You’re a doctor, a surgeon more specifically. You graduated very early because of your intelligence. You were very mature when you were young, smart, beautiful and very talented.
At 25, and you still shine above all the rest, you have many talents such as singing, art, sketching, reading, shooting a gun, playing instruments, extreme skills and good survival instincts and so on. Other than being a surgeon of course, which is very good in its own.
Knox Valentino, the devil himself to walk on this earth. Making men shit their pants and women fall to his feet. The mafia don that no one wants to cross. The world made him suffer the day he was born, shaping him to the cruel ruthless man that he is today.
“Come on knoxiiii! You know you can’t say no you owe me.” His sister, Violet, whines. She’s 22 years old, but to her older brother she’s still his baby sister. He promised to take her to her favorite coffee shop, and there they are, with their guards who are looking around very closely in case anything goes wrong.
“I know,” he sighs, running his fingers through his soft hair. Looking down at her thinking if he should just buy this cafe for her or shut her up in some way.
You were sitting at the window seat, your wired headphones in, your favorite iced coffee by your side with a red velvet cupcake, your favorite. Sketching on your note, very focused and oblivious of the dangers near you.
Then it happens, his eyes land on you. He pauses, something impossible for a man like him. It’s as if his eyes could only see you and everything else is a blur.
His eyes noticed how your plump lips are slightly parted, your hazel eyes very focused on whatever you were doing on your notes, your long soft golden hair falling down your shoulders. The golden hour shifts its focus on you, making you glow, making you look unreal.
You looked like an angel, everything he wasn’t.
Two days later, you were in your somewhat luxurious apartment. The doorbell rings. So you walk to check in the hole, but no one is there?
You open the door and noticed a box on the floor, a deep red leather box with a note on top. You take it and closed the door.
You put it on a nearby table and opened the note, written in a very fancy handwriting, it read:
”This would look perfect on an angel such as yourself. -KV.”
What? Who is this? You opened the box and gasped, it was a very beautiful silver necklace. It looks rather vintage than new, very soft and elegant, it looks very well taken care of and extremely expensive.
You try it on, and suddenly you don’t want to take it off as you stare at the mirror, it’s absolutely beautiful, and it looks like it belongs there, on you. But the questions still linger in your mind.
You always wanted a necklace just like this, to never take it off once you feel a connection to it, and this one.. you do, and it’s for a reason you cannot quite explain.
Little did you know.. it was his family crest, it was passed down to the mafia dons’ wives for centuries, marking you off-limits to everyone. It will strike fear and respect to all those who see it around your neck.