ANGELIC...
When I wake up in the morning, my head is exploding. Last night slowly seeps into my memory, and I wait for regret to come, but it doesn't. Until I opened my eyes, it was like everything was just a dream. A good dream.
Skyla didn't give me much information about why she was dating the Bronx. Not that it's wrong, but it's not the kind of place an oil heiress visits. However, I didn't hate it. Maybe he even liked modified cars, people who don't care what other people think, and the smell of the streets. Maybe.
Reluctantly, I open my eyes. All the blinds are drawn, so the room is delightfully dark. I get up and don't even bother to put on the bathrobe over the nightgown. I tend to be very formal and obedient, but the past few days have shown me that my behavior won't change our future. The failure is almost definitive for the Donneli family.
I go to the bathroom, brush my teeth and comb my hair. My face is healthy red, and I can only say it's been since last night. Adrenaline. And maybe Mr. Campbell had something to do with it. The teasing that surrounds us whenever we're close is what's made me feel alive for the past few days. But still, I don't like it. I don't like how my sixth sense is heightened, in a bad way, when it's there.
I take my cell phone and leave the room. I respond to a text from Skyla, wondering if I'm okay, as I walk downstairs. Of course she's worried, after all the Bronx is like the bad side of New York, the place where even the worst people don't want to be.
Downstairs, the breakfast table is set. My father is not there, only Margot. She is sitting in the chair to the right of the end of the table, with her thirty thousand dollar purse on the chair beside her, indicating that she will be leaving soon. No news. I move closer, pretending to type on my phone so I don't have to talk to him again.
"Hello," she said anyway.
- Good.
**
I sit down and place my briefcase on my lap. I put the phone down and help myself to scrambled eggs and orange juice. I feel Margot's gaze on me, and I almost think she knows what I did last night. But no, she doesn't know. Margot doesn't bother to think about what I'm doing. And now that we're on the verge of bankruptcy, I doubt she'll be a Donneli for long.
- You don't want to know where your father is? - she prompts.
- Where's my dad?
- In the ballroom. An investor showed interest in sponsoring her candidacy - she says, with a tone of voice that does not indicate happiness.
- I thought no one wanted to sponsor him.
- They didn't - said Margot - But now...
- Is that the senator? - I ask before taking a sip of juice.
- The senator? - she laughs - The only thing he wants is to put the name Mares on you. Other than that, it won't help Elliot.
- So who? - as soon as the words come out of my mouth, the double doors of the bedroom entrance open. Margot and I turned to watch Elliot Donneli and Bruce Campbell enter, respectively.
Some security guards follow them, however, given Elliot's current reputation, I doubt they are protecting him.
My mouth is dry. My stomach turns at the thought of Bruce being here just to show my family that I'm not the nice girl I seem anymore. He and Elliot exchange words as they walk towards us. Bruce wears a black suit and a dark brown overcoat, handsome and powerful, like yesterday. The difference is, in the Bronx, I saw it like never before. Even that man with spiky red hair, Max I think, had respect for Bruce. Fear, maybe. This makes me think; What would make a guy from the Bronx scared of a guy in a suit? Who is Bruce really?
- Hello - my father greets.
"Hello, Dad," I reply, my voice cracking a little.
- Ladies - Bruce salutes. He's so close I can smell him, and I hate myself for not hating him. This scent reminds me of all the times we were too close.
- Join us for breakfast. At lunch too, who knows - Margot's offer. I turn to her, intrigued by her suddenly too soft tone of voice.
- I appreciate it, but I have to refuse.
- We made a lot of plans today. It's promising. We will be using the ballroom for my campaigns next week - Elliot informs.
"I thought you weren't going to run away," I said. Not that I have anything against my dad continuing to be president, but given his health and financial issues, maybe it's best to play it safe.
- He wouldn't. But there are people who like to take risks – Bruce answers for him, and I can sense the irony behind his voice.
I turn back to him, only to look at his handsome, stupidly cynical face with those sly green eyes. That must be the evil of all handsome men, by the way. We looked at each other for a few seconds before I looked away, because he sure wouldn't.
- Do you have anything against my candidacy? - Elliot asks, I think to lighten the mood.
- I? Not. I just want you to take care of your health - I answer.