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...
THANK YOU FOR 1M! OH MY! I don't even know what to say, I'm so happy to see such a big number, I can barely believe it. Thank you so much for your patience, for the precious time you spend reading this book. Thank you, a million times thank you. 🤍
I'm also very sorry for being inactive and not replying to you, I'm still busy with exams and you're actually lucky I found the inspiration to write this chapter in 2 nights instead of sleeping. Productivity.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Pancakes for the prettiest, smartest angel in the world?" Dad asked with a wide smile, placing a steaming plate of blueberry pancakes in front of me.
I inhaled deeply and allowed the sweet smell to fill my nostrils, my stomach grumbling loudly in response. I then cracked an amused smirk, one brow raising simultaneously, and looked up into my father's azure irises. "What's up with the flattery? I'm getting flashbacks from when I was younger and I used to ask you for money." I commented with a short giggle, picking up my fork and knife and digging in. Not only was I rightfully hungry after not eating for at least 10 hours, but the previous night's special activities had exponentially increased my appetite. Flashes of that hushed, forbidden FaceTime call appeared in my head when I closed my eyes to better savor my breakfast, causing a rush of liquid heat right between my legs. Shit.
He snorted, sitting at the head of the outdoor glass table. "Well, I'm definitely not going to ask you for money. I just want to know if you enjoyed yourself last night."
After a brief— yet very intense, moment of panic in which my heart sank, I realized that he wasn't talking about what I'd done in my bed last night, but about our dinner with Nora. "Yeah, it was nice." I replied sincerely, trying my best to take my mind off Lorenzo's low voice ordering me to show him my bare body, heavy breaths accompanying his speech.
"And what about Nora?" He asked curiously, interrupting my inappropriate reverie.
"What about her?"
The birds' chirping noises grew louder.
I raised one shoulder in a half-shrug and exhaled. "She's... Okay, I guess. Victoria was okay, too, but turns out that she was just hiding her immense hatred towards me." I spat out in disdain, pushing a big chunk of pancakes in my mouth.
Dad sighed deeply. "She wasn't really keeping it hidden... She always asked whether you were going to go away for college, or trying to suggest that it would be better for you—" He said distastefully, air quoting her. "to move out and go live on your own. She always made it look like she was only interested in your well-being, but now I know better. Remember when you heard us arguing on that Saturday morning, back in November? It was about you."
