Zaran

𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉ℯ𝓇 𝒻ℴ𝓊𝓇

✾Zaran✾

"Get in the car," Lorenzo told me.

I gave a slight nod as I opened the door and settled in the front passenger seat. He got into the driver's seat and pressed the button to turn his car on. His BMW is so nice and I feel so poor.

The entire car drive was a silent, uncomfortable silence. It was awkward and we disliked each other already so it wasn't going well. We finally get there and I get out of the car, almost falling over. My legs felt so weak.

I walked closely beside Lorenzo, all of a sudden feeling an unexpected unsteadiness on my feet. I quickly reached out and grabbed hold of his suit to stop myself from falling. He gave me a look of concern as I hastily released my grasp and got back onto my feet.

"Sorry my cramps are hurting really bad," I lied, holding my hips.

"Don't fucking touch me again," he snapped, moving away from me.

Asshole alert.

We kept walking, but I could feel my legs getting weaker. I nervously grabbed onto the sleeve of my shirt and struggled to catch my breath. As we entered the bar, I quickly glanced around before making our way to an isolated corner far away from each other. Lorenzo crossed his arms and waited for me to take a seat.

"Good evening Zaran," his father politely said.

"Good evening Mr. Carter," I responded.

While Lorenzo and Mr. Carter were chatting away, I could barely focus on the conversation. Eat, eat, eat, that's the only thing on my mind.

"Well control yourself then!" Mr. Carter shouted.

"I'm the one who has a successful business, I'm a fucking millionaire and I'm trying to--"

"Oh Lorenzo nobody cares or wants to hear you say that all the time, you're getting too full of yourself," Mr. Carter scoffed.

"I worked my ass off getting myself over here. You force me to make this hotel successful! So yes, of course, I'm going to say it all the time. I didn't want to do this and I hate my fucking job!" Lorenzo yelled.

He's glaring at him and has his fist clenched together.

"Always so angry Lorenzo. Your mother would be so disappointed to see how you turn out," his father bellowed, looking at him up and down.

I was taken aback and my gaze instinctively shifted towards Lorenzo. He was gripping his glass cup so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. Deep shit is about to go down.

"Go refill me a drink," he demanded, passing me his glass.

I rolled my eyes as I walked away from Lorenzo to the bar to pour him his third glass of wine. When I returned, Lorenzo was standing in a fury, grasping tightly at his father's collar. Instinctively, I placed the glass down and took a moment to take in the situation.