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I feel like smacking Luca on the head the moment I see a girl fixing her ankle strap heels in front of the shoe cabinet.

He fucking told me she's not here. Or I quote 'She's leaving at 4. Come over.' Which is why I am here at 5.30, to avoid bumping on her.

"Hi," she greets me with a wide smile, one that shows she's one of those friendly girls who're genuine with their expressions.

But again, she's here as a sugar baby. She's basically getting paid for being an actress. Who knows Luca is her third or tenth Daddy that perhaps she wasn't so lucky with the previous ones hence she's been acting all these while, so yeah. I'm judging her because I used to be a liar myself. What a hypocrite, eh?

With similar build as mine, contrast to my boring assemble of plain white t-shirt and blue jeans, his new baby is wearing a gorgeous red dress that accentuates her curves.

Okay, one point for the style. And the friendly greeting? Another point.

Alright, I approve you baby girl.

But not enough f