Why don't you get a taste?
Golden girl Alison Rivers has it all: brains, looks, money, a father who adores her, and any man she wants... Or so she thought.
When she sets her eyes on Lorenzo Visconti, her academy's Italian, irresistible principal, sh...
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I rolled my eyes and sighed in boredom, letting myself fall carelessly onto the emerald satin sheets that covered Lydia's bed.
She possessed a variety of different shades of green bedcovers, for it was her favorite color and, most importantly, so that her sheets would be en pendant with her jade eyes.
I pushed my legs up in the air and stretched them, slightly twisting my ankles and cracking them. "I just don't like this, you know? I miss my daddy."
Lydia was sitting at her vanity, curling her auburn hair in big, bouncy waves as she listened to my unending complaints, something she had been doing for the past hour. "Honey, you can't act your usual spoiled self if you want to fix this up."
I huffed, giving a prime example of my 'spoiled self'. "So I'm supposed to apologize again? After I already did so? Didn't you see how hardheaded he is? He doesn't even want to hear any of my explanations. I'm pretty sure that witch turned him against me even more."
Victoria was probably telling my father just how irresponsible and untrustworthy I am right at that same exact moment, hiding her spiteful intentions behind a worried and concerned facade. This was a golden opportunity for her, since she always felt threatened by my close relationship with him. As if I weren't his bloody creation.
She pursed her lips and turned to face me, raising one sculpted brow. "You're his favorite girl, he literally adores you. Are you really letting her intimidate you right now? Thought you'd be more confident."
Lydia was right. I am my dad's favorite girl, I am his daughter. Victoria has nothing on me.
But I also messed up big time, and it was going to take me a little more effort than just a pout and a kiss to make him forgive me. I could always offer to clean up the house for a month or something, but we had maids for that so it wasn't going to change anything for him. Just what could I even do?
I rolled around and laid on my stomach, burying my head into her fluffy duvet and releasing a frustrated scream. "What the hell am I supposed to do? I'm like the perfect daughter."
She only gave me a half shrug in response, turning back around and focusing on her hair again. "I don't know, my dad has never caught me making out with a 38-year-old."
"Fuck you."
She let out a little laugh. "Oh, come on. It's going to be easy, don't worry about it. Just be sweet and docile, avoid giving him an attitude if things don't immediately go your way. You're really overthinking this."
Another exasperated sigh left my lips, but I realized that she was right. I was torturing myself with all my useless worries. So I decided to change the subject. "I've been meaning to ask you something."
Lydia didn't look back at me, she kept on curling her hair and urged me to continue with a quick gesture of her hand.
