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"The two most important days in your life are the day you are born, and the day you find out why."
– Mark Twain
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Salvator's POV:
"So that guy and that guy are brothers," I ask.
"Yeah," She answers.
"And they're vampires, and that girl, with the brown hair is also a vampire?" I ask.
"No, she's a human"
"And which ones the witch?"
"Bonnie," She tells me.
"Got it"
"Really?" She asks me in a suspicious tone.
"Nope, not at all,"
We both look at each other, and she instantly starts giggling, leading me to grow a large smile ear to ear. Her face then softens, and a worried luck flashes over her face.
"what do you do for a living" she asks me.
"You mean my job?"
"Yeah, I mean you live in this massive penthouse, at the top of a huge tower in New York. And you have all of these fancy cars and people working for you. And what happened the other day, I just... I just want to know what you do"
"Do you remember the night in my office when you ran into Matteo, and I told you that I work with dangerous people," I say.
"Yeah, but what do you do?" She asks me.
I'm the Don of the Andolini family, one of the five major families in New York. I have some legal business and some that aren't.
"I own a lot of large businesses. And I work with a lot of dangerous people" Is what I choose to say.
"Are you dangerous?" She asks me.
"Yes."
"Is that why those people came to the house to try and hurt you?" She asks me.
No, because they weren't after me, they were after you. And if I hadn't killed them all, then they would have had you. They would have taken you somewhere, and done whatever they chose.
"Yes," I lie. No need to scare her more than she already is.
"You don't sound sure," she tells me. This girl already knows me too well.
"What they think, and the things that they are going to do are something that I don't know. And I will never know until it happens. But whatever does happen I will always be prepared for. Or at least try my best to be." I reply.
She turns her head again, looking back at the large screen in front of us. As she leans her head against the pillow beside her, I notice a scar running from the bottom of her neck to her shoulder. Instinctively I reach my hand up, touching the scar with my thumb. She looks back up at me, her eyes glowing. Unaware that I have noticed the internal mark on her skin.
YOU ARE READING
Amara
Teen Fiction"What's she called?" He asks. "Amara... Amara Contessa Andolini" I tell them. "An Italian name, for la mia principessa mafiosa.". ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Amara Miller has already lost everything. Her mother...
