"..and voila Valerie Delgado has come to life."
Laying the Chanel perfume on her billion-dollar vanity, Valerie licked her lips, effacing any excessive amount of lip taint smudging her luscious ones. She gave herself a final scrutinize and what layed on the mirror's reflection was indeed a mesmerizing sight; the sultry, skin-tight red dress hugged curves her in all the right places. The dress went down to her ankles, almost covering all her body parts if it wasn't for the slit which showed off her legs, radiating an inviting aura yet in an unapproachable manner. To top it of she wore a diamond necklace to complement her look.
Groaning as the familiar ringtone reached her ears, Valerie hurry herself downstairs. He sure is an impatient man. Time is money, she'd always hear him say. Such an overused cliché line every business man seemed to love.
Forcing a smile, Valerie greeted her father, "Hi, daddy."
"Sweetheart," a nickname he used whenever he forgets her name causing her stomach to twist and turn. "I bought you shoes," he gestured to the box in the backseat which he didn't even bother to wrap. "YSL" it said.
Yep. "Thank you, daddy."
The drive was as usual, intense and silent — him intimidating her with silence, leaving poor Valerie with the job of staring out the window and watching the scenery of skyscrapers lighting up the night sky. What a lovely way to start the night.
After about a good 20 minutes, the car halted and she thank the gods for the a short ride. You see, it's a rare chance for Valerie to see her dad, five times a year being the average. Being a busy man, his schedule was always booked with business trips and flights. He never stayed at the same city more than a week.
"Valerie, what took you so long? Geez!" a voice snapped her out of her thoughts. "Oh, hi, Mr. Kishimoto."
"Maddy, hey," the blonde greeted. Madelyn Kim, my father's business partner's daughter.
Valerie gave her father a look for him to excuse her to which he nods, "But no drinks. Oh and wear this, it might be cold inside," he said, handing her a beige faux fur scarf.
The location was a popular bar in Los Angeles only a few could enter, a few being rich people. Despite that, this place was still crowded with lots of people and it's quite hard for Valerie to move. She look over to see her dad and his business friends entering the VIP room to talk about god-knows-what. She sighed, it's probably raining outside.
"Vall, I'll be back in a minute, my dad needs me."
"Oh, sure. It's alright, I'll just socialize with all these strangers I don't even know," her excessive boredom woke up the mean, sarcastic bitch inside of her which seemed to piqued the interest of the man behind her.
"Well, parties exists to meet, don't they?" Oh god, she thought as her blue orbs met the ominous gaze of a young man she—with her quite poor judgemental capability—guessed to be quite the same age with her, maybe more, maybe less. "Champagne?" he offers, a smirk unknowingly sneaking up his already attractive features.
"No drinks," the threatening tone of her beloved father replayed in her mind. What if he finds out, she thought, calculating all the consequences and the dangers behind the simple beverage.
"Sure," she pushed her thoughts down the drain as she returned his smug smile, taking the offer, "So, what's your name, womanizer?"
He chuckled at the nickname, licking his lips for a short moment, like a predator ready to play with his prey. His deep, raucous chuckle almost ruining her wall of confidence—keyword: almost—but we all know almost is never enough.
"Oliver," his eyes never left her as he handed her the poison. But his name screams bloody danger and Valerie could feel it from the beads of sweats forming not only from her hands, but from her heart as well; but she could gave less than a fuck about anatomy and the doubtful existence of sweat glands near the cardio since Valerie was always up for a challenge.
"Valerie Delgado."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Valerie Delgado," she took the offer and he clinked their glasses together. "I'm sure," Valerie couldn't help but notice the dangerous glint in his eyes which send chills down her spine.
— ❧❦☙ —
Valerie took yet another sip from her champagne, the alcohol willing to take over by every new one. For the past five minutes, Valerie and Oliver had been engaged in a conversation; just small talk. But the fact that for once, she'd finally had found someone who's up for the thrill causes her to want to win him over even more. Maybe he'd ask for her phone number, or perhaps, a kiss. The alcohol rushing in her veins makes Valerie think beyond that, and yes, it is quite the pleasant thought.
"I've never seen you before, did you just move here?" Valerie, for the first time, striked a topic, interested upon his whereabouts. He didn't missed out on her interest, an intriguing chuckle came from his mouth, lulls her deeper.
"Pretty much, I just moved yesterday from LA," Oliver stood up from his seat and reached his arm out to Valerie. "You up for a dance? I've heard quite a lot from you, now I wanna see," at that Valerie's reddened cheek only seemed to worsen as she let Oliver guide her to the dance floor, the alcohol lending her a sip of confidence — but the realization had been delayed by the alcohol; Valerie can't dance. Sure, she'd took dance classes with her friends. But that was 6 years ago and now Valerie hated dancing with passion.
"You do know that I'm drunk, right?" she stopped once she felt herself almost tripping over causing him to look at her, the evident smirk still glued on his lips.
Oliver reached out to her hand, "I'll guide you." The intoxicating scent of his cologne infiltrated her lungs as she felt herself being pulled closer, dizzying her even further. Despite that, Valerie couldn't miss out on the so-called butterflies on her stomach. Her mind wondered was this really it or was this something common you get unfer the influence of alcohol. Lost in her thoughts, Valerie missed a step almost tripping them both over if it wasn't for Oliver's strong hands, "You should watch your step," he warned and as if on cue, her favorite song starts to play. Crush, by Cigarettes after Sex. The familiar melody she'd grown to love urging her to dance more. But Oliver shows no boundaries: his next sentence leaves Valerie breathless and for the first time she had never wanted to dance more and that's a start.
"And also your lips."
Oh and did I mention Valerie had a boyfriend? The thought seemed to have slipped my mind — and Valerie's most definitely.
— ❧❦☙ —
xoxo 💋
worldsbiggestbitch
