Scarlett 'Arranged Marriage'

Chapter31

Scarlett {an arranged marriage} Part 31: Christian will be mine!

Sira’s P.O.V.

When I woke up, I was alone in my bed. I raised my head to glance at the clock: 3:00 a.m. I groaned and rolled over. There, smack dab in the middle of my pillow, where Christian’s head had been when I’d drifted off to sleep, was a note. It was addressed to: The Love of My Life. I smiled, and flicked on the lamp next to me.

‘Dear Gorgeous,

I guess we fell asleep, huh? My dad called me into a board meeting, so I had to leave you. Just know that next time, nothing short of the end of the world will get me to leave your side. Don’t worry though, you’re not missing anything. They call them “bored” meetings for a reason, right? Ha! I love you and I hope you sleep well. I’ve got a surprise for you tomorrow. Here’s your hint: Pack a bag, we’ll be gone for a few days. I figured you’d like a few days without training, and I’d like to have a few days without any distractions. I haven’t been paying you enough attention. You’ll love it, I promise. I’ll see you tomorrow.

Your loving, devoted fiancé,

Christian’

‘We’re going on a trip?’ I thought to myself. I was suddenly excited, and I couldn’t resist hopping out of bed to start packing immediately. Unfortunately, my stomach didn’t agree with me. It gurgled loudly. I did the math. I got out of practice at noon, spent an hour and a half planning the party, went back to practice for another hour, and then went to sleep. That was… twelve and a half hours ago!

‘Wow, no wonder my stomach is angry with me,’ I thought. As I opened the door to my room, the smell of brownies wafted in and assaulted my nose. Packing could wait.

As I trudged down the stairs, the smell intensified. It was heavenly. I walked into the kitchen, expecting to see Linda working her special brand of human magic on the stove. The refrigerator door was open, and a small hand was rummaging through the contents of the fridge.

I walked up, swiped a brownie and said a quick, “Hey.” The door closed and Mikayla stared back at me with angry, vicious eyes. The cheer from the previous day was long gone. I withdrew into myself.

“Oh, hi,” she said, halfheartedly. “Hey, what are you doing up so late?” I asked, trying desperately to make conversation. “I couldn’t sleep. Decided I’d make myself some homemade brownies to snack on until I felt tired,” she replied bitterly. “Oh, um, thanks,” I said pointing to the brownie to cover up my embarrassment.

I wonder what her problem was. I highly doubt that it was because I took one of her brownies. A moment passed without either of us speaking. I felt so bad about eating one of her brownies, that it didn’t even taste good anymore. She stared at me with a growing hatred. And still the silence continued, the awkwardness increasing with every passing moment.

Finally, I gathered up enough courage to ask her directly, “Why do you hate me?” I expected her to deny it or at least list off a petty reason, but what I didn’t expect was the barrage of insults I received next.

“You’re an arrogant, self centered, conceited brat who never had to work for anything she wanted. And still you have everything, and others have nothing!! I’ll bet huge money that your first words were either, ‘Charge it,’ or ‘Daddy, can I have…?’ You make me sick!”

Now that she was finished screaming at me, she turned on her heels and stormed off, mumbling something that sounded like, “… I want…give anything…don’t deserve…guarantee… will be mine!”

‘I can not believe that wannbe poser just called me a brat!” I exclaimed to myself. I had a choice to make: I could go after her and confront her, probably causing a huge fight, or I could just be the bigger woman and let it go.

I decided to let it go. There are bigger things in this world to fight about and her attitude just isn’t one of them. I went back upstairs to pack and settled for giving her a few of my choicest swears instead.

Mikayla’s P.O.V.

I was trying to decide between brown sugar and white sugar, when the scent of that girl hit my nose. She smelled like a little kid who had just pissed his pants.

Within seconds, she had come into the kitchen, snatched one of my brownies, and said cockily, “Hey.” The nerve of that girl! I closed the refrigerator door, and restrained myself from beating her over the head with a bottle of wine I’d seen chilling in the fridge.

“Oh, hi,” I said, trying my hardest to be as rude as possible. “Hey, what are you doing up so late?” she asked relentlessly. Doesn’t she understand that she’s the last person on Earth I’d rather talk to? I felt the urge to tell her that, unlike her precious boyfriend, my kind doesn’t sleep. Instead I told her a half truth.

“I couldn’t sleep. Decided I’d make myself some homemade brownies to snack on until I felt tired.” I said this with as much venom as I could muster to show her just how much I hated her. I think she got the message, because she was suddenly very fidgety.

“Oh, um, thanks,” she stuttered stupidly, gesturing to the brownie. That made me angry. What was she thanking me for? She’s the one who waltzed in here and took it. We both stayed quiet. That was perfectly fine with me. That was, until I realized that she wasn’t going to leave. I shot her pointed glances.

Suddenly, she asked, “Why do you hate me?” ‘It’s about time she noticed,’ I thought to myself, ‘Christian didn’t exactly pick the smartest book out of the bunch, but that’s what he gets for picking out of the bargain bin. If he wanted a real woman, he should have picked me.’

I listed off random things I hated about her. I could have gone on forever, but I decided against it.

“You’re an arrogant, self centered, conceited brat who never had to work for anything she wanted. And still you have everything, and others have nothing!! I’ll bet huge money that your first words were either, ‘Charge it,’ or ‘Daddy, can I have…?’ You make me sick!” I screamed and stormed away.

When I thought that I was far enough away that she wouldn’t be able to hear me, I listed off the main reasons that she wasn’t anywhere close to being my favorite person in the world.

“I hate you because you have what I want most in the entire world, what I’d give anything for. You treat Christian like he’s your servant, but I’d treat him like the god he should be. To you he’s a pebble, but to me, he’s a rare jewel. And yet still you have him and I don’t. You don’t deserve him. I can guarantee that soon, Christian Xavier Delacorte will be mine!”

And with one last look at the wretched girl sitting in the kitchen in a stupor, I climbed into the elevator and went back to my room.