between my legs.
