Chapter 5
RYAIRE RILEY
"I don't know." Catching the hint that I did not want to talk she rolled her eyes and stopped talking. I didn't care. As long as she got us safely to Wendy's I did not care if she flipped me the bird. I didn't realize that we were that close too Wendy's until she suddenly pulled her shiny black Impala in to the parking lot. She parked the car before turning it off. We walked into the establishment and the scent of food immediately filled my nostrils.
I ordered my meal quickly before grabbing my cup from the lady and walking to the drink machine. I filled the cup with iced coke before turning around. I was looking down at my shoes before I began to walk. I bumped into something rock hard making my cup full of coke smash onto me in the process. I did nothing but grit my teeth and look up at the unamused man in front of me. I could totally bash his head into the wall right now for messing up my shirt.
"You should watch where your going next time." He said sternly, a hard glare on his face that did nothing to me. "Well, maybe I wouldn't have to if you weren't so close to be you bastard!" I said to the fine piece of specimen in front of me. There was no denying that this man was fine.
He was a perfect brown coconut color. His eyes were hazel but hard. They were turning dark by the second. His body was solid and could easily tell that he worked out. I have never ever in my life called any man fine. But I guess there is a first time for everything.
I wouldn't mind this being the first time slapping the glare off of his face though. "Gyal ya mowley!" He said. Dang, this man has a Jamaican accent that overpowers his normal voice when he is angry. Well that makes two of us because I have just a little Latina in me. "Usted die bastardo enojado!" I said angrily. His eyes flickered as if he didn't understand.
I stormed off angrily completely forgetting about my drink. I cannot believe that I allowed myself to get all worked up over a Jamaican. I heard him mumble something behind me. "Callate estupido idioto!" I yelled. I followed Kira who had our food to her car. I opened the car door and got in fuming. Never have I let myself get worked up over a non factor. What is going on with me?
YOU ARE READING
Broken with a Millionaire
RomanceKyree Cash is a twenty-six year old, cold hearted man who would swoon over nothing but his money. He grew up, showered in money, he breathed money, he was the symbol of money. The twenty six year old wanted nothing but to be an artist. He would pa...
