Standing on Lindsey's front porch I wait patiently as Louis—our chauffeur—pulls up in her driveway while nibbling on a chocolate bar. After going through five movies, I concluded that I need to change out of my crumpled shirt and baggy sweatpants before going to the game this evening and so asked Noah to send the driver a bit early.
Jumping into the back seat, I'm instantly greeted warmly by Louis. "Good evening Miss Santos," he greets politely while pulling out of her driveway.
"Good evening Louis! Take me home first please," I say in a respectful tone. If there is one thing my mum always told me is that one should always be respectful to others no matter what their job or gender is.
'Respect unlike love has to be earned. If you want others to respect you, you have to learn to respect others' Were her exact words. Even at the tender age of seven mum made it a point to keep reminding me of the same.
"Of course, Miss Santos," he replies and I just nod in acknowledgment.
Switching on my phone I glance at my inbox for the first time since last night. And am not at all surprised when I notice that most of them are from Mr. Dirtbag. Each of his text displayed a different level of aggression and get out right threatening when it reaches the final ones.
All of them have just one thing in common, other than being sent from the same dirtbag. All of them want my confirmation on today's plans, rolling my eyes at his ddesperacy, I just text a simple 'I'll be there' to him in response to his numerous texts.
Sighing I put my phone back into my bag and patiently wait to reach home. My brain busies itself in strategizing my plan to get Parker off my case. There are three scenarios in which my plan and end in; one: he buys my story and backs off. Two: he doesn't buy it and continues to blackmail me. And lastly, three: he buys it and yet send or shows Jack the voice recording either way.
This got me thinking. 'What if like Lindsey, Parker is just bluffing about having our conversation on tape?' The probability of this being true is substantially high.
My train of thoughts comes to a screeching halt when Louis pull up in our driveway. Thanking him and jump out of the car and head upstairs to my room. My brows crease in uncertainty when I find that my room door isn't shut as I left it when I left.
Carefully I crack the door open a bit more only to be greeted by the sight of Miss Jonas doing up my bed and cleaning my room. Sighing I push the door open full and walk-in making my presence known, startling her in the process.
"Oh Miss Santos! You scared the daylights out of me!" She exclaims with a frightened look, her hands placed on her chest.
"You know I can make my own bed, right?" I say as I walk into my closet to find something comfortable to wear.
"I'm aware you are Miss, but Mr. Santos has given the staff strict orders that you are not to do any work around the house whatsoever," she replies, referring to Xavier.
"Well I know that, but I can clean my own room," I argue back stubbornly.
"Of course, Miss, but we have orders," she concludes. I don't press the subject any further fully aware that there is no use.
Changing into a comfortable attire, I proceed back into my room. Gathering my wallet, phone, and other accessories I stuff them into a cute sling bag which I throw over my head and across my shoulder and head downstairs.
Glancing at my wristwatch, I conclude that I still have about half an hour before I had to leave to meet Mr. Dirtbag. The pond being my happy place, I settle on going back out there and paying the duck another visit.
The ducks start quacking obnoxiously loud all of a sudden at my arrival. Is it out of joy or irritation, I can't tell, but it sure makes me feel special? Rolling my eyes at the hyper birds, I take a seat on a small rock that sits at the side of the pond.
"I missed you too," I tell them and they just ignore me. But that doesn't mean that I would stop, they are the only ones who listen to me without saying a word in response.
"You know, I should really name each of you," I inform them while I try to think of potential names for them.
"How about Daisy?" To this, I receive a weird sound which resembles a honk of disapproval from the duck closets to me.
"No?" I ask and am rewarded with the same sound in response just this time a little louder, taking me by surprise. "Okay! Okay! Not Daisy," I reassure, holding my hands up in surrender.
I say silent for a little while longer, mentally searching for more suitable names for the duck while humming to myself. "What about Jemima, Thelma, or Quackers?" And once again I receive the same sound of disapproval.
"How does Daffy sound?" An unknown voice suggests, startling me in the process.
Turning around to face the owner of the voice, my eyes widen noticeably when my eyes lock with his. His green sparkling eyes unlike our previous encounters are filled with amusement and cheerfulness. I spot a small almost invisible yet charming smile on his handsome face which enhances his features even more.
"What, don't like the name?" He inquires, stopping my eyes from studying him further and snapping me out of my daze.
"Um-Uh... No, I-I was just... Um..." My mouth runs dry as my brain goes numb. "It's a nice name," I agree shyly, mumbling under my breath once I find my words.
"Do you like that name boy?" He asks the same duck I was talking to previously, crouching down beside me facing the pond.
"How are you so sure he's a boy?" I question with an unknown surge of courage and frowned brows, turning to face him only to realize our close proximities.
Clearing my throat, I scoot away from him awkwardly yet he seems unaffected by it. "To answer your question, your duck is an American Pekin. The easiest way to distinguish a male Pekin from a female one is by the drake feather." I look at him in confusion at the use of the unfamiliar terminology.
"The drake is the curled feather at the end of his tail. And if you listen carefully, you'll realize that they also have different quacks. Females have a louder quack, while male ducks just like this fallow here has a quitter quack," he explains while gazing into my eyes as he speaks which makes it almost impossible to concentrate on what he's saying.
"I-I didn't know that," I acknowledge, pulling my gaze away from his.
"Well you do now," he adds with a shrug which I see from my peripheral vision.
"I'm Alessandro Genovese," he introduces, standing to his full height outstretching his right hand towards me.
Taking his outstretched hand, I raise to my full height as I introduce myself, "Astoria Santos."
"I know," he replies walking back towards the mansion, a small amused smirk adorning his face while his eyes twinkled with an emotion I fail to read.
Author's Note:
Merry Christmas everyone!!!
To be honest with y'all, I had a really tough time choosing between Enrique and Alessandro, but in the end, concluded it with the one with the most votes.
But don't be too disappointed, the names that I haven't used in this book I will be incorporating in my next, older brother book.
Now I won't be starting with that book until I've finished with this one, but I do have a plot in mind.
And before you ask, no it's not a mafia brother book, but something completely different. But just like WTB, this book too will be filled with mystery, action and a badass protagonist.
Thanks for reading. Don't forget to...
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~Kia