Large crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, the house is decked out in expensive furniture and decorations. Calling this a mansion is an understatement for what this is, I can't even think of a reason why someone would need a house like this. So many rooms which I'm sure have little to no purpose.
I didn't realise how dressed up I had to be for this event. I thought it was just Micah being extravagant telling me to wear this red ball gown. I was convinced it was as simple as heading over to his step-fathers house for a little while, not a whole party with ball gowns and suits where I feel like a princess who would belong in a Disney movie.
Micah's thumb traces a circle on my shoulder, he doesn't look happy about being here -at all.
He takes a sip from his scotch swishing around the liquid in his cup. He kisses the side of my head before shaking his head and downing the rest of the liquid.
"So," I stand up straight, turning to Micah. "We've been here ages, where is your step-father?"
"He likes to make grand entrances."
"It's late and I'm tired, Micah."
Micah presses his lips hard to mine, if his arms weren't wrapped around my waist I'd have fallen off the stool. "Rosalie, stop complaining," he says roughly starring into my eyes, "I hate this more than you."
The music seems to go quiet, Micah looks up the stairwell letting his hand drop from its position on my thigh. "Him," he points his finger to a small group on the stairs, "my step-father."
I choose the eldest one there, the others don't look like they could be Micah's step-father. Micah turns around and orders another drink, the minute he gets the small glass he takes all the liquid in. His going to be drunk if he has anymore. "Micah, stop drinking, you have to drive us."
"Rose," he grips chin, "I'm fine."
He kisses me, I can taste the alcohol on his lips. I gently push his chest, "not here."
"And why not, pretty girl?"
I blush shaking my head, "first impression with your step-father doesn't sound like it will be a good one at all if I'm just making out with you."
"Don't give a fuck about what he thinks of you, Rosalie."
"Micah," I roll my eyes.
I look over and see his step-father heading towards us. Micah mumbles something under his breathe before looking at his step-father, "Angelo."
"Figlio."
"Questa è Rosalie," Micah looks at me taking my hand. I stand up from my seat unsure of what to do, I don't speak Italian.
"It's nice to meet you, Rosalie," his stepfather says.
"You too," I nod unsure of what else to say.
"Come, Son. We need to talk of some business," he looks at me, "privately."
Micah's jaw clenches. "One minute, go ahead."
His stepfather nods and turns. Once his a metre or two away Micah kisses me. "Go wait at the car. I won't be long," he says before walking away. My lips part standing as Micah walks away. They head up the stairs and through a door leaving me alone in a place I don't know. I don't even remember where Micah parked his car, I don't even have the keys to the car, I'm not standing in the street alone.
