Author's Note: Hello everyone! I just wanted to try this story line out, I've been thinking about this for a while now and I never really thought I would write it, but I did! It's a mafia story set in New York. I'm really just dabbling, but please let me know if you want me to continue! xo

EL James owns, this and any future chapters.

I walked out of the JFK airport and saw the large crowds around, I immediately felt claustrophobic. I told my bastard of a father that I needed a change, so he of course sent me to stay with my uncle Roberto who lived in Tribeca. I wanted to get out of the annoying socialite scene in Seattle, but of course by sending me here I'm really just swapping scenes. I initially wanted to move to a little apartment in Harlem or Queens, but my father would have none of that. His child would never live in the "ghetto".

I looked past all the drivers who had signs up and soon found the man who held my father's surname: Luciano. He was dressed in an expensive suit with a black hat atop his head, I headed straight to him and grimaced at the name sign.

"It's Steele, not Luciano," I stuck my hand out to him curtly.

"Hello, I apologize sincerely, please call me James. I work for your uncle Roberto, I'm his driver," he looks at me passively.

"It's alright," I reply. "Guess he was too busy to pick me up?"

"He's in a meeting, miss," he explains, "please let me get your bags."

"By all means," I say a bit sarcastically. I know that I shouldn't take my annoyance out on him, but really someone was going to face the brunt of it. James quickly gathered my things from the trolley and led me to the awaiting Rolls-Royce town car.

My father, Vincent Luciano, Seattle's top industrial magnate insisted that I take his private plane. I told him coach is just fine and I rolled my eyes at his annoyance. Now that I was twenty-four, he decides to be a father. Too little too late, if you ask me. It was crazy to think he would waste all that energy to fly one passenger across country, when I was perfectly capable of getting on a regular plane. I'm not really sure why he decided to step back into my life when he was absent for most of it.

Vincent never gave up his legal rights, but he wasn't ever there. I relied on my mother's slew of men who would walk in and out of our lives to be my father figures. Don't get me wrong; I had the best of everything, best school, best clothes, and best material things. Everything was the best. I was like my parents own personal battleground. It was their own way of fighting each other, but without actually being in the same room.

For example: my mother sent me to the best private schools in the country, my father buys me a new car. My mother sends my friends and I on an all-inclusive vacation to Sir Richard Branson's island for a month in the summer, and my father who would definitely not be out done, of course, buys me my own island. A fucking island. I was the rope in their game of tug of war.

My mother won't win any awards for parenting. She was never around really, but since I detested my father, I chose to keep her name and drop the Luciano when it was offered to me at eleven. And at least I got to see Carla once or twice a month when I was growing up, Vincent would show up unexpectedly once a year if I were so lucky.

"We're here, miss," James says, piercing through my daze. I shook my thoughts away and stepped out on the busy street. I love New York and every time I come here, I have Frank Sinatra's "New York, New York" playing in my mind. Though sometimes Carey Mulligan's rendition of it in Shame pokes through. The valet takes my luggage as James escorts me inside the large and very upscale building, where a beautiful strawberry blonde woman dressed in a black pencil skirt and white blouse was waiting for us.

"Hello, you must be Anastasia, I'm Katherine Kavanagh," she smiles widely at me and holds out her hand for me to shake.

"Hello, Katherine," I return her smile.

"I'm your uncle's personal assistant, he sent me to give you a tour of your new home," she says cheerfully. Ugh, way too happy. "I'll show you the private elevator that takes you straight to the penthouse." I nod at her as she continues to talk, "Your things came in and I took the liberty to have them unpacked, of course you can move things around, but I thought it would be easier."

"That's fine," I reply as we step into the elevator.

"Great," she claps her hands together. "Your uncle had your room redecorated."

"I'm sure it'll be fine," I murmured. When the elevator dinged, we arrived at our floor, immediately stepping out of it I could see that my uncle spared no expense in decorating his home. There was a large chandelier in the foyer and a beautiful flower arrangement in the middle of the expansive room.

The great room was the same gold and crème colours, and ceiling to wall windows that led a to a large terrace wrapping around the entire suite. Outside there were a few large trees; a grill around a very large seating area, on the other side there was a medium sized pool, sauna, and Jacuzzi.

Back inside to the left of the great room was a den, which was different from everything in the house; it was a dark blue theme with gray undertones. A large flat screen TV, a very complicated looking entertainment system with every game console you could think off, and in the middle of the room there was a large leather L-couch and two recliners. Why the man needed this much space was beyond me, because to my knowledge he was the only one who actually lived here. Katherine prattles on and shows me the well-equipped, state of the art kitchen, dining room, the library, two guests' rooms, my uncle's office, library, then finally my room which was on the west side of the penthouse.

Somehow Katherine had done a pretty bang up job, my room was exquisite, it was comfortable looking, but still fit the home's aesthetic. It was a pretty big room considering that the king size four poster bed with two bedside tables didn't eat up the space. Directly across from the bed is a large flat screen TV that was mounted on the wall, then to the far right of the room there was a desk with an iMac, printer, and phone, and then on the left side near the bed was where the walk-in closet and bathroom were located. Next to my desk there were two French doors that led to a private seating area just outside my room.

"… And the concierge is number 3 on the phone…" Katherine keeps on talking, honestly, I sort of tuned her out while I was walking around the room.

"Is there a fitness centre?" I asked finally tuning in.

"Oh yes, it's on the second level, you can actually take the elevator down from here, but if you want to go to the spa in the building you'll have to take the elevator down to the main lobby, then take one of the other elevators up the fifth floor," she answers. "Also, your uncle wanted me to give you this," she takes a large envelope out of her leather-bound folder in her hands. "He insisted that you have this and the keys to the Mercedes-Benz McLaren in his garage, and I almost forgot! The key card to the apartment."

I hold in my eye roll and take them from her, "Thank you."

"You are very much welcome, if you need anything this my card."

"Thank you so much," I repeated.

"Oh, I almost forgot, your uncle will be home in a few hours and he sends his sincerest apologies. He did want to pick you up at the airport, but he was regretfully kept in a meeting."

"It's okay," I gave her a half smile.

"It was great meeting you; I will see you soon," she shakes my hand again and walks off leaving me alone in this large house. It was only three in the afternoon and had plenty of time until my uncle was due to arrive. Quickly making my decision to go for a walk around the neighbourhood, I placed the large envelope on the desk and quickly showered.

Dressed in an off-shoulder t-shirt, jean shorts, sandals, and my little satchel purse I headed out the door. Walking into the warm early September air I quickly got lost in my music as soon as my earphones went in. I may or may not have been dancing just a little bit while I was walking, but really come on it's New York, everyone's a little weird here.

Stopping by at a nearby café I ordered a latte and then quickly spun around to head out the door, but what I didn't count on happening was a very tall man standing right behind me and the collision causing my drink to spill down my shirt.

"FUCK!" I yell, angry as hell that the liquid was all over my chest.

"Shit, I'm so sorry," the man apologized, I didn't even take a moment to look at him but I just lost my shit.

"Seriously, ever heard of personal space?" I seethe.

"Are you okay?" he asks worried, when I finally look up at his face I was quickly pulled in by his gray eyes filled with worry. For a moment I was speechless, but I quickly gathered my wits and regained my composure.

"I'm fucking fine, but my shirt is clearly not," I exclaimed, annoyed. Trying to ignore the man who I just collided with, "You're lucky that shit wasn't too fucking hot."

"I am really sorry," he looks into my eyes.

"Yeah whatever," I quickly sidestep him, in all honesty it wasn't all too bad, I was just being a bit of a baby and more annoyed that I had to head straight back home, again. That said, I think I should complain that it wasn't hot enough… wait I should complain that the liquid in the cup that spilled onto my chest and shirt didn't hurt enough to be considered "hot"? … Shit, I'm more fucked up than I thought.

"Here, please let me pay for another shirt and coffee," he begins to take out his wallet.

"I don't need your fucking money," I spat out and quickly shoved past him.

"Wait-" he yelled out for me, but I was too fast and was already out the door. I was definitely not waiting around for more of this awkward conversation. That said, I couldn't seem to get those piercing gray eyes that belonged to a very handsome man out of my head. I may have been pissed but I wasn't dead and can still tell if a gorgeous man was in the vicinity.

Within minutes I was already in the elevator going up to the penthouse, annoyed that I have to take another shower. After getting cleaned up, I didn't want to do anything but curl up and sleep so I curled into bed and put on my headphones.


"Ana-" a voice and some pretty aggressive shaking were trying to wake me up. I stirred under the covers willing myself to go back to my dream, "Ana."

"Ugh," I groan, "what?" I ask still very much asleep.

"I'm home."

Home? Finally letting myself open my eyes I see my uncle sat next to me on the bed, "Hey uncle Berto."

"Hello bambolina, I'm sorry I couldn't pick you up," he says kissing my forehead when I sit up from bed.

"It's okay, you were busy."

"Do you want to go to dinner with me?"

"Of course," I smile at him.

"We'll leave in half an hour, can you be ready by then?" he asks.

"Sure can," I reply. He gets up from my bed and walks around to my desk.

"You haven't opened it," he states.

"Yeah sorry," I shrug.

"You should, I don't want you to go without," he says simply.

"Dad gave me one," I inform him.

"Well now you have two, please use it," he insists.

"Alright," I concede, "I'll see you in half an hour."

"Good, I'll be waiting," he smiles at me, and then walks out the room.

My uncle and I had always gotten along, he was sort of the cool uncle that let me eat all the candy I wanted and whenever I went to NYC to visit, he would always treat me like an adult and not some pawn. He used to live in the Upper East Side a few years ago, I heard Katherine say that this was one of those white-glove buildings. Not exactly sure what that entails, but I know that it's pretty exclusive.

Getting in the washroom, I quickly wash my face, put on some makeup, and quickly got changed into a deep violet cocktail dress that came a few inches above my knees. I grabbed a clutch, slipped on some heels, and then headed out to meet him in the great room.

"You always impress me," he laughs, "you're always so quick."

"It's a talent," I say nonchalantly, "so where are we going?"

"This little Italian place that I bought recently."

"You're Italian, don't you get enough of it?"

"We're Italian and no, you can never eat enough Italian."

"Alright, alright lead the way."


"This is fantastic," I exclaim, biting into another forkful of gnocchi.

"Isn't it? The place was going under, but I bought it out right and turned it around."

"Well from the looks of it you did a pretty good job," I laugh.

"So what brings you to the city?" he finally asks, I know he's been itching to since we got here, "Your dad was pretty vague."

"I just wanted a change, Seattle was getting to be too small," I reply.

"I think there's more to that story," he says quickly.

"Oh well, it's in the past."


"It's nothing, just stupid shit... And I want to get into this Master's program in NYU."

This makes him laugh which made me roll my eyes at him, "You always had a colourful vocabulary."

"That I do," I giggle, I start eating again when his phone suddenly rings.

"Sorry, I have to take this," he says.

"That's okay," I reply, he gives me an apologetic smile and stands up.

"Luciano," his tone changes completely, "I'm out with my niece right now."

I wonder what that was about, after a few minutes my uncle returns in with a much more anxious demeanour.

"Ana, I'm so sorry, I have to go. There's an emergency I have to get to, James will be here to pick you up," he stands up again and gives me a kiss. Then his phone rings again.

"Luciano," he barks, making the other patrons jump in their seats. They're all looking at us with weird expressions, almost like they were scared.

"Coffee girl," a velvet voice whispered into my ear.

I turn my head quickly, "Fuck are you doing here." I know, I know, I don't know why I was so bitchy to him.

"Grey, what the fuck are you doing here," my uncle says with the venom in his voice. I looked around the room and everyone was becoming a lot more uncomfortable.

"Simply wanted to know what the fuss was all about," Grey replies, taking a seat next to me, "you've done wonders with the place."

"Get. Out," my uncle seethes, enunciating each word.

"I mean you no harm," Grey holds up his arms in mock surrender, "just wanted to compliment you."

So these two know each other, but how? Business? Why was my uncle so angry with him and why were all the diners looking like world war three was about to erupt?

"Uncle Berto-" I interject.

"Uncle Berto," Grey smirks a bit too sinister for my liking. "And here I thought you just liked them young and innocent," he looks at me with the continued smirk.

"Sir," a very tall and large Italian man came up to my uncle, "we have to go."

"In a minute Paul," my uncle dismisses him.

"I only wanted to see if coffee girl was all right from this afternoon," Grey wiggles his eyebrow at my uncle suggestively.

Uncle Berto's eyes filled with rage, "You're lucky I don't take you out right now."

"That wouldn't be good for business would it?" Grey says snidely. The entire restaurant grew quiet, what the hell was up with these nosey bastards? Then quickly two equally large men came up from behind.

"Ana, let's go," my uncle grabs my arm forcibly.

"Uh… okay," I say timidly. I don't know what was happening, but I know it couldn't be good.

"Ana?" Grey asks his eyes perking up, "beautiful name."

But before another word was said five more men came up behind my uncle and escorted us out, now I'm completely confused. Once we were out in the cool air I was quickly put into the same town car as earlier with James driving, my uncle slid in next to me and quickly called someone on his phone.

"Grey was at my restaurant," he says curtly, "This cannot happen… I'll be there soon, I just have to see Ana home… Get it done!" my uncle yells at the end of the call and closes his eyes.

"Uncle Berto?"

He takes a calming breath, "Sorry the night was ruined."

"It's okay, I'm tired anyway," I shrug, once we arrived outside our building my uncle steps out firsts and talks to a man outside. I think he was one of the guys in the restaurant.

"Bambolina, Samuel here will escort you upstairs," he informs me when I get out of the car.

"Okay, but why?"

"I'm just paranoid," he laughs, trying to brush it off.

I eye him carefully; he gives me a hug and tells me he'll be home soon. I look around and I notice two black SUVs parked around us, come to think of it they were there at the restaurant, too. I understand paranoid, but this was a bit much.

"Goodnight, bambolina," he says as gets into an awaiting car… the car he drove us in to the restaurant. How did it get there? I suppose he could have had someone drive it back, but when? There were so many questions that I wanted answered.

"Goodnight," I say as Samuel escorted me upstairs.

New York is becoming stranger by the minute.

A/N: What did you guys think?