A/N: Chapter visuals above ⬆️
Get ready for a really stupid Prospèro...
PROSPÈRO'S POV
"So Erik owns the club?" Dantè questioned me for the hundredth time.
"How many times do I have to tell you this?!! Yes Dantè, ERIK OWNS THE FRIKKEN CLUB!!!" I yelled, pacing around my office, as he is sat quietly in his chair.
"Did you do your research? Are you sure the owner of this club is a... man?" He asked me again.
"I don't need to do research okay?!! I'm going to the club, you can come with me if you want to. I need to confront that asshole. Who does he think he is?! He was so rude to Angelica!!!" I said sternly, grabbing my car keys and heading out.
Damn, this Erik asshole has been nagging me like a stone in my shoe.
"But..." Dantè begins speaking, but I'm out the door before he could even finish.
DANTÈ'S POV
I feel like I should tell him.
Prospèro has a habit of not finding out things for himself. Once he has a little clue, he just runs with it, like a stampede of elephants.
He's a stupid elephant.
I, surprisingly, happen to be the brains of the family. I had researched the so called, 'Eden' Prospèro was babbling about earlier.
I found out; that the owner of this particular one in Sydney, is owned by a lady named Erika Rosalind Holmes.
Yes. Erika, not Erik.
Her father is a very busy man, and spends most of his time in LA, running his other clubs, therefore, only left one for Erika to manage. And from the looks of it, she's doing a damn good job.
So... let me reiterate...
I want my awesome, role-model of a big brother, Prospèro, to make a fool out of himself, once again.
Sorry Prospèro.
No, I won't be following you.
I'll be taking my time.
PROSPÈRO'S POV
The drive to this club named 'Eden' was a red blur, as my mind could only think of damn Erik hurting my Angel... Uhhh... I mean... Just Angel.
Her attitude towards me... God...
She looked miserable almost every time I've been with her.
Erik's abusive nature was the only thing that explained Angel's attitude to everything so far.
This only enraged me.
I slam the excellerator to the floor, wanting to cave Erik's head in even more.
With my Mercedes roaring into the night; what was supposed to be a 15 minute drive to the damn club, was made in 5. The thought of that disgrace of a man, Erik, potentially having his hands on Angel fueled my temper to the point I just drove to the front of the club and parked there. Exiting my car; I slam my door and fiercely move through the crowd of fans like some dark embodiment of rage, thanks to my pure black suit that I wore from lunch.
As I made my way to the front of the line, I was greeted by two unfazed bouncers blocking my way.
"You know who I am right? I need to get in there right now!!!" I spoke, my voice raising.
They looked at me like they were gonna knock me dead.
"I don't know who you are, sir." The more muscular bouncer looked down at me like I was inferior.
YOU ARE READING
The Imperfect Masterpiece
Romance"That artwork is not for sale." I say indefinitely, my arms crossing over my chest. Surprise was blatantly apparent on his chiseled face. "I'm sorry, there must be a mistake. Because, I just bought it." He said politely. "Yes, the mistake is, that...
