Axar Ires Artemis D'Alarie is the one person you do not want to cross paths with. She is everything that you should be scared of. When the time to take over her father's mafia has come, after years of brutal training, she is held back by a single co...
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Oh no. "Yes, I did, got anything to say about it?" I turn around, not expecting the whole house to be looking at me. Some faces were shocked, some were surprised, and some were angry.
"Why would you cut your hair?" And the angry voice belongs to Acelian.
"Because I can. And I was bored. I have a business to attend to before we have to meet my father. I expect every single one of you concerned to be present." I start walking off, but an arm holds me back.
"You can't just make rash decisions like that-"
"Oh, so now I can't decide about my own body? I am my own fucking person, and if cutting my hair is where I see fit, -"
"We know. We're just surprised. Axar you can go, Acelian, pipe down. She can do whatever the hell she wants-" Azelia tries to calm us down, but to no avail.
"She's going to be my wife. She can't make those decisions by herself, and even more, she can't alter her beauty, since she'll be standing at my side! How are none of you on my side on this?"
"Because here, we don't bloody choose sides. We are a family that makes decisions together, and it's us against everything else. You have a misconception of the family because you've never had one" Siobhàn's harsh voice stops us all dead in our tracks.
"And you're not my fucking dad, you don't get to tell me what to do" I raise my hand to slap him, but I hold back. I've inflicted enough bodily pain on him, they're going to start asking questions at the meeting.
I walk out of the door, absolutely fuming. How dare he speak to me like that? I get into my car and drive off to my office. I must deal with collateral damage from the previous night. I won't be doing anything else than signing papers and making phone calls.
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She cut her hair. She cut her fucking hair. Her beautiful midnight hair got cut off. It's not her new look that angers me, it's the fact that she knows that I love her hair longer. I never minded her short hair when we were set to get married, but I had always wished that it would grow. As she leaves the foyer and, in her car, I can't help but reminisce the words I said to her. I know she hates feeling inferior, and I did just that. I wouldn't be surprised if she was mad at me.
