Aurelia Beck. Only child of a famed politician, the last thing she wants to do is please a father who prefers donors to his own daughter.
Callan Kingsman. Recently in charge of the American Mafia, showing no mercy in conquests both in business and...
You'd think that the rose bushes underneath my window were just for decoration. I have since discovered their new purpose.
Dad:11 Eli:23
Phew I'm still winning. I was too busy picking a thorn out of my wrist to notice the hands grabbing my ass and the tongue that began its invasion into my mouth.
My senses become overloaded. The smell of genetically engineered waffles and nicotine invade my nostrils and cheap gin coats my tongue.
I remove the hands that have since travelled to my breasts with a thwack..I know I'm graceful. I begin to whisper-shout at my "assailant", but he knows me too well and brings a finger over my lips.
"I know you're mad I started drinking without you again, but you're a chick. It takes twice as long for me to get half as drunk as you, babe."
I roll my eyes at the egregious nickname and the exaggerated math problem.
"Well babe.." he doesn't note my sarcasm, "I seem to remember a certain spring break-"
"THEY PUT WAY MORE VODKA IN MY SHOTS!"
I smack the side of his arm. "Sta' zitto!" (shut up) I whisper-shout yet again. "You imbecile my father has security everywhere out here!" I point to the three story, perfectly manicured, white picket fence, hellhole behind me.
He half laughs and placed a condescending hand on my arm. "You know I have no idea what you're saying when you make up words."
I close my eyes and slowly inhale knowing it wasn't the Italian he didn't understand. "Imbecile, a stupid person. Noun." I annunciate each word as if speaking to a small child.
His hand clenches on my shoulder and I wait to see what he does. He's said he wouldn't try and get violent with me again, but I've learned from Senator Daddy Dearest; men lie.
He rolls his head around in a slow circle as if easing the tension from his neck and removes his hand.
"Andiomo" (come on)
I internally cringe at his broken-ass Italian and start walking with him quietly to his Jeep. The only reason he understands Italian and "speaks" some as well is because his family frequents Italy in the summer. That's how we met originally, at some Italian-American function for the rich and pitiful.
