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Forever Yours


Forever Yours


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This story: 'Forever Yours,' including all chapters, prologues, epilogues, and associated content is copyrighted under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act of 1988. All rights are reserved for the creator and owner of this work and any unauthorized copying, broadcasting, manipulation, distribution or selling of this work constitutes as an infringement of copyright. Any infringement of this copyright is punishable by law.



Maureen Carvelli’s POV

I wobbled slightly as I carefully made my way down the huge, marble staircase leading from the front doors of our mansion to the driveway. The black stiletto heeled boots I wore were not material for staircases, as I was quickly learning. If I trip and die today…I blame you, Cara, I mentally berated my younger sister as I gripped the railing.

What’s wrong with jeans? When did jeans and converse ever go out of style? I had asked her that morning, staring forlornly at my favorite jeans and black converse. She had been too irritated to even respond; simply shoving the leather ankle boots and tight-fitting white designer pants into my arms. Put them on, she had commanded before throwing a black turtleneck at my face. I sighed. She was right, of course. I had an eleven o’ clock appointment with my father’s lawyers. Converse didn’t exactly fit the bill, as she so impatiently explained so many times.

As I stepped off the last stair, I breathed a sigh of relief. I had made it in one piece. I looked up, then, and immediately began gnawing on my bottom lip nervously. Right in front of me was parked my new, black limousine and leaning on the far side, the newly hired chauffeur. I felt self-consciousness flutter through me. As strange as it may seem, I wasn't comfortable with my new found status as the wealthy daughter of William Carvelli, the brilliant man and entrepreneur; founder of America's largest multilevel marketing company. I had been raised in poverty; wealth, while very appreciated, was entirely new and foreign. We had always been of the lower class; now, we were apparently on the high end of the social ladder. It was disconcerting, to say the very least.

Sucking in a tiny breath, I released my white-knuckled grip on the railing, and began walking towards the limo, stepping off the walkway onto the tarmac to make my way to the far side. I couldn’t see the limo driver’s face from here but he looked to be quite young from the back. I blinked in surprise as I drew closer. Weren’t chauffeurs stodgy old men with white hair and bellhop hats? No, that’s doormen... But this guy sure didn’t have white hair. Dark, messy hair curled up around his ears and neck and he wore the expected tuxedo. He was gazing off at our lake, probably watching the ducks swimming. The clicking of my heels alerted him to me approaching because he suddenly pushed himself off of the limo, drawing himself to his full height and turned to face me. I just managed to prevent my chin from dropping as he looked up.

He looked like he was in his early twenties. Tall and broad-shouldered, he looked down at me with an almost arrogant expression in his ocean-blue eyes. As I stared at him, it softened into something like surprise. 

He was the most gorgeous guy I had ever seen outside of a movie, that was for sure.

I tried to hide my initial shock as I gave him a tentative smile.

“Good morning, ma’am,” he said finally.

It was a few seconds before I suddenly recalled that I was supposed to respond. I wasn’t sure what to say though; why was he calling me ma’am?

“Hi,” I began shyly, pushing out another smile. My social awkwardness was kicking in. “My name is Maureen. Are you my new driver?” Idiot. Why else would he be standing by your limo, dressed in a tux? 

He cleared his throat before answering. “Yes, ma’am. My name is Ryan Adams. Your father’s employment agency assigned me to you as your driver,” he said, a smile flitting across his face. I swallowed. When the word gorgeous was created… it was in an attempt to pay homage to the beauty of this guy.

“Oh… right. Of course. Well… you don’t have to, um, call me that… call me ma’am. I’m not- I mean, it doesn’t… you don’t have to-” I blushed furiously as I realized that I was rambling like an idiot. His piercing blue eyes were wreaking havoc on my thinking process. I couldn’t even remember my point. “I mean, you can just call me Maureen- if you want. I don’t want to… Well, I mean… that’s not what I meant, I guess…” I trailed off, heat pulsing in my face as I averted my eyes from his amused gaze. Lifting a hand to my lips, I began to bite at my nails before suddenly realizing that they were manicured and the taste of acetone was now imbedded in my taste buds. I grimaced and dropped my hand back down to my side.

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Minka Kellyas Maureen
Sean Farisas Ryan
Pierce Brosnanas Mr. Carvelli
Shenae Grimesas Cara
Max Thieriotas Justin
Catherine Zeta-Jonesas Mrs. Carvelli
Mackenzie Foyas Lacey

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