Luciano | Book I ✓

Chapter Three

A/N: {edited}

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I had been staring at Luciano for quite some time, his question replaying over and over in my head – "Ears burning, Miss Crawford?"  I didn't know whether the question was rhetorical or meant to be answered.  Buying time, I bite my lip.  I wanted to be careful about what I was going to say, knowing we were already on horrible terms.

My mouth fell open, but slowly closed. I had no idea what to say – something I never thought would happen.  Back home, I always had a response – whether it was sarcastic or not.  But here, in this very moment, I was speechless.  I pursed my lips together, my chest rising and falling with every breath.

Fear filled my soul, I was afraid to move.  I was afraid to do anything.  I knew the man that stood over me was dangerous.  He hadn't hesitated – even for a second – when he slapped me. 

"Lady-" His voice brought me back to the present, my eyes focusing on the stubble on his chin as he ran a hand over it. I noticed his eye twitch slightly – was that a natural occurrence?  Or did it only happen when he was upset?  That was something I would have to find out later. "-Get your head off my carpet. I would prefer it white, not red."  I frowned and shot up from my position on my back.

He stepped over me, causing me to duck – his thigh hitting me in the head on his way out.  There was a bulge in the back of his pants – just above his ass, which was covered by his suit jacket; a gun.

So he's always armed; yay.

I pushed myself up off the floor, hoping to catch him.  Speeding up my walk, I followed him as he descended down the marble stairs.  "-Are you implying that my hair is dyed?"  I took serious offense to this; my hair was my pride and joy.  It was all natural and I was going to make sure this unreasonable, rude, condescending asshole knew that.

Luciano stopped on a dime as he hit the first floor, whirling around.  I didn't notice till it was too late. I had already smacked into him.  My head hit his chest, and I fell backwards; my ass smacking against the steps with force; that's going to hurt tomorrow.  Luciano, however, didn't budge.

I watched as he slowly leaned down, his hands both resting on the steps above me, supporting his weight.  His knees bent, almost straddling me when he spoke.  "Are you talking back to me, Crawford?"

I swallowed hard.  The demanding tone In his voice was back; his eyes searching mine.  I shut my eyes quickly, fear overtaking me for only a second.  Then I remembered that my mother didn't raise no bïtch.  I opened my eyes and blinked rapidly, showcasing a smile, "Yes, I am talking back to you, does it make your dick shrink in size?"

He doesn't respond verbally, instead, he grabs his crotch through his dress pants and stalks off.

It took me a lengthy second to regain my composure.

Once I did, I headed towards the kitchen.  The room itself was the size of my entire first floor at home.  An island sat in the middle; six to seven matching stools surrounded it.  Directly behind it, sat granite tops and all the kitchen necessities; a stove, oven, sink, and dishwasher.  Off to the right was the biggest refrigerator I had ever seen and I was certain you could probably fit at least one male body in there – possibly two females.  The thought made me shiver.

Pushed off to the very far right was a little sitting area, overlooking miles and miles of green grass.  The table was made of wood – four chairs pushed up against it.  It honestly looked like something you would find in the home of a rich family back in the mid 19 hundreds.

The room was empty as I stepped inside, heading straight towards the pancakes that sat on a plate on the island.  I took a clean plate from beside them and put two pancakes on my plate.