"Olivia Lawson...Olivia Bethany Lawson." Vincent repeats as if he is trying to familiarise himself with my name. “The Olivia Bethany Lawson.” He finishes with a cold laugh as I close the doors to the private balcony right next to the main hall. I agreed to give him the five minutes he demanded, with Hugo standing outside, keeping watch to avoid eavesdroppers from paparazzi posing as guests. Vincent reaches for a flask inside his jacket and takes a swig. He likes rum, but since the liquid in that flask smells like nail polish remover, it must be cheap vodka. "They say three years is enough to know a person, but boy, did you elude me. Was it funny? Were you laughing when you were trying to find out how commoners live? How they struggle? Was it easy playing pretend?" He asks as bright pink patches paint his cheeks. I don’t remember the last time I saw Vincent tipsy from one shot; whatever is in that flask must be strong; it's best we finish this quickly. "Pretend?" I repeat wit
The tears stop, but the hollowness in my chest persists until I notice the paleness of his hands as they grip the steering wheel so tightly that I fear it may snap from its slot in the car. Crap, he is actually angry. The car takes a sudden and most definitely unlawful sharp turn, causing me to hold on for dear life on the seat. Sadness seems to escape me, replaced entirely by the fear curling in my veins at the sudden hoots that follow his dangerous driving. “Have you lost your mind?” He doesn’t answer my yelled question, and for some reason, I can’t bring myself to force him to answer because my eyes are drawn to the veins lining his arms, settling snugly next to the firm muscles on his upper arm. My pulse quickens, and no, it's not fear but exhilaration that drives it: I made a man this gorgeous jealous! I can't remember the last time Vincent felt jealous. To him, I was always the obedient housewife who couldn't say no to him, someone who would always choose him, so there was
“No…uh, pretend I didn’t say anything. Okay, here!”I fumble with my dress’s zip hurriedly to dispel the awkwardness I caused with my outburst, but it seems caught on something.“I’ll get naked.”I add that because taking the dress off is taking longer than I thought, and I don’t want him to think I'm hesitating.Fuck…this is not how I imagined foreplay would feel like, and what the hell is wrong with this dress? Why won't it get off me?The sound of fabric tearing makes me stop tugging and instead cringe at my actions."Turn around."Matteo says softly, but at this point, shouldn’t I just go home and scream at my pillow?He is perfect, while I feel like a clumsy fool!“Turn around, Olivia.”He says again, but this time, it feels more like a command than a request, so my body complies as if it has been trained.I hear him stand from the couch, and within a few seconds, his warm hands lift mine to expose my zipper. He tugs it gently, and it gives way completely after he pushes my hands
*Vincent James Vincent sat shocked for a few minutes. The swirling anger in his chest seemed to fade and give into shock. When the screen on his phone lit up again, he answered it."Lisen here, you son of-""Mr Vincent James?"A feminine voice called, making him realise the caller on the other end of the device was someone else.“This is he.""The procedure has been postponed. Unfortunately, the donor was intoxicated at the time of the scheduled surgery.""No…no! What? Natasha got drunk?”Without wasting much time, he grabbed his keys, stepped out of the car and locked it before rushing towards the hospital.**"Hi...zzz, baby."Natasha greeted Vincent with a smile, flushed cheeks and disoriented movements—she really got drunk before the surgery."Why? Why would you get drunk, Tasha!"He wanted to yell, but she always cried when he did."I’m- I’m not drunk. Well, Jus…jus a lil bit."Natasha pinched her thumb and index finger to indicate how ‘little’ she was drunk."Fucks sake! Tasha
"I..."I drawl as I pinch the bridge of my nose because I cannot believe this is happening.How can she have no common sense? How could she have forgotten how she treated me? What gives her the courage to walk into my space and demand favours?"Miss James, I will not be sending anything to you or your friends; for future reference, we have no more to discuss between us."I respond as clearly and calmly as possible before turning away from Nancy to address her friends."Mrs Drew and Miss Filmore, if you wish to make a purchase, we have numerous stores in the city; feel free to visit, peruse and purchase the clothes at full price. Now, if you will all excuse m-"I barely finish my sentence when a handbag slams hard on me, followed by a slap that irritates me more than surprises me; before my hand even soothes my stinging cheek, the security around us restrain my former mother-in-law."You bitch! My son gave everything to you! How dare you act like you are better than us when we were wit
The ice cream in my hand has long melted; even my fingers are sticky. I don’t think Mum knows how to comfort me, or anyone for that matter.As we stood outside the ice cream shop, her exact words were, ‘This always cheers you up!’ Yes, ice cream, specifically saffron, always cheered me up when I was twelve. Right now, I both want and crave something strong enough to make me forget how I feel, even if it's for a moment."Bethany..."Mum calls softly as the car’s ambience lulls my thoughts to a slow. The driver easily joins the Bridgeway as I watch the glittering lights in the distance reflect atop river Florence."There are many ways to have a baby; technology is too advanced to excuse that he should have discussed this with you! and it's also too advanced for you to think that a test from one hospital means you can't get pregnant! There is a way through this.”"I know."I reply tiredly; my throat is hoarse from all the crying.I should be glad that I didn’t have to subject a child to
"I'm not one for repeating myself, cara mia. Am I interrupting something?"Matteo repeats. I must have stared at him without answering for longer than I thought."This is a non-smoking zone, Mr D’Amico.”"Answer me."He commands with a scowl when I try to change the subject.I hate it. I hate how I always seem to take commands from anyone who thinks they know better: Vincent, sometimes Mum and now him."This is Mr Edward Lee, head of Athleisure’s creative department. I want to debrief with him over coffee. Now then, Mr D'Amico, how else can I help you, aside from pointing you towards the smoking zone?"He sneers when I use ‘Mr. D’Amico’."I know a good coffee place; why don't I take you?"He asks."You are missing the 'debriefing’ part. I would much rather keep corporate discussions private.”I respond through gritted teeth."Ah!"He exclaims with a smile as he reaches for his wallet in his back pocket, pulls it out and removes a few notes."Silly me: here, for your coffee. I'll make
Matteo D’Amico Matteo didn't normally get upset, but that was because things always went his way; people clamoured to bend to even his most trivial wants and needs. So why didn’t she? All he wanted was for Olivia to step away from the man she introduced as her 'employee' despite the googly eyes he had around her. He wanted her to choose him and dismiss the other man, but she didn’t. The man left by his will, and she ran away from him. Even with his eyes shut and the wind blowing wildly at the rooftop, her sweet white chocolate scent filled his nostrils, and his tongue invading her mouth still tasted the same with the disgusting effect of soothing his anger, especially because her body welcomed his. It should not be that way. The perfume he left her at the hotel was floral; did she not put it on? Her lips tore from his, and her cry pierced the night; her hands held onto his shoulders as she lifted her leg so he could rub against her wet centre faster. Her panties were wet, enablin