To get through a heartache after the sudden breakup, Arabella moves to New York City to start another chapter of her life.
Driven by the hope to make Adrian Castle, the man who left her broken to pieces with an excuse of protecting her against his w...
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The apartment looks awesome. It's a very decent place to live. Fancy even. It has three bedrooms, just like the little flat we had back in Summerlin, the one we lived in before I came into contact with the handsome devil who snatched my joy, leaving me with more thirst for pleasure, and hunger for new excitement in my deadened life.
I fucking hate him. Yet all I desperately long for is him.
In the living room, there's abundant sunlight filtered through the large Industrial windows. The tall walls made of rough red bricks, paired with white stucco plaster on some parts, make it look bigger and evenly spacious. I love every detail of the interiors, especially the newly refurbished kitchen with so much space for new kitchen utensils and amenities.
"What do you think, pumpkin?" I ask Isla; she literary jumped when she saw her supposed bedroom, a cheeky space built in the attic.
"I like it! Are we going to live here, Ara?" She gazes upon me with hope, and I sigh, still considering. "And there's a park there! I can go play with Thor and Loki," she adds, her voice rife with elation.
Yes, there's what they call Central Park, and we can see it from up here. I think I'm okay with the apartment, but I know it's Camila's, and she's only doing me a favor by renting it at the price of peanut if I consider the market value. I only hope Adrian isn't involved in this settlement because I want no more charity from him. In fact, I wish I could return every single dollar he used on me.
But I can't. No, I won't. I've earned it fair and square through my broken heart and I'm here to give him the taste of his own medicine.
Still, I wish this is just between Camilla and me. Having Adrian Castle interfere in every step I take makes me equally the gold-digger Richard's mom said I am. Not that I care about her opinion of me or anyone else's for that matter. After all, no one knows my story better than I do.
"Have you made up your mind?" I hear Camila's voice as she clatters through the sturdy metal staircase elevated toward the upper floor.
She's been on the phone for a while now, and I'm sure it was with Adrian.
Throwing one more glance at the kitchen, I finally say, "I love it. But where will you live if you're renting the whole second floor?"
The click of high heels pauses when she reaches the rough wooden floor, two or three feet away from me. "Well, I'm not the kind to stay at home for even a week, and I think it's a waste letting the place remain vacant. I'll keep the room downstairs and you take the second floor just as we agreed. I don't cook... like at all... so the kitchen is all yours and so are every other part of the apartment, the library included."
"In other words, you don't want to live alone and you thought we could help you with that?" I probe, my head tilted slightly in her direction as I fold my arms loosely against my chest.
Isla is on the window-installed bench, lost in the view of the famous Central Park like a bird watcher in the country field.
Camilla breaks into laughter, her little secret no longer a secret. She's striding over as she says, "Yeah, you got me. I've been living alone for two years now and I'm fed up. I had a feeling we could get along as seasonal roomies, and there's no one else I'd trust with my place other than you. I was gonna sell it but I changed my mind."
