Miles' Point of View
"You're a dumbass. I hope you know that. You're lucky I like it." My dad, Michael, said. I was seated on the floor as he applied the toner to my hair and properly dyes it for me.
I was sat shirtless in the living room as my dad was above me applying the toner. I was fiddling with my nails as he said every curse in the book and I kept thinking of ways to find something else to talk about. Since he was currently pissed at me, there was nothing else to do but avoid the topic.
"So... the weather, it's nice isn't it?" I wanted to smack the back of my head when the words came out of my mouth, but lucky for me, my dad did that.
"It's raining. It's been raining with thunder and lightening for the past hour, how is that nice? There, it's going to dry for another 40 minutes, go to the store and get me some stuff so I can make your ass some dinner." Even when he tried to mad with me, I know he can't stay upset for too long.
"Yeah, give me a second," I said running to my room and throwing a shirt on before getting a list of stuff to get at the grocery store and of course another smack to the back of my head.
"Where the fuck is sugar? Demerara Sugar....what even is that." I was currently walking through the aisles of the different types of sugars and couldn't find the one my dad needed.
Knowing he wouldn't want me to get a different kind, I scan the sections slowly and carefully. Up ahead, I finally see the fucking sugar; the last one! I jog up to it until I get closer and it's higher than I thought it was.
"Goddamn it!" I curse aloud. I reach my arm up and try to get the Demerara Sugar but I can't reach it. I get on my tippy toes and lean toward, my fingertips grazing the sugar.
"Shit," I whisper when I grab the sugar but suddenly feel my body weight falling backward.
Strong arms were suddenly around my waist and I could feel someone's chest pressed up against my back, my much smaller back.
"I'm so sorry." I tried to apologize to the person.
Suddenly I was being turned around and faced my savior. Sadly, it wasn't Jesus Christ. Instead, it was a hot guy, I mean like really hot, sorry Jesus.
"Beautiful." He has a lingering Russian accent, he had a broad yet sharp face with a sharp jawline. He was perfect, how the fuck can someone be so perfect? He brushed his finger along my cheekbone and stroked it roughly. He looked extremely familiar.
"I'm a-a man, I'm not beautiful." I tried to say but the words stuttered out of my mouth. He walked away with a scoff and lifted his right arm 90 degrees waving me off. Another man walked beside him and he said something inaudible to the other man, making him turn around and smirk at me.
"Well then," I say straightening my shirt and picking up the sugar from the floor. That was fucking weird.
I purchased the sugar and the other items my dad needed before leaving the store and driving back home in time to wash my hair. The dye had dried during my trip to the store and you could see the color changing on my hair.
"Go ahead and wash up. Dinner will be ready in 30 minutes." My dad told me as he started whisking and mixing things in a bowl.
After dinner, I decided to go to my room and on my bed, my laptop on my lap. I was checking my email and texting my best friends, Melanie and Zack, about hanging out when I saw an acceptance letter for the position of computer science analyst at the Ivanov Company.
"Oh thank god," I said aloud to no one in particular. I could hear the tapping of my dog's paws on the floor before she started scratching on the door so I let her in.
To: MStevenson@gmail.com
From: IvanovCorporations@mail.gov.com
Dear Mr. Stevenson,
I want to take the time and personally thank you for applying for this position. I am glad to announce to you that you've been accepted for the position of CSA (Computer Science Analysts). Please email me for confirmation that you'd like to continue with the Interview Phase (2),
Thank you and have a great evening,
Mr. Ivanov (Иванов)
IvanovCorporations@mail.gov.com
"Look at that Pom Pom! I've done it, baby!" I told my little Pomeranian. She looked at me confused as ever but I still kissed her little nose. Putting her back down, I quickly typed my response and he sent back a quick email about the interview, I gasped when I read it for the fourth time... it wasn't what he said really, it was his profile icon on the email.
Re: MStevenson@gmail.com
From: IvanovCorporations@mail.gov.com
See you, Monday 8 am no earlier; no later, Beautiful.
Mr. Ivanov (Иванов)
IvanovCorporations@mail.gov.com
It was fucking Mr. Grocery Man.
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YOU ARE READING
Property Of a Millionaire
General Fiction"I like to pull on your hair, see you struggle to breathe, watch you reach your climax and then stop you from reaching your high." He said all of that without stopping and that made me shake in my fucking boots. "I-I, no?" I wasn't sure what to say...
