The King and Queen of New York City were pre-destined.
They were never meant to be.
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Ella Ashleigh was Queen. She was somewhat used to the luxury where everything fell in her favour. One who was never jealous, threatened, nor insecure, suddenly d...
"YOU'RE STILL HERE," Ella stated, slightly disappointed that her parents were still home.
She would've been glad that they were home after passing the two-week mark, as they usually would have left overseas by now, but she and her father weren't on the best of terms.
Her mother took a sip of her coffee. "Where else would we be? This is our home, Ella."
"I just thought you two would have left by now,"
"Ella," her mother sighed. Placing her cup of coffee down, she stared sorrowfully at Ella. "I know we're never home often, but your father suggested we should stop travelling for a while. Until you get back on track,"
"Me?" she asked passively, hiding her shock.
"Your father thinks we should stay home and keep an eye on you. It's my fault for travelling so often, taking cases thinking other people need my help more. I put my own daughter last and I'm sorry."
Ella stared at her mother blankly. She was aware that her parents travelled a lot. Her mother was an international immigrant lawyer, fighting for individuals' rights who were wrongly abused by the higher government. Ella understood her job and didn't take it to heart.
She knew she was more privileged than others, and with the privilege came absent parents.
"It's ok. I don't need you."
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Ella was awoken by the noise of pebbles thrown at her balcony door. She immediately checked the time and assumed it was Christian coming in to be fixed late at night.
This boy. She huffed. Always two o'clock in the morning.
She put on a cardigan over her coordinating shorts and tank top sleepwear, her pink fluffy house heels and headed downstairs. Careful not to wake her parents up now that they were home, she tippy-toed down the stairs so that her heels didn't click against the marble floor.
After disabling the security alarm, Ella opened the front door and was greeted by a black silhouette in a hoodie.
Gasp— That is not Christian.
Ella immediately took a step back on instinct and the male removed his hoodie. She recognised him to be the male she met back at the arena.
"Psst, it's me." He whispered loudly.
She had so many questions: How did he know where she lived? How did he know that was her bedroom she was throwing pebbles at? Why was he here out of all people?
Yet, she wasn't a curious-by-nature person to have the need to know the answers. They were merely just questions she thought of.
"Satan, yes?"
He nodded quickly and flapped his hands around. "We gotta go now, like olé."
Ella crossed her arms. Spanish wasn't her first language but she was fluent, and she knew he didn't just call for her as if she was a raging bull. "Go where?"
