❝how would you feel if i told you i loved you? it's just something that i wanna do❞
When Violetta's parents' business starts to go down the drain, she's the only one that can help it. So she made a deal with the devil, and his father. She's thrown i...
// For @SarahPortlockAuthorfor always voting and comment being an A+++ writer //
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Two Months Until Wedding
You'd think after that big revelation we would be somewhat closer and stop arguing as much. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
Two weeks later we were still arguing just as much. If not more. I couldn't help it, Diego was such a moron. And how could I not shout at him -and maybe hit his —hard— chest- when he pretty much went out every night.
You have no idea how much it annoys me hearing him call the endless ladies' numbers he has on his phone. Baby this. Baby that. Can't wait. Like are you serious? So it's not exactly like I hated him for no reason.
I had just sat down on the couch and switched on the TV when Diego came down. He was dressed surprisingly fancy for a normal Saturday night-in.
"Get up. Get dressed. We're going to Marco's parents. I chose some clothes for you two wear," Diego commands.
"You went into my room. You went into my closet. And you chose clothes for me?" I ask my voice gradually raising.
"This is Marco's parents we're talking about. They are practically my parents," Diego protests.
I glare at him flinging the blanket off me. I trudge to my room and see a set of clothes set neatly on the foot of my bed. I pick it up and examine it. Must have been part of the clothes that he bought me.
I swear his life motto is If You Have The Money - Buy EVERYTHING.
That idiot. I get he had the money but I hated when he spent it on me. I check the price tag and my eyes widen.
450?
That was probably worth two thirds of my shoes!
But it was a beautiful shirt. A red jersey with a fringed hem, a cream jersey to go over it, black jeans and being the obsessive guy he is he picked out shoes, black combat boots.
I change quickly and brush my hair. Everything probably came to over two thousand peso. I felt overdressed, he spent way too much money on me. I walk downstairs and Diego was on his phone.
"I can buy my own clothes, and pick my own clothes," I comment and he looks up from his phone. He looks over me -I don't know why, he chose everything- before nodding slightly.
"I have the money, let me use it," Diego shrugs.
I still found it unbelievable that he earned one hundred thousand dollars an hour. An hour? And I used to work as a waitress. I may as well have been living on the streets in tattered rags compared to him.
