Socio-What?

Chapter 1

It was a stormy night. The rain was coming down in sheets, splattering off the ground and metres into the air before descending back to the wet floor, draining down the overflowing sewage system. The wind was howling, forcing trees to bend down almost to the point of breaking. The sky came alight with lightening every few minutes, followed by the booming sounds of thunder.

I had decided to stay at home sipping a cup of coffee curled up on my comfy couch, a book in hand and a bowl of popcorn on my lap. I was completely content and dry with some nice music playing in the background and my notably attractive chef Pierre cooking shirtless in the kitchen with a smooch covered apron that said Kiss The Cook.

I shifted slightly, readjusting the cat fur blanket I had draped on my lap. As I moved, the servant giving me a pedicure stopped painting my toenails and dutifully waited until I settled down again. I smiled down at the servant with my lush, full, naturally red lips. I nodded in thanks to it because I was of course, known for my humbleness.

I returned to reading the absolutely wonderful book in my hands. It was about a billionaire, vampire, playboy who had an addiction to whips, chains and butt-plugs. Not only was he sensitive, but he had the perfect jawline; intense, soul devouring eyes, a rock hard body and a tragic past. He was perfect boyfriend material.

Oh no! Bringing my perfectly manicured fingers to my lips I gasped. The story had taken a tragic turn, Anabella left him for her equally attractive, stable best friend who had never hurt her and had always been there for her. The stupid girl; he had only abused her three times. Did she not think? Did she not see how emotionally scarred he was! His past made him into the abusive, bipolar man he was today. Did he not deserve love just because he was a bit more expressive with his hands? He was completely justified in hurting her, it was his past that made him do it, not him! She was wrong for leaving him, she should go jump off a cliff. Women like her deserve to die!

I slammed the book shut, it had been such a tragic ending to such a wonderful book. If only people could see as deeply into the souls of the psychologically wounded as I could; the world would be a better place. I jumped out of my comfy chair hitting something soft. I didn't care, anger was running through my veins.

Stepping over the large squishy thing I had kicked over, my thoughts were a jumbled mess, my heart was hurting, my brain was thumping and dormant tears left a glazed layer of liquid over my perfect green eyes. It wasn't fair! Without looking down, I kicked the squishy thing on the floor angrily ignoring the strange sound it made. I despised the authors who left things on a heartbreaking, unsatisfying note. It made my chest hurt.

Stomping across my large penthouse, hardwood floor, I made my way to the kitchen to get some chocolate and order my sexy chef to make me some nutella cake.

When I entered, I noticed that my chocolate fountain had been refilled. That brightened my mood up a little bit, at least my loyal servants cared about me. I approached the smooth flowing structure that had small ladyfinger's laying all around it. Picking one up, I dipped it in to the warm chocolate.

Continuing my walk into my warm, big kitchen I noticed something was wrong.

My chef was wearing clothes under his apron! My eyes narrowed, he knew that I had a strict dress code for my male workers! Maybe my servants weren't as loyal as I had thought they were. I stalked towards him intending to teach him a lesson. Disobedience didn't bode well for me, I despised the ungrateful.

He turned around and his eyes widened as he took in my fury. He knew why I was angry.

He held his arms up in front of him as a shield. "I'm sorry! I only put on a sweater, I got cold!" Tears began to stream down his face. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry please don't hurt me!"