THIS BOOK IS RATED MATURE, READ THE TRIGGER WARNINGS BEFORE READING.
"You've made a deal with the devil, chica. And you're going to suffer the consequences."
Esmeralda Hernandez likes to play pretend. She likes to pretend her life is perfect, that...
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CHAPTER SIX
I think the theme of me being screwed is becoming a bit too recurrent.
First of all, Milo Chase is picking me up in 10 minutes, and I have no idea what to wear to that event.
Second of all, he said, and I quote "don't be late or I'll get there without you," which would technically ruin our first impression as a couple, and since I am a perfectionist, I want everything to go smoothly.
I had planned to go pick a dress this afternoon, but I fell asleep and only woke up at 8 PM, I then spent 30 minutes freaking out, and managed to get my hair and my makeup ready, then made a mess in my room looking for an appropriate dress, which I still haven't found.
So here I am, in a white robe, checking my phone every five seconds in case he calls or sends a text.
I left most of my dresses in my flat New York, because I planned on getting a new wardrobe when I got here, but these two weeks have been so busy with me trying on outfits for my next photoshoots and talking with my manager about schedules that I haven't had the time for anything.
Also, my parents are out for dinner with Rita and Hunter, and some of the domestic workers are on vacation, since it's the middle of summer, so it's just me and my anxiety tonight. And judging by the mess on the floor I'd say we make an amazing pair.
I am still digging in my closet when I receive a text message from the devil himself, telling me that he is here.
I tell him to let himself in, and a few seconds later, there's a knock on my door.
I shout at him to come in and he says, closing the door behind him,
"Greta told me you were in your- What the hell are you doing in a robe ? Why aren't you dressed ?"
Oh he's mad.
I toy with the fabric of the robe and cringe.
"Well, there's a little problem."
He raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms around his chest.
He is way too hot for my hormones to handle right now.
"I'm listening."
"I don't know what to wear."
I wait for him to scream, or even throw his shoe at me or something, but he just looks at me with an intensity that make my cheeks turn red and hot.
Then he starts laughing. Yes, you heard that right. Milo Chase is laughing.
I freeze. I haven't heard him laugh in what looks like a decade, and if I could bottle this exact moment, I would keep it forever locked in a part of my heart.
When his burst of laugher finally ends, he clears his throat, as if realizing what he just did and scolds, "You have an endless wardrobe, plus you're a model and you don't know what to wear ? What kind of dumbassery is that ?"
