A Criminal Kiss [Max Verstappen]

chapter one

I have never kissed a man before; and I am starting to think I never will.

All I have ever wanted in my very boring life is to find a man that makes me want to live, and it is not about a life-or-death connection, but a profound stirring within, an elusive something that makes my soul ache for more. To have him near me will light a fire in my soul.

A burning desire.

My father would always describe his love for my mother in a similar way; that to love someone is to have them make the world stop for just a moment. Nothing matters but them.

And although it may sound foolish, that is all I have ever wanted - to find a love like my parents.

Pure, genuine love.

However, with the way Lord Tompkins is going on, I doubt I will ever find a suitor that will not bore me to death. He has been going on about the same topic for the past half hour. Hunting. Something that I have absolutely no interest in, but he seems to have an unfathomable love for the sport.

But, in order to find my one true love, I must obviously explore my options. All of them so far have been, well, less than tolerable, let us say.

Gentleman after gentleman, they all do the exact same thing. They come to the door in a fancy suit, flowers in hand. Knock once or twice then take a rather large step back from the door as if it may unattached itself from the frame and come toppling on top of them. Awkwardly greet the maid that opens the door from them, and then confusedly follow her as she guides them up to the drawing room. Hesitantly, yet very formally greet my father, scared he may lash out at any second. Sit down on the couch across from me after giving me the bunch of flowers. Make small talk, then talk, and talk, and talk.

I do not even remember one man that has asked of my interests, they only talk about themselves. Much like Lord Tompkins is doing right this very second.

This morning, my beloved sister has decided to grace me and father with her presence as she joins us in the drawing room with the first suitor of the day.

And funnily, she is very clearly bored out of her mind, as she sits next to me, tapping her leg rather annoyingly and continuously sighing, loudly.

"God, will he ever stop talking?" my sister leans in, her voice a hushed whisper that catches me off guard.

"Clara!" I whisper-shout, nearly spilling my tea in the process.

As much as I love her, she has no manners, no social etiquette, and certainly no perception of society as a whole. She would much rather spend her time outside playing in the palace gardens, or perhaps drawing in the greenhouse.

But, she is only sixteen so father is not overly strict on what she does in her spare time, as long as no boys are involved, he is fairly content with her frolicking.

But me on the other hand - as the dukes daughter, set out to be the next duchess, he is much less lenient with what I do. And as of late, his main priority has been finding me a husband.

But I will not just settle for any man, which is making the task more difficult than first anticipated.

"Oh, sorry, was I rambling?" Lord Tompkins high pitched voices asks to no one in particular.

"Yes," Clara says under her breath.

As much as I want to agree with Clara, I simply cannot. My mother raised me to have the upmost respect and manners for all men, and everyone for that matter.

And on the contrary, Clara did not have that luxury, as our mother did not make it to her first birthday. Unfortunately, childbirth was far too much for her to handle. My little sister has had no one to teach her the rights and wrongs of society, so she does not bother to worry about them.

"No of course not, please continue."

Please do not.

"Actually, you should probably get going Sir," my father's deep voice says right before the next conversation begins.

"Oh, yes of course Your Grace."

God, his voice is annoying.

"Thank you for your time, Annalise." The Lord tells me.

Expressing his gratitude, he rises, gently kissing my gloved hand. I respond with a polite smile as he retreats, the grand doors closing behind him.

"Ann, sweetheart, what did you think of him?" my father inquires, a sliver of hope in his voice.

"Well..."

"Oh my goodness, that was the most boring man I have ever encountered! You might as well marry that painting!" Clara interjects, laughter echoing through the room as she points randomly to a painting on the wall.

"Clara! You cannot speak of him that way; he was nice," I chide.

"Romeo, oh Romeo, where art thou, dear, beloved, handsome Romeo!" she mocks dramatically from the couch.

"That's not even how it goes," I retort, throwing a pillow her way.

"Ow!"

"You cannot reject every man that offers to court you, dear; there will be none left," my father intervenes.

"But I must find my true love, father, just like you and mother," I protest, met with a heavy sigh as he looks into my eyes, as if he was searching for something.

After a moment of silence he speaks, "You look so much like her," he says softly, and in an instant, the entire mood undergoes a profound shift.

You see, countless people have remarked on the uncanny resemblance between my mother and me. We share the same dusty blonde hair and deep green eyes that were once hers. Clara, on the other hand, takes after our father—dark, hazel hair, and bright blue eyes.

I do not know what to say, because even if our mother died sixteen years ago, it is still like an open wound for my father. He loved her more than anything, I cannot even imagine how much her misses her. With the way he talks about their love, I can only wish for something so magnificent.

But of course, it did not last.

Nothing ever seems to.

Time ensures that.

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1068 words