In Los Angeles, there are two kinds of rich people: those who have money and those who have wealth. The difference between the two are not only visible in the cars they drive, the clothes they wear, and the houses they live in, but in the people the...
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ADRIANNA WESTWOOD HUNG UP THE PHONE and tossed the gold cased device on the purple and gold silk duvet atop of the king-sized with a deep eye roll. She stepped out of her black patent leather CHRISTIAN LOUBOUTIN Bianca Botta thigh-high boots and into her VERSACE GV Signature slides.
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"AUDREY!" She yelled loudly, leaving her room walking down the grand staircase, towards the kitchen.
Out walked a woman in her late thirties, wearing a black and white maids uniform with black shoes. "Yes, Miss Adrianna? What can I get for you?" The rich girl notices the elder woman holding her stomach. That right there makes her remember that the woman is pregnant. So she tones down the attitude.
She goes to speak but a woman resembling Adrianna, clad in a black ROBERTO CAVALLI Embroidered Giraffe Spot Shirt and tailored crystal stripe trousers with a pair of black LOUBOUTIN heels, saunters out of the office located near the dining room. That would be CAMILLE WESTWOOD, a legendary supermodel, socialite, and Adrianna's mother.
"Adrianna! Hi Honey! How long have you been home? Your father and I weren't expecting you for another day or two." Camille asks as she goes to wrap her daughter in a hug.
The younger girl looks shocked before hugging the woman back. "I was missing the city so I packed and came home." She had been in Paris, France for the entire summer, trying to clear her head as she does for every vacation period.
"Have you eaten yet?"
'I have not. I'm famished. Audrey, can you prepare that French toast I love so much?" This is referenced to the Apple Cinnamon French Toast with powdered sugar she usually eats for breakfast.
"Adrianna, isn't that too much sugar? We don't want you gaining weight." Camille says, attempting (keyword being attempting) to be soft with her words but the Westwood heiress can feel the underlying sharpness to her tone.
"Mother, please. We've talked about this. Do not body shame me. That's kind of why I left Los Angeles the moment summer vacation started." Adrianna loves her mother, loves both of her parents, but sometimes they are just too damn judgmental towards her. Can they stick to judging other people's children? Damn.
To be honest Adrianna hates it when people bring up her many flaws. It makes her feel more self-conscious than she already is. She walks away from the elder to avoid saying some disrespectful shit. There's only one person she goes to with her issues: AURORA.
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MARIO WELLINGTON WOULD RATHER BE anywhere else in Los Angeles right now than the country club. The only reason he's there is to support his mother NATALIA, as she's being honored for the coveted Woman of the Year award. Excusing himself from the table, he walks over to the bar to order another drink.
The boy looked around to see that he was being stared at...by the women in the room. Even the older women. Cougars. Then again, he didn't mind the looks. He just so happened to be wearing a $2,695 navy blue ARMANI slim fit, half canvas, super fine wool suit with a pair of navy blue GIUSEPPE ZANOTTI Edwyn loafers. Yes bitch, details of the outfit matter.
"What can I get for you, Mr, Wellington?"
"Another glass of Rosè, please." Mario may order scotch at every event he attends but he can't do that this time considering he's in the same vicinity as his mother. So he goes for his other favorite, DOM PERIGNON Oenotheque Rosè.
"Mario!"
The aforementioned boy looks around to see one of his best friends, AUTUMN WEATHERLY, fellow elite and self-proclaimed princess. He has this stupid little grin on his face. It widens when she runs into his open arms.
"Autumn, you look stunning as always." He gets a better look at her slim thick figure, clad in a Black VERSACE scoop neck fitted dress and GIUSEPPE ZANOTTI Etiole heels, the one with that big bow on the ankle.
Autumn giggles and blushes. "You're so handsome."
"Oh, you know. It's all part of the Italian charm." He has that pearly white smile on his face that's only reserved for his family and friends.
"You're only half Italian."
Mario laughs fully this time. "Do not let neither one of my parents hear you say that. They might throw hands in here." He looks around to see Natalia, clad in a black SAINT LAURENT one shoulder lace dress and some black GIUSEPPE ZANOTTI 2.0 CRUEL sandals, herding her husband, MARIO SR, clad in black TOM FORD head to toe: O'Connor Peak-Lapel suit and black velvet tassel loafers, to the bar. Thank god for chauffeurs because these two look like they had a bit too much to drink. "Oh shit, they're hammered... in the middle of the damn day. Jesus Christ."
He turns his attention far away from his parents to look at the male figure who just sauntered into the ballroom with a very provocatively dressed girl on his arm. He and Autumn look at each other with that 'holy shit' glance.
"Have you talked to Aurora? About him." Uh-oh, we know who 'him' is.
The blue-eyed male shakes his head. "Negative. I don't know if she's back from Italy. I'll ask Justin. Frankly, those two should date."
"They truly should. Those two look amazing together. And you should hug me again." Now Autumn is affectionate but when she gets anywhere near Mario, the affectionate meter goes up 100 notches. If your name isn't Mario Wellington Jr, do not give her a bear hug. You will get slapped.
Mario grips her waist, pulling her into his broad chest. "You're adorable.'
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TO BE COMPLETELY HONEST, KINGSLEY HAWTHORNE is used to girls throwing themselves at him but, this situation right here takes the damn cake. Right now he's at the Indigo Hotel in Downtown Los Angeles. This is his oasis where he goes when he needs to get away from his father's constant lectures and his mother's need to be unsurpassable (read: perfect). Anyway, he was in the middle of getting a deep tissue massage when he felt someone lay on top of him. He turned around to see some girl he's never seen a day in his damn life.
He goes to push her off but the girl won't budge. Bitch, if you don't leave him alone.
"Can somebody remove her from my presence?" Kingsley is the gregarious type. Meaning he's very sociable on a good day... but uhhhhh... today is not one of them.
"Get your fake titties, lumpy ass implants having self the fuck off my boyfriend. Can't you see he looks uncomfortable?" A sharp voice calls out.
The slightly distressed boy looks over to see his friend, AVALON HARRISON, hovering over the no boundaries having girl and a very disturbed Kingsley. It takes him a minute to register the one word that came out of her mouth, just then understanding why she said it. Avalon was saving him from this awkward situation.
"No, I'm not moving."
Girl, that was the wrong thing to say. You're in trouble now.
