I was 18 when my father arranged a marriage with a young multibillionaire man to make peace between our families, I didn't want this.
Isaac Miller is a multimillionaire, he owns thousands of companies across the world and I'm just Claudia Richardson...
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Life isn't all that easy, I thought I was brave; I was told I was brave but I am not.
Even if I talk about how I feel, no one will care anyway. Firstly I can't tell anyone, secondly my family doesn't care!
They were the ones that did this to me and here I am, looking at the mirror with tears streaming down my face. I feel my throat, I silently scream, "everything hurts," I whisper leaning my elbows on the basin.
For no apparent reason, everything started to fall apart too quickly to fix it.
"Claudia?" Zac whispers.
"Y-yeah?" My voice cracks and I mentally curse myself, I hear him curse.
"What's wrong?" I can't believe he just asked that!
I swing open the door and he looks at me, noticing my red face and puffy eyes. His eyes soften from their hardened state and he walks into the bathroom trapping me between the basin and him, I'd rather be anywhere but here.
"What's wrong?" He repeats.
I want to shout at him, tell him that this isn't what I want. He's stupid, he should realise I'm breaking down because of him. Because of this stupid fake marriage and I hate him, I want to call everything off. I don't care if my family disowns me, I don't care what anyone thinks. Kill me! Kill them! Let this torture be over!
But instead I whisper, "nothing."
He sighs reaching up and tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, "tell me," he demands.
"I-I just stubbed my toe on the corner of the wall," I lie, he chuckles.
"Poor Claudia, are you okay though?" I nod.
"Come on, we are going to the club," he says. ~~ One thing I do not fit into his clubs, it stinks of sweat and alcohol; wait a minute... I'm 18 and have never been to a club cause all my friends are younger! So I didn't bring my ID which they didn't check and he didn't even show the bouncers iD
"How did we get in here?" I ask hoping this isn't another place he owns, it's to hard to keep track of.
"I own this place," I shrug to myself, free things!
Actually, I don't want anything here. Most likely it's spiked.
People glance at us and our joined hands, he kisses my cheek to make it more 'realistic,' then whispers, "I'm going to the bar, some of my mates are here," I nod and he walks past me.
I sigh and look around, drink? Nope. Dance? Nope. Well it's technically grinding and movements of sex so a definite no.
I see a small stage so I walk to it noticing the microphone and piano, time to show Zac my number one talent.
