Violet Rose,
the definition of perfect as she grew up in a family with fame obsessed parents. Never has it been easy for her, publishing her own first book at seventeen, her parents wanting her to get married at twenty three.
But what if there's a m...
Chapter 4 and I must say I really like this chapter. If you like it as well all I am asking you to do is comment and vote, I'd be more than grateful. I hope you have lots of fun reading and some feedback would be great. Alright then, I love and appreciate you and remember this account is a save space for everyone.
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Logan Reat:
This bitch.
It's been three hours and I haven't let Violet out of my eyesight for one second. She's been dancing, drinking, hell I even almost lost her to some guy kidnapping her.
He's unconscious now but-
I didn't come here to babysit. I mean yeah, to babysit the boys but not some random girl I met six hours ago.
It's almost four in the morning and she's laying there almost passed out on the table.
"Violet we have to-" "Five more minutes, dickhead." she cuts me off by raising only her hand and this is where I draw the line.
I grab her by her thighs and simply throw her over my shoulder as she lets out a squeal along with a quiet giggle. She thinks this is funny.
"You have a nice ass." I hear her mutter while I'm walking towards my car, with her still hanging over my shoulder. That sounds so weird.
"Even nicer than mine, dammit." I almost chuckle knowing she's talking to herself right now.
I mean I guess it's cute.
I unlock my car and open the passenger door before setting her down and helping her get in. I close the door and walk over to the driver seat and climbing in myself.
I buckle myself up and hear someone yawn next to me. For fucks sake why didn't she put her seat belt on already?
"Put you're seat belt on Violet." I mutter starting the car to warm up. It's fucking freezing outside.
"What? Where?" she snaps her eyes open, making me roll my eyes.
I sigh leaning over, to grab the seat belt as she freezes. I don't want to make her uncomfortable but I have to put her safety first.
I feel her hot breath, which smells like alcohol, on my cheek as I pull the seat belt over her body, our eyes meeting and only now I realize how close our faces actually are.
A rich bitch.
I buckle her in before pulling away and stepping on the gas pedal to drive us home.
"My head hurts." she whines as I grab the gear shift, controlling the steering wheel with the palm of my left hand.
I tense when I feel some fingers trace something on my arm but relax when it's only the drunk author next to me. "I like your veins." she murmurs tracing them, one by one.
