𝐹𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝐶𝑟𝑖𝑚𝑒

Million Dollar Man 23

Million Dollar Man by Lana Del Rey

The smell of expensive perfume and burning candles, older men made their way outside, holding a cigarette close to their lips, suits perfectly fitting them. Mrs. Romanov was the highlight of the night; it was her birthday.

My sister politely declined the invitation, not feeling well enough for such event. Neither was I, yet it felt better to distract myself in any possible way, as crying on the cold floor of my room, telling how unfair life was.

The Romanov house was brighter than ours. The windows were taller; walls were soft colors in contrast to our wine red or brown. The beige curtains were pushed aside, even if it's dark outside, it seemed lighter that way.

I had yet to see any of my friends, wandering through those halls, eventually staying at the balcony of the second story. An old married couple, with glasses of champagne, stood there as well, inhaling fresh night air. The emerald floor long dress fit the woman's green eyes, her husband wearing a simple black suit, like any other male here, the fabric seemed expensive even from afar.

Leaning against the white railing, I admired the yard. My hands were covered in white gloves, diamonds on my neck, shimmering due to the dull light. The red fabric almost met the floor, the dress hugging my body.

I felt someone else's presence from behind me. Not caring to turn around, from the corner of my eye I spotted another pair of hand with black gloves, two golden rings over the fabric, on the rails. Wind playing with the raven hair of the girl from beside me.

"Beautiful night," Josephine sighed.

I stayed silent, gazing in the nothing. The conversation between us was not possible. The lack of words let the girl shift on the same spot, for a moment losing her guard.

"Can we talk?" She turned to me.

"No," I said.

"I have some explanations to do," the girl muttered, looking down.

"I already know enough," I look her straight in the eyes, "you and your bloody explanations can go to hell."

"Victoria, you play smart, yet dull," she shook her head, "you think you're better than me?"

"I know that I am better than you," I nodded.

"You're far from a good person. I just thought for a second that you've changed."

"I did change, because I live. Through years' people change in need to survive. We need to get through rough live and we see different images. We admire things from another side, simply because we become mature. Some learn, some don't. The one's who don't learn, remain the same, slowly it becomes your misery. Looks like you are already there."

"I'll walk over you," she said, through greeted teeth.

"Suit yourself, but keep in mind," I walked loser to her, "you'll lose every, freaking time."

With that I left her speechless on the balcony. My heels clicked against the marbled floor, that reflected the lights of the golden chandelier, with diamonds hanging from the sides. Head high, I walked in the main room.

"Vicky," Lillian walked up to me, interviewing our arms together, "I'm glad to see you here. Stunning as always."

"Likewise," I nodded.

Both heads high, we made our way further into the room. Side by side, back straight, we sent polite nods towards familiar faces, after, putting the resting bitch face on. Her raven hair was nearly as dark as her long black dress, instead of any shiny necklaces on her neck, long silver earrings hang down, swaying in the air as she took the steps.