Kidnapping Me

"....And we've decided to get a divorce." Julia finished, staring at her nails. Her freashly manicured nails.

I stare at her lazily, stifiling a yawn. "And?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

She can't be serious right? Does she actually think I'd be affected by her and my father getting a divorce? We're sitting at the 26 seater, oak dinner table, in the Main House of my Father's property. Well, his main property, anyway. The back houses don't belong to him, they belong to me. Seven years of birthday gifts and 'I'm sorry' presents.

Julia bit her lip, brushing her platinum blonde hair off her slender shoulder. "Well, I-I just thought you- that you'd be a little... sad." She sniffed delicatly.

"Julia." I said mono-tonely.

"Yes?" She asked, fighting back the fakest set of tears I've ever seen.

"Get out of my house." I snapped, glaring at the fake blonde. I've always wanted to do this, the bimbo deserved it.

"W-what?" She spluttered, her blue eyes going wide with disbelief.

"You heard me." I snapped, pushing back on the chair with a crafty smile on my lips. "Get. Out. Of. My. House."

Julia narrowed her eyes at me, snatching her bejewled purse from the table top. Adjusting her skimpy white summer dress, she threw her nose up in the air, marching to the door in her four-inch heels. "You know," she sniffed when she reached the door. "I loved you like a daughter." She sniffed again, putting her hand on her heart like it actually pained her to be leaving.

I blew a stray piece of black-hair from my eyes, raising my eyes in disbelief. "And I loved you like the lap dog you were." I smiled in mock sweetness at her, getting up from my spot at the table. Reaching her side, I rested my hand on her chicken arm softly, in an almost caring gesture. "Now, would you like me to walk you to your street corner, or would you be happier with a driver?"

Gaping at me, Julia turned on her heel, storming out of the room, up the hall, into the foyer and out the door. Good ridance.

I sighed, straightening the chairs, so all 26 of them were neatly in line, the two end ones, tucked neatly under the table. I straightened the flowers in the middle arrangment, caressing the soft Lily petals.

Gazing around the room, I admired the works of at hanging from  the walls that I'd seen a hundred times. Making my way around the table, I strode to the gas fire-place, switching it on. After all, it got cold in such a big house with barely anyone in it this time of year.

Now that Julia, that stupid 24 year old bimbo, was gone, I could have a few nights without twenty-something year olds partying below my bedroom.

"Excuse me, Miss Grace?"

I turned slightly, smiling at Gloria, the head-maid as she walked into the room holding a tray of cutlery and place-mats in her withered, aged hands. "Gloria." I smiled sweetly. Actually sweetly, because I ment it. Gloria was a lovely person, and I adored her. "Let me take that from you."

I reached from the tray, but she snatched it back with a smile. "Oh no, Miss. Your Father said you have to get ready." She patted my cheek softly, with a worried expression on her winkled face. "I think he's match-making you again, my dear."

I groaned. Not again. "Again? Seriously?" I smacked my fore-head with my palm, taking deep gulping breaths of sweet, sweet oxygen.

Gloria smiled sadly. "Sorry, love." She sighed as she placed the tray on the table, arching backwards until her back cracked loudly. Brushing back a greying curl, she began moving along the table, placing the knives and forks in exact order (butter knife towards the edge, knives starting from biggest to smallest going outwards, three glasses for different beverages), humming while she did so.