2 years later
“Can you fucking hurry? We’ll be late!”
“We will not be late, Kiara,” Chris tried to appease her.
She came closer to look at the computer screen from above his shoulder, and knew he was getting a pretty accurate demonstration of having someone breathing
Kiara was having the exact opposite of a blast. The changing room they set aside for her was bigger than she was used to, and it seemed like the old childhood bedroom of an entitled little prick. It probably was, considering what she'd seen so far. One of the party organizers had thoroughly instructed a servant to lead her there through the back entrance, so the attendees wouldn’t catch a glimpse of the ‘performer’ before the ‘main act’.Main act my ass, all those stuck up moneybags couldn't care less about her performance. They would certainly be occupied closing billion-do
The bar of his childhood home used to be a forbidden place for Chris. He would often sneak around the house hoping to simply sit on the high stools and play businessman. The image of his father drinking a glass of whiskey after hours was ingrained in his memory from a very early age, and he could almost see the stamp of his trousers’ back pocket button engraved on the stool leather. Today, however, the bar was full of drunk ass-kissers that stuck to the counter like scrambled eggs and the frying pan. As if they didn't have the means to taste that kind of liquor elsewhere.
Kiara cursed her way out of the ballroom, running towards what she thought would be the kitchen and, luckily, her way out of there. What were the fucking odds! The only person who had the decency to watch her act till the very end, that devilishly handsome piece of work that ran to hold her before she ‘fell’. Fate was way too cruel with her. Not that she would have stayed there and engaged in a heartfelt conversation about her act and whatever else with that delightful sin of a man. But still, must he be the one to recognize her little theft? How stupid was she to think she could wear it to the performance without consequence! Now she found herself in the kitchen pondering over whether it wa
Chris was mad. No, not mad. He was livid. He had been ever since he laid eyes on the recently restored family jewel on the ring finger of that damn thief. Things only escalated when he reached his childhood room and found the top drawer of his desk unlocked. He rummaged through the jewelry, trying to grasp if anything else was missing, but without the specific pattern he arranged the items, he couldn’t be sure. The most valuable pieces were still there, but maybe she only got the ring because it was the easiest one to carry.She had probably fled the scene by now, and he looked around the room to f
The party went late into the night, and each passing minute was hell to Chris. He had only one thing in his mind, and those clueless guests were keeping him from it. He had to entertain the Jacksons and their daughter way longer than he'd planned, and couldn't take it anymore. To make things worse, his father decided to make an appearance right as the conversation was organically coming to an end, which added new fire to the dying dialogue. Of course, the theme shifted to business right away, since Mr. Jackson was one of his father's many business associates
“Kiara, you dirty hoe! What did you steal this time?” His words were aggressive, but his tone was absolutely flooded with inquisitive humor.“Hello to you too, Michael,” She said over the burner phone she bought to call him.“Don't you dare hello me right now, bitch!” Kiara loved Michael's flamboyant personality, especially when he faked being angry to get a juicy gossip out of her. Unfortunately for her, this time there really was one.
Frustration seemed to be the only word in Chris' vocabulary that weekend. Sunday had come and gone, and he seemed to have hit all the possible dead ends regarding the damn woman. By Monday, he was beginning to think he would never see her again. It. The ring. Work was hell. All his associates who didn't come to the party were passing by his office to congratulate him on the promotion, preventing him from getting any real work done. To make things worse, he could fee
Once he sorted things out in the kitchen, Chris proceeded to the tearoom to talk to his mother. He was not in the mood for it, but she was expecting him and there was no excuse he could think of to get away from it.Patricia was leisurely preparing a backgammon board for them to play together, a habit they acquired during his father's long trips abroad. It was a fun activity and a great distraction from the impending sense of abandonment that surrounded the house during those periods. That specific board was a gift from Edgar after a particularly long trip to Japan. It was his mother's favorite, with sev