𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 | ✓

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩 𝟔

As I lean against the kitchen bench, I press my thumb against the bridge of my nose. This wasn't supposed to happen; I wasn't supposed to become vulnerable for a woman. This is getting ridiculous.

I can't stop thinking about her. In fact, it keeps me awake at night, and when I wake up in the morning, I'm still thinking about her. I'm worried things are starting to spiral out of control a little bit.

"So, what do you think of her, son?" my father questions as he walks into the kitchen, his sudden voice shakes me out of my thoughts.

I lifted my attention towards him just as he began to pour himself a glass of bourbon. I glance at him with a hint of annoyance. "She'll do, I suppose," I muttered, not wanting to delve into the details of my thoughts with him. He looked at him with a piercing look and spoke with a hint of accusation, "You like her, don't you?"

My abrupt scoff served as a response indicating that I disagree. I don't think the words "like," "love," "lust," or even "obsessed" adequately describes how I feel about her. Though, I'm not about to admit that to my own father, or to anyone else for that matter.

I find that thinking about her all the time makes me irritable, and as a result, I find myself tugging at my tie in an effort to undo its hold on my neck. I run my hand through my hair and releasing a deep sigh. I come to the conclusion that I should go to bed, before I drive myself even farther insane by thinking about her. I swear, she's dangerous.

"Goodnight, Father," I murmur over my shoulder as I leave the kitchen and make my way up the stairs. But as I near the top, a portrait of my mother, who died when I was a child, catches my sight on the wall to my left.

And I suddenly remember what Vivienne had said earlier at dinner, about my 'mother not teaching me how to treat women'. And while It was a harsh statement, it was one that I couldn't deny.

With the passing of my mother, my life took a drastic turn. I was left without much parental guidance, and my father, now a widower, seemed to have lost himself in his work and the bottle. His days were consumed by business dealings and his nights by the numbing effects of alcohol. I found myself feeling alone and neglected, with no place in his life and as a result, a variety of things happened to me that I'll never be able to recover from.

It wasn't until he realised how valuable I could be to the business that he took an interest in me, and while I've never been particularly fond of the business, money is something I enjoy. I'm already halfway to being a billionaire, even if it means marrying some random girl among my father's business associates. Girls were only ever money signs to me, or so I thought.

I find myself staring at the portrait, before finally coming back to reality and eventually making it back to my bedroom.

As the steam from the shower enveloped me, I couldn't help but let my mind wander to her. With each stroke of my toothbrush, I found myself lost in thoughts of her. As I slipped into my pyjamas, my mind was yet still consumed of her. She was all I could think about.

It feels almost like a guilty pleasure and I want nothing more than to speed this wedding up and make her my wife. I don't believe I can wait any longer, it must be sooner, I can't control myself. In-fact, i'll organise it tomorrow.

It's already certain that I'll spend the rest of the night staring at the ceiling of my room and thinking about her until I ultimately fall asleep. Both her figure and her long, silky black hair that was cut off just above her hips were capable of driving a man completely wild. The porcelain-like smoothness of her skin was broken only by a sprinkling of freckles that looked as though they had been applied with meticulous precision. Her full and red lips gave off the impression that they were begging to be kissed.

I grumble and bury my face in the pillow when I find myself in the position of being vulnerable and completely in love with this girl, yet again, as if doing so will stop the thoughts and images of her from flooding my mind.

But she can't know how I feel, nobody can, not yet anyways.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───