Smitten Kitten

chapter three

     MARK TOTALLY TOLD Nat.

     As predicted, she is not taking it well.

     "Vika! Stop yawning! Mark's mom keeps looking over here!" Natalya chastises me in a harsh whisper, green eyes shooting daggers in my direction. Her hands are balled into fists on her lap, French tipped nails digging into her palms, and her glossy lips are pressed into a thin, no-nonsense line.

     I cock an eyebrow, leaning back in my seat. "Is it a crime to yawn now, officer?"

     The blonde girl pins me down with another murderous glare, communicating many a graphic threat on a non-verbal level. Her eyes carefully slide to the other side of the room, over to Mark's family- a litany of polo shirts, pearl necklaces, and roars of pretentious laughter. In the middle of it all is a woman who keeps throwing sharp stares in Nat's direction, artificially plumped lips pursed. I can't tell if it's intentional or just too much Botox.

     I still don't understand how Mark keeps his Cocker Spaniel-like charm when everyone who genetically and circumstantially surrounds him are the most insufferable people. Other than Nat and I, of course.

     Although, I'm not sure Nat would currently exempt me from that group.

     "You watched a horror movie again yesterday, didn't you?" Her eyes narrow, and with a twinge of guilt I immediately start looking everywhere else but her face. She directs a quick kick under the table in my direction. "You know you can't sleep after watching them and you knew you had this today!"

     I hiss, crouching over to protectively rub the inevitably forming bruise on my shin. "Oh, what, so rich people don't yawn now? You lose that capability when you think that paying fifty bucks for a couple leaves of lettuce is actually a good deal?"

     "I'm going to murder you."

     A cheeky smile touches my mouth. "In front of Mark's mom? What if you get blood on her ridiculous fur shawl?"

     A look of horror passes over Nat's face as she pictures it.

     This refers to what Mark and his family refer to as brunch, but I, who only woke up an hour before, am firmly calling breakfast. Nat had practically knocked the door off its hinges this morning, forcefully dragging me from the warm comforts of my blankets to the cruel, unforgiving, and most dreadfully cold floorboards. I barely had a grasp on reality before she was pushing me out the door, panic-stricken muttering about how Mark's mother hated people who are late.

     She did not laugh when I said that Mark's mom hated pretty much anyone that didn't have a brick of solid gold shoved up their ass.

     Despite the homicidal glares she's shooting me, we both know having a half-asleep Vika is better than having no Vika at all. When entering shark-infested waters, that is, brunch with the Vanderbilt family, there's strength in numbers.

     Nat sighs, rubbing her temples with a tired look in her eyes. "Can you at least make nice with Noel? Mark's mom literally thinks he's the second coming, and my maid of honour trying to scam him of ten thousand dollars is not helping my case."

     I roll my eyes. "One, I love Mark, but does he really need to tell his mom everything? Two, I did not scam him. I don't know why everyone keeps on making it seem like I did."

     Nat arches a manicured brow at me. "Oh yeah, and what do you call tricking someone into giving you thousands of dollars then?"

     "Is it my fault that he just barges into people's apartments and throws money at them? No, I think that's more his problem than mine. Everyone's criticism is a little unjustified here." I raise my brows, toying with the poor excuse of a salad that I paid way too much for.