Interlocked fingers

Chapter 2

It was my first time meeting him, today, a month before our wedding, in a small cafe on the upper east side. I was frantic. Running around my not very modest apartment. I had seen pictures of the infamous playboy. Ive heard rumors of his conquests and a list of his lovers. I had read about his lavish lifestyle. I had seen reports that he was engaged but that wasn't as important as seeing him leave a jet with 2 supermodels that were dressed like queens.

Our wedding is supposed to be 'the' party of the year, knocking out all the puny obnoxious socialites who wouldnt live up to our standards( what my dad would always say).

I ran from my bedroom to grab my make up case to the bathroom to the kitchen back to the bedroom. Everything had to be perfect. My dad wanted this deal so badly and i wont mind saying he's not half bad.

I had 20 minutes till we were supposed to meet but I wanted to be fashionably late, like you know, making it seem like I was super busy and that THIS WASENT HALF AS IMPORTANT AS IT REALLY IS. Woah Im freaking out. Deep breathes in and out. I grabbed my purse and left.

15 minutes. 14. 13. I was just waiting in the lobby of my building since the cafe was across the street. I was waiting until I saw him pull up but no hot guys around. I was getting worried, photoshop is verrryyyy good nowadays.

5 minutes.4. 3 and a hal-

"Are you waiting for someone, Miss?" The bellboy asked.

"Um no its actually vice versa"

"Ok ma'am" he said sarcastically.

I outta hit you right- calm thoughts.

Ok he was offically late and so was I. Ugh. -7 minutes. -10 minutes. Ok I cant wait this long.

Finally. Thank the good lord. Praise hallelujah he showed up. Late but from far away, very fashionably late. I knew it was him by his car, a new Mercedes. He must think I'm totally rude and inconsiderate . Ugh i hurried across the street in my new louboutins just for this meeting.

I reached the cafe in record time and I saw him. Chiseled features, kissable jawline, a small stubble and grayish eyes. His shirt looked like it was going to explode from the muscles and I swooned inside. I opened the door as sexy as possible while still trying to push the heavy metal door. I probably looked like an idiot. He saw me , I saw him. I felt something, and he turned away.

I didnt offically know it was him but god I hoped it was. I pretended to look around, gazing to make it seem like hadnt stalked him. Ha who wouldnt?

He looked at me lazily and motioned his fingers into a "come here" signal. I strutted myself to the table.

"Are you na-" he cut me off.

"Yes and you are Sophia. Lets get one thing straight. I dont want to marry you. I dont care for you and I never will. Keep your life seperate and very far from mine. We meet this Friday at your house for our wedding registry so reporters can see us. No other time for no other reason." I was stunned.... by his glorious husky voice. And also by what he said.

"You think I want to marry you? Try again" I was proud. for a second..

"I guess the feeling is mutal. Also next time, cover your cleavage. I dont need my wife looking like I bought her from the dollar store."

"Well I dont need my husband being a manwhore but I guess things happen" i said snarkly and he stared at me, looked me up and down and muttered "Fair enough" smirked and left.

That jerl. That dimwit. That arogant fool. Was I an idiot? What have I gotten myself into?

I left the cafe in a flash after the debacle. I stopped at hermé, givenchy and chanel for some therapy and much needed time alone. Another jumbo flap chanel bag would just have to do for my broken engagement.

How could he say such harsh words? Another hermés scarf. What am I, just a condition that he has to deal with? A new Balmain skirt would have to suffice for losing the one thing I've always wanted, love and a tiffany and co diamond set.

When I got home there was a missed call on the machine. I pressed play and goodddd the voice. Low and mysterious. I didnt even listen to what it said and had to play it again. and again. and again.

"Hello, It is my unforntuante pleasure to say that I, the manwhore, will be accompanying you to a gala this Saturday. Dress well. Dress covered. I will pick you up at 6. We will go to dinner and then the event. Bye" The last word was so short and to the point it sounded like he wouldve even said bye to a dog nicer.
Today was Wednsday. Two more days of freedom until the clutches of marriage will start to shred my independence.