𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐄𝐥𝐢𝐣𝐚𝐡 ✔️ | 18+

𝐅 𝐎 𝐔 𝐑

*NOT EDITED*
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His voice shook me out of my reminiscing thoughts. "Thanks, John." I nodded at him. I turned around exiting the car when I was pushed.

"Dammit! And I told myself I wasn't gonna bump into anyone this time." He chuckled as a bunch of different things dropped from his hands. "I'm so sorry, you look like a pretty important person."

"No worries, I should have paid more attention, Mr..." I asked.

"Thompson, Alex Thompson Sir."

"Well Mr. Thompson, I'm sorry if there has been any damage to," I looked down to the mess. "The pieces of property that you have." I said, my lips twitching up a bit. I put my hands in my pocket looking for cash to give the poor man. "As a matter of fact, here you go. Buy yourself something good, Alex." I said giving him a wad of cash. I saw the hesitant look in his eyes, so I took his hand and turned around. And then something strange happened.

It was like a movie where the character was walking in slow motion. All I could do was focus on her, with her curves and the way her curly, long hair flew back as she walked. Her smile as she laughed made her face glow. her friend to her left was laughing with her and, giving a quick glance to the one on the right, I'm guessing she wasn't thinking it was funny since she rolled her eyes.

But my attention went back to the girl in the middle. She looked about 24 years old.

She was wearing black leggings, and a black long sleeved crop top paired with what I believed were black and white Jordan 1's. It was a simple outfit but I could tell that if she really put thought into what she was wearing, nobody would keep their eyes off her.

(Her outfit😏)

She didn't look at anyone else other than her friends, and if she wasn't looking at them, she was looking at the ground which makes me believe she's shy. She walks with confidence yet, she won't look anyone else in the eyes. She's totally oblivious to the men looking at her like they wanna take her clothes of right then and there.

Does she not realize how gorgeous she is? I thought.

(A/N: PLEASE WELCOME MISS ZARIAH MARTINEZ)

Wait. What the fuck! I don't even know the girl. And I'm not one to chase after a woman anyways. What is this, 5 minutes in New York and I'm already thinking about a woman who doesn't even know who I am.

WAIT WHAT THE FUCK! I SOUND PATHETIC.

Come one Elijah. You're a fucking don. You could get any woman you want!

Oh god, I sound like my father.

I shake my head violently trying to forget about my thoughts.

I open the entrance to my building. "Hey Mr. Moretti!" Lisa the secretary says in a monotone voice, trying, keyword trying, to sound seductive. I look away trying to hide the look of disgust on my face. Let's just say Lisa has a reputation around here.

"Lisa." I nodded my head at her making sure to add a hint of hate in my eyes. Fanculo, we hooked up once. ONCE! And she hasn't left me alone. That shit was years ago! God, one day i'm going to just put a bullet through her head. A small smile escapes my lips thinking of her extinction but I quickly hide it so she doesn't get any ideas.

DING!

I step inside the elevator, putting my hands on the scanner so it takes me straight to my private penthouse. My penthouse in America is like the same with all my penthouses. Dark Interior. I don't give a shit what my personal designer does but it has to have a dark interior no matter what. I just hate having a lot of white in my house unlike a lot of people I know. Oh gosh, especially their wives putting white everywhere. I mean, I'm okay with putting white here and there but not so much.

Just simple yet, elegant and luxurious.

I make it to my bedroom and I exhale slowly. Fuck, I'm exhausted. First a fucking surprise trip to the airport, and then my men think they can walk all over me. I jump into the shower, stripping fast so I can feel the hot water untense my muscles.

I find myself smiling remembering how I was thinking about my mother. Fuck Ma, I miss you so much. I feel myself frowning.

I can't deal with this shit right now.

You've ever wondered how it is to have an internal battle with yourself every time you find yourself relaxing?

Having continuous thoughts about what if this and that. What if I still had you here Ma? Or, Would you be proud of the man I became today? I know my father wouldn't, but I don't seek his approval.

I somehow developed insomnia through the years of my life. That doesn't surprise me because the only thing I can see is my mother laying up like she's looking at the stars, but there's blood surrounding her. Her hair is cut off and you could see a bruise around her neck where you could clearly see she's been tortured.

Knowing I was there when she died, all I can think about is that one tear that left her eyes the moment she took her last breath, the moment her soul left her body. The moment I lost the only person who truly cared for me deeply. The one I could've count on the most.

Non voglio più vivere senza di te mamma. Per favore torna da me. (I don't wanna live without you anymore Mom. Please come back to me.)

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