"Black looks good on you, Acacia"
My breath hitched as I gradually turned around only to see Damien leaning against the door, smirking at my lingerie-clad figure. His hands tucked deep inside his pockets, his shirt slightly unbuttoned. His thumb pl...
It's particularly natural for any man to be nervous a day before their marriage and so was I. I am about to get married to the 'love of my life', lemme correct, was. I was about to get married on the 27th of December to Claire Williams, my girlfriend for 4 years and now, I'm sitting here all alone, staring at my diamond engagement ring with nothing but anger and fury.
I am not the type to get angry but put yourself in my shoes and imagine your fiancè eloping with your best friend a week before your marriage leaving you a fucking note which says that sappy same old, classic "It's not you, it's me"
Like what the actual fuck? I gave her everything she asked for, money, clothes and most importantly, love. I fucking loved her. If you asked me, 6 hours ago if I loved Claire, I would have said more than anything, without hesitation.
But I have a simple rule, don't piss me off or you're fucked, bad. Surprisingly, Claire knew of it the best, yet she managed to piss me off worse than anyone before.
I could see my mom and dad pacing around the room as Christie, my sister was far too occupied crying.
If I see that fucking piece of- No, that woman again, I will ruin her fucking princessy life.
"Damien, sweetheart. We can't postpone the wedding, the media is involved" Mom whispered, her lips quivering, eyes full of tears ready to fall.
With a roll of my eyes, I grimaced "Whose bride do I elope with, Mom?" Her eyes widened as she hit my shoulder, gasping.
"Marry Ashlyn, she really likes you" She suggested and my eyes almost flew out of my socket.
"For fuc- God's sake mom, She is 35 and I don't like her" I reasoned, getting up. Bothered, I loosened my tie, picking my phone up before saying,
"I'll think of something" With that being said, I left the room and drove to my most favourite and desired place at the moment. The bar.
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I walked through the crowd, the strong scent of alcohol and sweat hung around the air, If I wasn't used to this, I would have suffocated and died.
Sauntering down, watching couples making out, the thought was just grossing the living hell out of me. I fucking hate love. Nothing but manipulation and pain.
I arrived at the bar, pushing through all the drunk men, annoyed.
There was a girl sitting at my place.. Does she even know those places are reserved? I doubt, she looked terribly wasted.
"Sir!!! I want more tequila!" She squealed, smiling foolishly before sinking in her place.
My eyebrows raised in amusement as I sat in front of her. She looked stunning aside from the fact she had been crying, it was obvious. She had long hair which currently, she was struggling with greatly. She was wearing a grey sweater on top of light-washed jeans.
