Perfectly Ruined by:jdollar *a D'Amore story*

Chapter 11

|●|●|●|●|I met evil when I was a child. |●|●|●|●|
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Pauly
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"I don't care. Dr. Barlow's one of the most successful men in New York city. If you trifle with his daughters heart, he won't be pleased. Your father doesn't need a war with some plastic surgeon! You need to end this before you hurt her-"

I hang up on my mother. Genevieve has been jawing my ear off for over an hour now. Which is surprising in itself. Usually, she takes the hint that I don't want to hear any of it when I hang up the first time. Or the second. But tonight, this is the seventh call. It seems that she isn't very pleased with my having gone out with Caroline Barlow, four times this week. Paparazzi have taken to hiding behind bushes and corners to get a snap of us.
Twice now, her face and mine have covered the magazines. The people want to know every detail about not only my life but hers too. Genevieve had been furious. Assuming the worst of me. She's not necessarily wrong but still...
My mother isn't the only one to assume things though. I myself had assumed that by this point I'd have had a night or two with Caroline Barlow and she would be the last thing on my mind. I've never had so much trouble with a woman before. I have yet to seal the deal or even get a kiss from her! You'd think that something had gone wrong. But it's the opposite.
The time's when we've gone out have been wonderful. I had worried that I'd find her snobby outlook or stuck on herself tendencies boring. But she's not. I hate myself for admitting this but spending time with her has been the only time I been able to relax since returning home.
And surprisingly enough, she isn't as self centered as I'd first thought. The information I've received on her has told me of the many charity events she attends. The work for the community she does. And the amount of money she has given to help the lower class families and schools. It was quite inspiring.
The information I had had men get on her was an attempt to find some type of way to successful seduce the brown doe eyed beauty. However, it had only showed me another side to this girl that I can't get off my mind. I haven't been able to concentrate on my internship with my father or my normally rebellious nature because of her. She's all I can think about. And it's driving me fucking crazy.
I can't stand feeling this way. It makes me feel sick when I'm away from her. And my stupid heart races while I'm with her. The desire to fuck her is almost unbelievable. Then when I try to make my move to at least steal a kiss, she cuts me off. Even when I leave her for the night, our eyes locking, the moment perfect, she just shakes her head, thanks me for a 'great night' and walks away. It's infuriating. Yet it leaves me anticipating our next time out.
It's the most annoying thing, yet it's all consuming.
Which is exactly why, I am currently nursing my third glass of whiskey. Caroline had already had plans this Friday evening. Apparently a dinner with her father and his friends. A dinner party that is no doubt borning that hell out her and would me as well, if I were there. Which I'm not but in a way I wish I were. Just so I'd be with her.
All this has my mind blown. I've never in my life chased a woman as much as I have her in the last week. The whole fucking thing is enough to send a priest to drinking. I should seriously consider calling up one of my many girls in the contacts of my phone. Fuck one of them or two and see if that won't make me feel any better. But I know deep down it won't help. All I would be able to think about was the fact the she wouldn't be Caroline.
What the fuck is happening to me?

Ding.
The elevator door opens and Oscar D'Amore steps into my apartment. He moves to stand in front of me, then raises a brow at my half empty glass of whiskey.

"Rough night?" He asks with humor in his tone.

"I have a feeling the morning will prove to be worse. Join me?" I ask before throwing back the last bit in my glass.

"Only one."

I fix him a glass and hand it over before relaxing back down on the Italian leather sofa, my own glass still in hand.