𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 |𝟏𝟖+

23 || Jealousy, Jealousy

the neighbourhood - everybody's watching me

𝔚𝔚𝔚
Celina

"It's all gonna be so perfect."

I have the strongest desire to gag as the woman sighs dreamily and claps her hands together. "A May wedding in the Hamptons, what girl wouldn't want that?"

The question is rhetorical, but my glare speaks volumes.

Me.

I don't fucking want that.

But Pissy seems too lost, vicariously living her dream through me to care.

She shoves a white flower into my hair, and examines it.

I yank it out and crush it in my fist. 

In all honestly, my bitchness was never this excessive. I was usually subtle, diabolical and far too evil to resort to snobby. But I'd been woken up at the ass crack of dawn - nine a.m - by a dying hyena like voice and didn't have the time to calibrate my brain.

It would seem as though Adrik Kozlov - the man who refused to have anyone in his wing of the manor - had made an exception for Missy Mae Whatever The Fuck. And I was sure it was with the sole purpose of torturing me.

"Although it is a bit odd having to plan a wedding on such short notice." She ignores me like my antics aren't new to her and picks a pink flower, holding it a distance from my face and studying it. "I mean-nine weeks is barely enough time to plan a birthday party let alone a proper high society wedding."

Nine weeks?

I narrow my eyes. The wedding was in three weeks time, and we'd only made the arrangement just over a week ago. Meaning that Adrik Kozlov was five steps ahead in a game I hadn't even started.

She turns to her notebook move onto the next task of the day, while I'm stuck processing her words. "Wait a second, Pissy."

"Missy." She corrects.

I choose to ignore her.

"What exactly do you mean by high society?" This
marriage was to convince Silvio, not New York's most influential. But perhaps I'd been too narrow minded in my rage to see that for Adrik Kozlov it could be different.

"A high profile wedding like this has a highly exclusive guest list." She continues as though she's explaining basic arithmetic to a child. No shit. "News spreads fast here. All of Manhattan's already talking about this wedding."

I grit my teeth. If this isn't confirmation I'm steps behind, than I don't know what is.

"In all honestly it's a bit nerve racking for me." She sighs, continuing on with her monologue. "All the ladies at La Haute have got eyes on this, if I screw this up...."

I block out the rest of what she's saying and instead watch after the woman in a pink pantsuit parading around the kitchen, and realise she talks, a lot.

And the mention of the La Haute - a society of upper class women, bored to death with their lives and desperate for the validation that came with being apart of an exclusive clique, tells me she likes to gossip, a lot.