Camille Syanna
"Come on, Cams. Zanti is part of the audience, he's been an active bidder since the start of the auction. You're beautiful, and if you'll make yourself available for bidding, who knows? He might bid for you and win a date with you tonight."
Remind me to kill Davidson Mondragon once this hell of a date is over. Why did I let that bastard talk me into this? I know Charity Dating is never a good idea. It was cheap. It was pathetic. And now, it was a trap.
He took me in his car, opened the door, and literally shoved me in because my legs were too stubborn to move. I. Don't. Want. This.
"You seem happy," I said between my teeth.
He slid into the driver's seat, looking smug. Unlike every other guy in the event, he was nattily unkempt. In a navy oxford shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing his corded forearms. A pair of dark gray chinos and his timberlands. Douchebag.
"One of your dreams coming true? Dating me," I smiled sweetly, too sweet it might cause tooth decay. "Be grateful I'm a woman of my word, had I known Dave's a scheming bastard. I wouldn't have agreed. But alright, one night won't kill me. Besides, I'm starving. I want a Japanese sirloin steak. There's a Hide Yamamoto in City of Dreams. Take me there."
He snatched my Moschino clutch from my lap. I was about to snarl at him when he started the engine and drove off the parking lot.
"Vot eto pizdets!" I reached for the seatbelt and fastened it, then shot him a glare. "Give me back my purse!"
"Did you just curse in Russian?" His lips curved in a crooked smile.
"Don't smile at me. Give me my purse!" I repeat.
"First of all, you can't boss me around, you're in my car." He said grimly. "Second, the ball is in my court this time."
"Doesn't give you the right to steal my purse!"
"Says the girl who runs my credit card without authorization."
"Well, you deserve it! You're a jerk!" I exclaimed. I'm mad.
I hate it. I hate ZA. I hate the way I'm losing my patience with him. I'm not generally like this. I avoid getting mad because a bad mood isn't healthy for the skin. Mental, emotional, and even physical stress causes acne breakouts. I've read somewhere that some scientists believe tension induces acne, which is caused by an increase in sebum, an oily matter that is supposed to help protect the skin but easily mixes with dead cells and bacteria to clog hair follicles to create pimples. Eew.
"Saan mo ko dadalhin?" Pinilit kong kalmahin ang aking sarili, naiinis man ako, mahalaga pa rin sa akin ang ganda ko. "I need to be home before the clock ticks twelve."
"What are you, Cinderella?" He smirked, not giving a damn. Nilingon ko siya at nakatutok pa rin ang kaniyang mga mata sa daan. "And didn't you hear the second of? Ball is in my court. I get to decide what's going to happen."
"Seriously, Zayn Andrei. I need to be home by twelve. I mean, that's actually pretty late, but okay, I can make some adjustments. Though I can't go any later than that. I have my nightly rituals."
He's not hearing me, or at least he pretends not to.
"I didn't know you have a big crush on me," I teased, leaning back in my seat and looking outside the window.
