Kidnapped by the Devil

Chapter 1

I let out an agitated groan as I grudgingly wake up from the loud ringing of my alarm. My head begins to throb and I instantly start to regret last nights drinking and numerous tequila shots. Club hopping with Julia and the few girls I'm friends with is always fun, until we get to the tequila. I quickly slide the cancel button on my phone screen to cease the noise as my head begins to pounder harder. I must be some kind of psychopathic freak to remember to set my alarm to make it to work right? I close my eyes and inhale as a wave nausea hits me. Definitely a psychopathic freak.

An abundance of blinding sunlight pouring through my condo windows greets me as I grudgingly walk to my bathroom. I'm not the type to get really bad hangovers because I know my drinking limit, but maybe I pushed myself a little harder than usual last night. I stare at the frumpy dull complexion and mess of hair that is my reflection in the mirror. If the paparazzi could see me now, they'd have a field day. Every newspaper is always saying I'm the epitome of beauty. I have smooth caramel skin, light brown eyes that are surrounded by long thick eyelashes, lips that are full and pouty, long thick wavy brown hair that cascades to my waist, and a curvaceous figure that gives me more problems than it should. I guess if you leave it up to mass media, you could say I'm gorgeous for a fat girl right? Go figure. I step into the hot shower and begin washing all of last nights partying and sleep off of me. My aching muscles loosen and energy slowly starts to flow through my body. As you can tell I am not a morning person, but duty calls. I'm probably the only one out of New York's highly esteemed socialites that actually has a career outside of charity work. Sure they have "jobs," but working under daddy in the company without any experience really doesn't require any work you know? You just get everything handed to you, and where is the success and value in that? I am one of the hottest and top designers out, and I busted my ass to prove it.

I decide today is going to be a casual day. I have to finish some designs that I have been working on all week for the upcoming Spring collection, and I know I'm just going to barricade myself in my office again. Why waste an elaborate outfit? I let out a long sigh. The Spring collection is one of my babies. When my mother asked me to be her partner two years ago I had one condition; she'd design the Summer and Winter, and I'd design Fall and Spring. It makes sure there is a new creative brain every season and that we are taking the time to rest between each collection. To be honest, the shit will mentally fry you if you overwork yourself and then what? You'll have a shitty line. Our success is proof of this. My eyes land on a bulky black sweater and I instantly smile. Fashion is always about comfort in my eyes. Tight dresses, suffocating shape wear, and ill fitting items are boring and intolerable. How do you plan on pulling off something fashionable while you're constantly adjusting yourself? I put on the thick sweater, a pair of black and white checkered ankle pants, and a pair of black loafers. I'm not an everyday heel wearing kind of girl like my friends, and I'd honestly probably have a broken body part every month if I did. I quickly begin my everyday makeup routine and follow it with copious amounts of mascara. Special occasions are when I do the absolute most with my makeup, but that's about it. Nothing more, nothing less. I put on my Cartier watch and my Chanel earrings and adjust my annoying bra. I  look at myself in the mirror and fall in love with the look I'm going for. Simple yet fashionable. I brush the tangles and knots out of my loosely curled hair, grab my orange Telfar tote, black coat, and head out of the closet. Walking down my picture filled hallway is soothing as I glance at the familiar faces of my family and close friends. I'm not an introvert, but growing up the way I did definitely made it easy to weed out who is for you, and who is faux. The relationships I have now are with people that matter. I enter my work den to look at my designs scattered all over my desk. Being part owner of Cara Bella Designs has it's perks. I don't have a specific time to be at work, but I always seem to go before the shop opens. It would be unprofessional if I didn't right? I hear the familiar ringing of my iPhone and see my father's picture pop up.