Cade Parkinson preferred his life in black and white. And when a spoiled heiress barged in and started spreading colors to it, he didn't like it one bit. He doesn't want anything to do with her. Even with his efforts of fending her off, she seems to...
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Kathie Jane
I have a secret to tell.
The first apartment I spent the first years of my 20s in is not something I earned through hard work. My dad paid for it. My mom did all the redecorating. And the rest of the bills, I thank my trust fund for. While my younger sister left town for about five years to forge her own career, I remained a trust fund princess.
Not that I'm ashamed of it. It doesn't warrant me to be better than other people. I simply had parents who worked their butts off to make me and Chassie George comfortable growing up. Although she refused to "sit still look pretty," I on the other hand, embraced it.
She is a career woman. A journalist.
I am the socialite.
They're not a far cry from our parents' life choices. The beautiful apples never fell far from the beautiful tree.
Our dad, David Lewis took over Lewis Corporation when he was just about the right age. He was a born businessman and a wonderful family man. Actually, quite similar to Chassie who married our childhood best friend Nathaniel Forester and had a four-year-old son.
Although they got divorced, the two had proven love is sweeter the second time around. And have a more glamorous, upcoming wedding than the first. Also, a lot more invitations to make for. I'm talking about every single person in town who's a fan of reconciliation romances.
While her career soared, I sat back and looked proudly and prettily as I followed our mother's glittering footsteps. Although I skipped the beauty queen part, I partied my whole life and socialize (with my dad's strict supervision in my teen years) and did charity alongside my mother.
Now, I'm stepping into the closest thing to independence. I just wish the man approaching me doesn't look like he's about to poop his pants.
"My apologies. The building double-booked the loading dock." One of the concierges gulped uncomfortably.
It was fine, really. My move-in day was something I was really looking forward to because I found the perfect apartment. To further stress how perfect it is, I've been looking for the right one for about a year.
It's not that my old apartment was a complete trash. It was for the convenience. The location allows me a drive in under ten minutes to the preschool I volunteered at. Now I picked my new apartment out of leisure. Mostly of excitement.
It's one of the high-rises in the city. The kind that towers above all else – like the blasting traffic in the morning. And since my volunteering hiatus is going to be extended to catch up for more parties and friends, I figured I should treat myself to my dream apartment.
