Perfectly Criminal

Chapter One| Bad Plans

PERFECTLY CRIMINAL
—Chapter One—
Bad plans

I had always been the rich girl. That was me. And maybe it was because everyone had always called me spoilt or maybe it was because I wanted to prove I could be normal, but either way I knew where I had to be. New York: school of the arts.

Except the price was sky high and if I wanted to prove I didn't need my parents, then I would've had to pay for myself. And that's why I said yes that day.

I mean it wasn't like I asked to find myself in a new designer dress with matching shoes each month. And I certainly never asked for a bodyguard to accompany me everywhere (yes that includes the toilet) because of the jewels I wore around my neck. And believe me if I could swap the incessant torture that was dancing for a day of getting to be out of the limelight, I would take it. (And I guess I did.)

It was another party. I was in another dress, this time red fell gracefully in waterfall layers of silk, gliding across the floor. The dress was a v neck and a threaded flower pattern crawled around my waist. On my neck was a white diamond that matched the ones falling from my ears. My hair had been pulled into an intricate bun and my feet were in a lady's sharpest weapon: stilettos. They were also the bane of my existence and I was very tempted to snap the heel off but I think my mother would kill me if I ruined another pair of Louboutins.

"Ready Nick?" Martha popped her head around the door, smiling at me as the ladies maids finished their last touches with my hair before disappearing away.

"Let's get this night done with." I mumbled as I left my room, locking the door and made my way towards the ballroom.

"Sophia." My mother said when she noticed me. She was stood in a grey gown, holding a flute of champagne next to my father. Sophia Nicola Adams. Personally I had always preferred my middle name. It was my grandmothers name, Aka, the name of the only woman who ever understood me. In private I was always Nick but in public I became Sophia. The girl with the upmost grace and manners.

I greeted guests as my mother and I walked around the room.

"Please dance with someone?" My mother pleaded through a broad smile.

"I refuse to dance with Byron." I said looking over at the guy. He couldn't dance. His foot trampled on the girl he was dancing with who said nothing but winced. He seemed to gallop across the floor rather than dance and said the most cheesiest lines I had ever heard.

"Too late." My mother said as the squeaky voice of Byron sounded from behind me. My mother gave him a generous smile as I fought the internal battle to send him a scowl.

"Miss Sophia. A dance?" I was more than tempted to tell him I had prior engagements to bang my head on the wall or find the desert table but the look on my mothers face was enough to make me take in a sharp breath and nod my hand.

Sweaty palms grabbed my hand as he galloped to the centre of the ballroom.

"You know Sophia. We dance so often and I truly think I ought to drop out of my lessons because the only chemistry I need is the one one me and you have." He stomped on my foot. In all the time we've danced together somehow you still can't dance!

"It's a shame I'm more of a biology kind of girl." I said shrugging my shoulders. Another one of my toes were crushed under the heavy stomp of his foot.

"That's not quite what I meant. I was more referring to the sparks in our relationship." Sparks?! Sparks! What sparks could he possible be feeling and most importantly what bloody relationship is there?