Loved_Little_Girl
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- Parts 23
"You're not a plaything." He insisted.
"Then, what am I?" I asked.
"My little girl."
My lips curled upwards at his response.
She was just eighteen, and he was thirty-five. She was a cute socialite and he was a handsome caterer. He read her like a book, and she found her defenses begin to crumble.