"No." I don't understand how hard it is for people to understand that stupid two-letter word.
Jesus fucking Christ take the damn hint, a N and O together mean no, nope, nada.
"I don't have time for this Charlotte. Get in the car." My father grumbles as he types something away on his phone.
Of course, he doesn't have time for this. For me. Who the fuck even cares? I roll my eyes and cross my hands over my chest as I glare at him. "I said no. I'm not coming back."
I'd rather burn my new Saint Laurent collection than go back to California with him.
"Your luggage is already sent away and our flight is ready to go, don't make me do it the hard way girl." he sighs as he lifts his head to finally meet my eyes.
Robert Allen, my father -more of a sperm donor- was truly as ageless as the magazines portray him to be. Entering his forties he could still be passed for a model in the front page of Vogue. Sharp eyebrows, check, Five o'clock jawline, check. Muscular body, check. A six-foot frame, check. The broody asshole thing that attracts the female population, check.
But I know that beauty on the outside means nothing because deep down he's an asshole. He's a father who doesn't give a fuck about his daughter. He's a husband who cheats on his wife every single day.
Not like Mommy Dearest is any Mother Theresa.
Brown eyes similar to mine stare back at mine with a bored expression as some more cameras click behind us making me more irritated. "Can't y'all leave us alone for a fucking second?" I yell turning back at the reporters who crowded us in the span of just ten minutes after my father arrived. This is getting so damn exhausting.
I'm already known as the golden bitchy princess so why mind my language when they already made up their mind about me?
Fuck them and fuck my father.
He was the one who sent me away when all I wanted to do was stay. So why want me back now?
"Stop Charlotte." He glares at me sending a wave of dismissal to the reporters at my back. "Every one of our Allen family has graduated from Da Vinci High and you are going to do the same. You already wasted a year because of your stupid choices. Now before I blacklist your credit card, get in the car."
Stupid choices? I can't believe him.
With a huff, I turn back and walk towards the crowd where Laura wait Lilah?- whatever the fuck her name is- was holding my bag. I snatch it from her and she frowns at me as I turn back and stomp towards my father.
My five-inch heels click against the road and my lilac sundress flows above my knees as I make my way to the car. I throw my bag inside the car and get in. I slam the door extra hard as I take my seat inside.
The entire ride was silent and my heartbeat increased with every mile covered between Boston and California. My hands shook and I dug into my bag to find a metal bottle. Once I open it and take a large gulp of the liquid inside some of the tension in my body eases.
I stare out of the window as the world around me passes by. These five years away from home passed in a blur. One day I was a fourteen-year-old heartbroken girl moving to Boston with my 'friends' and the next day I was an eighteen-year-old trying to survive rehab. Nothing helped. Each day was getting harder and harder to survive and it's tough to lose the battle every fucking day.
And at the end of the day, all I've learnt was how to be strong. Alone.
I'm not exactly alone, I'm lonely.
Even with girls beside me and boys trailing behind me, I know that I am not who they want to be with. It's either my last name that impresses them or my body.
I know that I am beautiful. From my olive-toned skin, the blonde waves that fell to my mid-waist, the plump lips I've inherited from my mother to the perfect body that was better than any of my modelling 'friends'.
My perfect curves to my c-cups and my abdomen where the traces of abs are present to the dip of my hips and long toned legs.
My looks were the second most thing people noticed in me, after my last name of course.
At first, the attention was good, satisfying even but then you realise that everything that comes with the attention is nothing but fake. One minute someone compliments your outfit only to call you a slut the next.
I was only eighteen and the life was already too exhausting.
I operate on autopilot as we get on my father's private jet along with his minions trailing behind him. I don't talk to anyone as I keep to myself taking sips of alcohol that burns down my throat. It's better than whatever burn my heart is feeling anyway.
I sigh and after six hours the car stops in front of the mansion once the guard opens my door I get out throwing my bag at him and he silently follows me inside.
The front door opens revealing the polished tiles inside and a huge stairway that leads to the first floor. In the middle of the hallway, I find my mother lounging with some other women as they laugh at whatever shit they were talking about.
At the sound of my heels clicking my mother turns towards me and a smile forms on her features but disappears as her eyes travel down to my outfit.
My mommy dearest, Grace Allen who was also a splitting image of me hates when I wear something revealing -which was almost every day- so if she thinks that this low-cut sundress is bad she has no idea what's coming next.
But since there's a guest she keeps her mouth shut as she comes to hug me pausing when she smells alcohol on my breath. She wrinkles her nose in disgust and does bother to hug me, she gives me a pat on my back telling me she's happy to see me. Wish I could say the same.
I don't bother to greet her or her guest back as I go upstairs to my room. And when I open it an altogether different emotion hits me as the memories start coming back. My breath hitches as I clutch the bottle in my hand harder. After the guards place my luggage in I tried to take another sip but it was empty. Agitation crawls on my skin as I throw the bottle which lands on the soft carpet. I sink to my knees, close the door behind me and throw my head into my hands as the first tear escapes.
Home sweet home
So, how was the first chapter?
What do y'all think about Charlotte?
YOU ARE READING
Make A Wish
RomanceCharlotte Allen: Fame, Money, Power. I had it all. And unlike my other "friends" I thrived in it. Basked in the attention that came along with it. People called me an "attention seeker", a "heartless bitch" and of course the spoiled daughter of the...