Julia is a struggling author with a famous fashion designer as a best friend. When both of them end up at a tarot card reading parlor drunk, twisting of fate happens. Now whatever Julia writes is actually happening somewhere.
It doesn't help when th...
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I was that weird nonchalant kind of person that didn't know where their best friend's boyfriend lived. But now that I did, I realized Adrian was super rich. He had a mansion, a summer house, an apartment somewhere close to the place he worked. Summerhouse, like really. I have just one all -season house.
But now as it happens I had no place to live and I can't take a gorgeous assassin to my home where my parents lived, we sat in the beautifully decorated summer house of Adrian.
"You can live here as long as you want. I told Adrian you were having some neighborhood issues which not a complete lie." Sandra said.
She was dressed elegantly in an oxford blue jumpsuit and all set to go to work. Though her nerves were jumbled she was professional when it came to her work.
I nodded not sure what to do. I was a little scared to be alone with Vance since I knew he was dangerous but then again he was my character so I had little relief in my head.
I walked to the dining table where Vance was sitting drinking a juice like he was a totally normal person.
"What is the plan of action?" I asked him since I had no idea what else to say.
"You tell me, you are the author." He tone was not pleasant.
Obviously, he hated me for ruining his life, for killing the one he loved. I didn't say a word and sat down in silence.
An apology wouldn't cut it.
"Why would you do something like that? You think my life and so many other lives are a joke. That you can manipulate them like you want."
I don't cry easily, I am that kind of person. But now my eyes water and I just stare at my toes not daring to lift my eyes up. And it overflowed from my eyes to the carpet under my feet.
"She died because you wrote that." He hissed with hatred.
I trembled at his words.
"I am sorry," I said because I wanted to say it.
I was a bad writer, no publishing company wanted me and here I was destroying lives with my useless talent. I should have given up writing a long time ago.
My phone vibrated and I saw that in all the havoc I haven't called my mom. I answered immediately before she went ballistic with worry.
"Hi, Mom." I tried to sound as normal as I can.
"Why didn't you call?" She started scolding me followed by a lecture how I will understand this feeling of worry once I have my own kid and etc etc.
"I am fine mom, just busy with work. I will call you back later."
"I have something important to discuss so make sure you call back." She said and I know what it will be about.
