west coast | levi.a

𝟏.𝟓

❧𝐰𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐚𝐬𝐭❧

"Yes papa! I'm fine!. I told you one million times!" Y/N huffed on the phone, packing her laundry away as your her worried tiresomely on the phone in french. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head at the mere thought of how her father only fussed over her when they were thousands of miles apart. Perhaps distance did make the heart fonder.

"I know mon chou, but your mama and I have been worried about you, you rarely text anymore or call us. Que se passe-t-il? School?"

"Nothing is the matter. School is a lot of work, you know how high demanding universities are. I didn't want to bother you or mama because of the baby!" Y/N insisted, but she hadn't called because she was certainly, most definitely avoiding and attempting to distance from her parents. Her life had been all the much sweeter without their interference.

"When will you be coming back home?"

"Papa! The school year has barely started! Maybe I'll come back for Christmas, but you do realise the flight from Washington to London is 7 hours minimum? I don't know if that's enough effort for just a week."

"A week? Why not stay the entire two weeks? You know how busy the family gets during Christmas time, and you'll be needed for a lot of events."

"I thought we made a deal that if I were to take over the company, you'd tone it down on needing me at all your silly little galas and events. I have a life here too papa." Y/N tried to say as nicely as possible through bared teeth, hating that her family never took her American life seriously.

"Fine. I don't like this Y/N. How can you control the company when you're spending the next few years so far away? But anyways, as long as you get better in time. Please call me or your mother soon ma petite cherie."

"Au revoir papa." Y/N muttered, ending the call and throwing her phone onto her bed whilst letting out a little scream of fury as Sasha came in and flopping onto her bed, laughing at a very frustrated Y/N.

"Merde!" The girl cursed under her breath as her still giggling friend picked up her phone, nodding when she saw 'papa.' on the phone.

"I assumed you were on the phone to your father."

Like most people at Trost, Y/N came from a family that had money dating back centuries, and Y/N had been fortunate enough to be the heir to a company that spread across Europe, a corporation that flourished in the late nineteenth century due to her great great...whatever grandfather's knack for innovation.

Of course, being heir to such riches had its wonders when Y/N was younger, but competing against several siblings for position as heir, despite being the eldest, came with stifling pressures. Since she could talk, Y/N had been subjected to a gilded cage of expectations and privileges that at some point, broke her. In an agreement with her father, they both decided that time away in America would prove useful. In Y/N's case, she needed to heal away from her family, and in her father's case, getting to know how the world worked in America would be an asset to his eldest daughter.

Not that Y/N did much of what her father wanted anyway, but he didn't have to know.

"Who else would I be speaking French to?" Y/N  snapped before mouthing sorry to Sasha who shrugged, Y/N moving on swiftly, trying to rack her brain, thinking of any French hook ups as Sasha rolled her eyes.