Raya Knight, daughter of North Castle's royal family, decides to ditch on her mothers oh so famous yearly gala, she finds herself being dragged to an illegal fight by her best friend. What she didn't know is that by the end of the night she would be...
27 : good day to you, sir! song : reason to hate you - rhys lewis
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When I last saw Vitale Bianchi–32 days ago, incase you're curious–he made it very clear that he is not a tail chaser. That if I left, he wouldn't chase me and beg me to stay.
Vitale Bianchi is many cruel things, but a liar is not one of them. For the past 32 days I've been wishing with my whole heart that he was one. A liar, I mean. I was secretly hoping every time my phone buzzed that it would display his name, but every time I flipped it over I was only met with mere disappointment.
All the days I found myself in the company of Vitale, I wished nothing more than to rid my life of him, and here I am; a month post Vitale, and wanting nothing more than his icy stare and comfortable silence.
Exactly two weeks after I arrived home, my mother stood at our front door, surrounded by her luggage. Her face was screwed up into something high and mighty, making me feel like a small bug on the bottom of her Louboutin heels.
"I'm going on a business trip, darling," she informed me as she slipped on her black gloves. "I'll be back in a week or so, behave, and don't try to leave without Bernard, I'll know," Her tone was harsh and her blue eyes pinned me. I refrained from rolling my eyes in response.
"Of course, mother," I agreed, but could feel the annoyance in my own tone.
My mother has been going on frequent business trips for the past year, and it was only four and a half months ago when she was on one of these infamous business trips that I realized what exactly she was doing. She was flying to Spain to search for my father, and every time she came back empty handed.
I thought about nagging her about it the first time she arrived back home after my discovery, but the worn out expression and puffy bags under her tired blue eyes made the words on the tip of my tongue dissolve into nothing but an airy sigh.
Instead, for the past four and a half months of these trips, when she returned I would ask her vague questions.
"How was your trip?" I would ask her. She would always respond with a monotone "fine, dear."
"Did you have fun?" To which she would always respond with, "There is no pleasure in business, darling."
After my mother left in one of our many black SUV's, I waited exactly three minutes until I was sure she was past the gates before dialing Alanna's number, pressing the phone between my shoulder and ear as I grabbed my Prada duffel bag and filled it to the brim with clothes.
She picked up on the fourth ring, and was more than elated to hear the news of my mothers departure. Within the hour, I was standing on her rickety doorstep.
I had been at Alanna's for a little over two weeks now, and we were just now leaving the house for the first time together. Her hands gripped her thighs, fingers clawing at the flesh through the denim of her pants. I could feel her anger radiating off of her tense body from the drivers seat.
