𝐿𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝐴𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑙

4: 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝗵𝗲𝗿

༒
vincent

I have never seen a girl as beautiful as her.

That was what I thought when I first looked into those sweet, sweet light green eyes and watched the light freckles dance across her small nose and rosy cheeks. The natural skip in her step like the fucking angel that she is, the smile that made my heart want to burst. Normally, I would think emotions like this were disgusting.

But god fucking dammit. I knew we would have to have her. Knew it the second she called me Vince.

Nobody has ever called me Vince, never even tried to give me a nickname, apart from Soren and Slade. One glare, and the person would be quiet the second that anything other than 'Vincent', 'Mr. Mastalli' or 'Sir' was said.

And so I tried my glare on her.

It failed to work.

I've always been observant. Most of the time, I can instantly tell of a person's personality after speaking to them for five minutes. The little Kitten was no different, yet still in a category of her own that I've never seen.

Her innocence - not in the misogynist sense, but the one to life -, the gentle nature but with a little attitude. She's probably the girl to bake cookies for people she doesn't really like, but wants everyone to be happy.

That's why she would suit us.

I have never hoped for anything more that we'll suit her. Even in this short time, my guy tells me it's her. I always listen to my guy.

Soren will love her playfulness, the way she seems to love life. Slade will attract to Clara's gentle personality and innocence. I, of course, will love taming that little fucking attitude she's got going on. Never would I want to change it, but it doesn't mean it shouldn't go unpunished.

When I got the call Clara had arrived, I'd just come home from a meeting at our company, where Soren and Slade are still at. I need the two idiots to come home immediately. Shutting the door behind me, I quietly open the entrance to my own room and strip, changing in to grey joggers and a black top.

The whole of New York can see me through the window. Slade would probably call it a free show.

I imagine Clara giving us a show in little tight red panties- You've known her for an hour.

Jogging down the stair case, quickly shaking away the thought, I sit on our couch and pull out my phone to text the chat. As much as I love coding, I hate texting or phone calls, so this group chat thing named 'Soren's tight ass' was made by Slade.

I don't know why it's called Soren's tight ass, but it is. Unless the other two have gotten up to something that I don't know about, then he wouldn't know anything about Soren's ass.

Slade:
Has the new girl arrived yet??? Send a pic

Soren:
He's not going to get a nude within the first hour of meeting her, dickface.

Slade:
that's not what i meant pervert just a normal one of her CLOTHED

Soren:
Says the man who has naked magazine cutouts in your bedside. Fucking horny teenager.

Slade:
how tf do you know about them??

Me:
Shut the fuck up both of you. The girl is a fucking angel.

Slade:
my guy's fucking whipped after an hour with her

I shake my head at Slade even though he can't see me. I'm not whipped. I didn't even know what that meant until Slade explained it to me.