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My father, Seth, didn’t believe in wrapping Abigail and I in protective bubbles. He never wanted us to be blindsided by what went on around us. In many ways, I was grateful for this. There wasn’t much I heard or saw that surprised me anymore. From sex trafficking to drug deals, I’d seen it all at least once.
Well, nothing surprised me up until I spun around on my stool.
The dress shoes were the first thing I noticed. They were so damn shiny I could almost see my reflection in them. My eyes traveled up the dark pant-legs of a suit, over the jacket of said suit, hugging a visually muscular frame, and landed on the face of a god. Maybe the god part was pushing it, but he was the most beautiful man I had ever seen.
“You must be Willow,” his voice was smooth, firm. He looked me over in a clinical way. I couldn’t explain how it made me feel, because I’d never felt anything like it until right then.
It only took me a fraction of a second to realize who he was.
“Don’t you talk?” He spoke again, looking down at me.
“Not to strangers.” I shrugged, wondering why he was here in the first place. Anyone who was no one or someone knew who the Serbans were. This life was a pyramid scheme, and everyone was desperately trying to reach the top. That’s where the Serbans were, and had been for years from what I was told.
“I’m not a stranger,” he replied coolly. Before I could come back with a snarky reply people started popping out of the woodwork. Abigail rushed up to us with stars in her eyes, staring at Pierce like he was a double layered fudge cake, and my father’s loud voice had us all turning our heads.
“Ah, I see you’ve met my beautiful hijas.” Seth approached with what looked like a genuine smile on his face.
This confused me even more; he hadn’t uttered a word about who he was meeting today, only that it was important. Most of the time we knew.
“I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself just yet,” Pierce said, looking from my father to me, ignoring my sister completely.
“I’m Willow, this is Abby, and you’re Mr. Serban.” Based on the look my father shot me, he wasn’t impressed with my introductory skills. I added Mr. out of respect, so I personally thought I did fine.
Abigail started to snicker beside me but quickly swallowed it down when Seth shot her a sour look. Pierce studied me for a beat before one corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk. I felt a warmth on my face I didn’t know how to explain, causing me to look away from his intense gaze.
“Such a cheeky little rebel,” he mused. I didn’t miss Seth tensing and the slight flash of anger in his dark eyes.
But he forced a smile and chuckled along anyway. My face heated further from the nickname. He hadn’t said it to be cute. He must have known I’d been expelled and forced to switch schools. Everyone seemed to know.
The reason why?
Sarah Marshall’s family let the whole world know that me, Willow Borgia, had assaulted their little angel.
“Why don’t we go upstairs and discuss business?” My father suggested after clearing his throat. Pierce agreed, and with one last nod at my sister and me, they set off across the club. Abigail said something about his looks, but I barely acknowledged it. I was more concerned with the fact our father was meeting with the one man he told us to never trust.
CHAPTER FIVE
Present
Four 1/2Years Later
My senses were assaulted by fifty different colognes and perfumes at once. Men stood around donning suits while women posed like beautified statues, making robotic movements, too afraid acting naturally would mess up their hair. I wondered if they realized how ridiculous they came off.
Based on the catty looks I was receiving from the girls my age; they thought the same thing about me.
I didn’t care; those snobby bitches were nothing but drama and headaches. I had never fit in with them. Every single one of those girls had always looked at me like I was some gross mucus infection. Compliments of Sarah Marshall. If she hadn’t picked on my sister every day, we would have never had a problem.
So, fortunately, I’d managed to slither away from anyone trying to drag me into a conversation that evening. Abigail, however, wasn’t so lucky. My sister looked painfully bored, and Ms. Bransen didn’t look like she was going to shut up anytime soon.
That was my cue to get some fresh air. Being surrounded by people with plastic smiles and hidden motives gets old, fast.
I caught my father’s eye from across the room.
He slightly nodded his head and smiled at me–his way of saying he understood my need to slip away for a few minutes. The man was big on appearances, even more for family supporting family. If it weren’t for that, I wouldn’t have shown up. These events were nothing but illusions used to cover up what went on in these people’s personal lives.
