Spoiler! :
A Shot of Arrogance ~ Chapter One
“I thought every girl dreamed about marriage, about huge, white dresses, horse drawn carriages and God knows what else. I honestly think there's something wrong with you, child.”
The words crashed through my head along with my mind as they left my emotions blazing. If I heard the word marriage one more time, I would scream until my lungs gave way. My eyes shot to my father as he delved his fork into a slab of beef.
“You don’t even try to listen!” I yelled. “You're acting as if this is all my fault, Dad. It’s never you who's messed up, is it?”
With a piece of meat hanging from his lips, my father dropped his fork onto his plate which created a loud clinking sound. He chewed harshly on the beef before swallowing.
“Don’t you dare speak to me like that. I’ve explained this to you a thousand times. If you don’t do this, you can kiss goodbye to pretty much everything you own right now. Do you honestly think your behaviour was acceptable yesterday? Good Lord, Victoria, you climbed down the outside of the blooming house!”
“Victoria, listen to your father.” My mother intervened with her annoyingly calm voice. Not that it surprised me; my mother hardly ever had anything to say, and if she did say something, it would only be to agree with my father.
“It’s not fair,” I muttered. “This isn’t the middle ages, Dad. Most girls my age are worrying about collage, not finding some guy to marry.”
“Don’t use words like that; you’re not American.” My father rolled his eyes before looking back up at me. “You’re making this sound much harsher than it is.”
Was he kidding? I was seventeen years old. How many girls my age got married in the twenty-first century? It was utterly barbaric. It wasn’t even as though me doing this had a connection to some form of ethnic thing, not really. My mum had Indian blood in her, and I knew that arranged marriages did happen in India, but the last person in my family to be married like that was my great grandmother. I mean, the only feature I had that hinted at my Indian heritage was my dark hair--I even had blue eyes, so it would have been impossible to guess anything about my ethnicity background by merely looking at me. Besides, my dad’s side of the family were Welsh, so that seemed to make me forget about my Indian heritage even further along with the arranged marriages. I sighed as I shook my head. What was I saying? Arranged marriages? I wasn’t being forced into this, I just... I knew I had to do it for the sake of, well, everyone.
I looked back at my dad. “What about that last man, Dad? Alexander? He looked like a pig, to begin with, and quite frankly, he was a complete nutter. Why do you think I escaped through my bathroom window?”
Speaking those words brought back the memory of Alexander and his ever so interesting facts, beginning with the extraordinary concept of socks. Why would I want to marry a man like that? A few socks and an untidy bed were hardly going to harm anyone, let alone a twenty year old man. Alexander was the third man I'd met, and out of all of the three, he was by far the worst. I shuddered at the thought of me ever being in a room with him again, let alone being married to him.
I glanced at the lump of food below me. Why was finding a half decent guy so hard? They were plastered all over films, so why couldn't I actually meet one in real life? I hated to admit something so selfish, but I was beginning to feel sorry for myself.
Shaking his head, my father completely ignored what I’d previously said. Instead, he continued with his rant as my mother nodded along with him. “Do you want your cousin to inherit everything, Victoria?” he said before wiping his mouth with a napkin.
“No... I just...” I rubbed my temples. “I’m not ready.”
My father simply sighed and ignored what I said. Gritting his teeth, he ran his hand through his light hair. He knew that I didn’t want this, and I knew that I didn’t need to tell him that I wasn’t ready for marriage. He was too obsessed with keeping all of his darn money to care about what I wanted.
“You’re so ungrateful,” my father mumbled, standing up and leaving his unfinished plate of food on the table. “You don’t understand.”
I noticed my mother glance at me from across the table. She shook her head as I tried to open my mouth. “Leave it, Victoria,” she mouthed.
I leaned back in my chair and blinked. I didn't want to anger my father even further. Obeying my mother, who I honestly knew was right, I decided against fighting back. Instead, I chewed on my bottom lip and glared at my own food. I almost envied my mother because she could do something I never could. She could sit in the background and allow everything to play out without getting the slightest bit angry.
Still mumbling to himself, my father opened the fridge and brought out some bottled water. He poured the clear liquid down his throat before wiping his mouth, and then eventually sat back down at the wooden table. Silence took over after that. There was the odd grumble by my father and the sound of clattering cutlery every few minutes, but it certainly didn't make the atmosphere of the room any more comfortable. With my food more or less untouched, I excused myself from the table as the remedy of relief spread through my body.
Before I had a chance to escape the room, my father’s voice caused me to turn back around. He was leaning against the kitchen counter.
“You’re mother and I are going to pick up my suit for my meeting tomorrow in a minute,” he said. “Ella will be here soon, so if you need anything, just let her know.”
I nodded, trying to suppress any anger that was bubbling up inside of me. Once again, I could feel my mother’s eyes on me, helping me to remain calm.
“I thought you said we were going to find a dress for me to wear to my friend’s fortieth?” she suddenly asked.
“The suit’s more important,” my father replied. “Wear one of your old ones or something.”
What he meant was, we can’t afford it, so no. I’d love to have seen him say that out loud. There was a time when he would describe to me how I'd inherit and own all of the family's nightclubs. He was sure that I'd do a wonderful job at doing so too. He thought that all of the youngsters of the modern day spent half of their time in nightclubs, despite the fact I'd only ever been to one in my life, and that was a ghastly experience--it was one of my family's clubs, so if I found that cramped and the music in there ear shattering, then any other nightclub would have probably been even worse. I shook my head as I left the room
“Stupid parents,” I muttered to myself, running up the stairs. “They need to give it a rest already.” I opened my bedroom door. “If they’re that bothered about it, then why didn’t they just have another child before me? There we go, problem solved."
I let out one last groan as I shut the door behind me. The house was silent. As I made my way towards my perfectly made bed, I could hear the sound of a car's engine outside. My parents had left then. It wouldn't be long until Ella got here, so I wouldn't have to wait long until I'd be able to eat something I actually liked instead of that foul stuff my parents had just given me. It looked like a firework had exploded over my plate; the colours weren’t vivid and warm, but almost rusty. With any luck, Ella would be willing to cook me something wonderful.
Pulling my hair out of its ponytail, I then let myself flop onto my bed. I felt myself sinking into the mattress as I allowed my eyelids to droop. I was hoping to be able to go shopping today, but I’d woken up rather late, plus both my mum and dad claimed they had no time to take me into town. They weren't even happy to take me to a bus stop or anything. I let out a long breath and let my thoughts ponder further. I'd have to go tomorrow or something. Now that my homeshooling had finished I had so much free time, which was to my liking, even though I did get partially bored at times.
As my mind drifted deeper and my eyelids became so heavy that I couldn’t open them, I heard a humming sound. It sounded like it was coming from outside. Was it a car? I listened closely. Yes, it was definitely a car. Ella walked to work though, so it couldn't be her. Maybe my dad had forgotten something in the house. I let out another long breath, and as my mind drifted off completely, I heard the creak of the front door opening. A moment later, I was asleep.
There was a shuffling noise as my mind began returning to the present. With my senses still more or less non-existent, I stirred. Some more shuffling sounds. My consciousness was beginning to drift again when I felt something warm--a breath in my ear.
“Victoria! Your bed's on fire!”
Within a split second, every ounce of my senses returned as I leaped up in my bed and let out a bloodcurdling scream. As I lifted my head, it banged against something hard, which resulted in me groaning as my heart jumped out of my throat.
“Ow!” I heard a voice beside me again. “Frickin’ hell, I never knew they taught you to headbutt people in fire drills.”
I scrambled off my bed as I looked towards the direction of the voice. Standing above my bed was a young, light haired boy. What in God's name? There was a strained expression on his face, and his hand was covering his one eye as he rubbed it. He shook his head, and as though he'd forgotten about his eye entirely, he practically skipped to the side of the bed I was now standing by. I noticed that the boy was wearing a pair of ripped jeans and a battered t-shirt. On his feet he wore an equally dirty pair of Converse shoes, and on his mouth he now wore a grin that spread from one ear to the other.
“Who...? What are?” I stammered as the boy neared me.
“Oh, don’t worry, there ain't really a fire.” The boy laughed, but he soon winced and rubbed his eye again. “Wow, you look well freaked out. Seriously, no fire. I were just messin’ around to scare the crap out of you. It worked too, but the headbutti’ me thing weren’t really necessary, Victoria.” He rubbed his eye again.
I could darn well tell there wasn't a fire. That wasn’t what was causing my eyes to almost bulge out of my skull in fear. The boy dressed as a blooming tramp in front of me was what was causing that. How did he even know my name? I stared at him without moving an inch. His clothes looked as though they hadn’t been washed. Ever. His sandy blonde hair was incredibly messy and nothing about his cocky smile screamed safe, let alone sophisticated.
Without giving it another thought, I screamed for Ella, my childhood nanny. I couldn't leave my room; who knew what this tramp of a boy could do in there? I wasn't letting him go anywhere. No way was I going to let some idiot break into my house, scream in my ear and scare the living daylights out of me. There were going to be some serious consequences.
“Whoa! Chill out!” The boy raised his hands, which caused me to jump slightly. “I ain’t gonna bloomin’ kill you! Well, as long as I like you, I ain’t.”
I had no idea whether he was joking or not, and that thought tightened my chest. I quickly glanced towards the direction of the hallway outside my room to see my door closed. Oh, God. Where was Ella? I kept my feet glued to the same spot due to the fact I was afraid of what the boy might do. Thankfully, the boy didn't move forward anymore. My heart was beating into overdrive, making me want to turn and run.
Mentally kicking myself, I forced myself to stay where I was. Don't be silly, I thought to myself. There must be a reasonable explanation for this. Keeping my eyes on the boy, I screamed for Ella again.
“Seriously, Victoria, I’m goin’ deaf ‘ere.” He stepped towards me.
For the third time, I yelled Ella's name. Where in the world was she? Normally, I’d call her and she’d be here within a matter of seconds. I didn't turn away from the boy, not for a millisecond. Rolling his eyes, he stood a good couple of feet away from where I was standing. Oh, God, he was getting closer to me. This was a bad idea. A terribly bad idea. I was about to make a run for it when the boy opened his mouth again.
“I’m Ollie Poynter,” he said before clicking his tongue. “Well, Oliver technically, but yeah. Just call me Ollie. It’s easier.”
My eyes were glued to his face. He had some weird, perfectly casual grin on it. I'd forgotten about running away now; I was too bewildered by the fact that there was some random, scruffy teenage boy in my bedroom talking to me. He was acting as if it was completely normal. Oliver clearly noticed the confusion and frustration in my face. Unsurprisingly, he began laughing. Again. I gritted my teeth. I could really do with Ella turning up now.
“Don’t worry, I ain’t ‘ere to hurt you. I’m ‘ere to work.” Oliver grinned, his dark green eyes scanning my room. “I know this house is big and all, but seriously? Your room is like the size of my entire flat. Mind you, my flat ain’t that big. It ain’t really small though, I’ve been in smaller ones.” He started laughing as he turned away and began strolling around the room. “Right, there’s this one guy who lives in his flat with, like, twenty three cats. His name’s Jeff. How weirdly normal is that? Jeff’s such a common name, but if you think about it, you never actually meet anyone called Jeff. Well, except for the mad cat guy I know.”
I gaped at Oliver, and I was aware of the fact that there was a bizarre expression on my face. What the hell was he on about? Why was he even talking to me? I wasn't afraid anymore. He was acting like a ten year old. He was almost bouncing around my room as though he were a child on a trip to the zoo. Did he always talk that much? His voice drowned out into the background as I tried contemplating the reason behind his constant yapping. I tilted my head. Maybe he was nervous? That thought soon disappeared.
He sat himself down at my computer with his full attention on the wide screen as he pressed a button. Soon enough, the computer was brought to life. He cursed as he laughed. He pressed the button again and turned the machine off, but he didn't apologise once. Still talking, Oliver continued wandering around my room. Although I had no idea who he was, I didn't feel unsafe around him anymore. The only thing I was worried about was his mental health. He had begun to talk about fruit as he ran his fingers along the screen of my computer. After turning back around, he soon jumped on my bed again.
"I mean, yeah, I get it. Five a day or whatever, but c'mon, those berry things taste like puke and leaves. Do you like 'em? You seem like the ki--"
“Ella!” I screamed my head off, “Ella!”
“Victoria? What in God’s name is wrong?” Ella suddenly came rushing into the room.
“Him!” I complained, pointing at Oliver, who’d finally shut up.
Ella then turned to him. Looking back at her, Oliver smiled as a pair of small dimples grew on his cheeks. I swore I was going to kill him. How dare he stare at her and smile so innocently like that? As Ella turned her attention to Oliver, she shook her head and crossed her arms, although I couldn’t help but notice her forcing a smile off her face.
“She has some serious anger issues.” Oliver jumped onto my bed after nodding at me. “No wonder no one wants to marry her. Judgin' by the way she attacked me earlier, she’d probably domestically abuse any bloke tha' gets within five yards of her. She screams like a banshee on vodka.”
Ella tried--and failed--not to laugh. Some obnoxious, dirty boy had just insulted me and Ella had laughed. Noticing my bitter expression, she immediately stopped chuckling. Oliver clearly didn’t care about my feelings though; he continued grinning happily.
“Sorry, Victoria,” Ella said before turning to Oliver. “Ollie, I thought I told you not to be so... enthusiastic. Oh, and get off the bed please.”
“You know him?” I almost yelped.
“You bet!” Oliver said, getting off my bed. He’d left an untidy pile of creases where he had been sitting. “Ella and me are like this.” He crossed his fingers and winked at me. “Jealous, ain't you?”
Completely ignoring Oliver’s comment, all of my thoughts were on Ella. I looked at her with my eyes begging for an explanation.
“I’m friends with his mother.” Ella laughed. “Your parents hired him to be your personal assistant, which I think is rather nice of them." She paused as she turned to Ollie. "He’s not doing a very good job of it though, so far.”
Oliver clicked his tongue. "I bet you feel silly, Victoria." Ella shot him a glare. "Err, I mean, sorry, Vic...” Oliver paused as another annoying grin grew on his face. “I mean, Miss Kingston.”
No way was I going to let this clown be my ‘assistant’. Why I needed an assistant in the first place was beyond me. I was perfectly capable of doing things on my own. Knowing my parents, they'd probably just hired him to keep an eye on me for whatever reason. I swore they thought I was an out of control delinquent. They may as well have bought me a cage. At least that way, they would have been able to stalk my every move.
Taking a mint from the bowl on my bedside cabinet, Oliver then threw it into his mouth. At least his breath didn’t smell. Thankfully, the rest of him didn’t either, which actually surprised me. He was dressed like a tramp, after all. I did eventually manage to get Oliver out of my room. That was the second boy I’d kicked out today, and the fourth one I'd kicked out within the past two months. By the sound of it though, unlike the others, Oliver was going to come back. Judging by what Ella said, it was impossible for me to encourage my parents that I didn't need an assistant.
I'd only just been born when I first saw Ella's long, ash blonde hair that was always tied into a perfect bun. She never really needed to smile; her deep brown eyes did that for her. Her skin was a lot more sagged now than it used to be, and her voice sometimes shook when she spoke. I tilted my head as I looked at her. The creases on her face didn’t symbolise old age to me though. Instead, they symbolised wisdom.
I collapsed onto my bed before I shut my eyes. There was a cool, refreshing breeze coming from the window. I could hear a few birds chirping outside, momentarily relaxing me until a strong wind blew into my room which flared my curtains upward. A sharp shiver ran through my body as the gust of wind entered my room. My eyes quickly opened again.
“You can’t keep pushing away every man you meet, Victoria,” a gentle voice spoke.
I raised my eyes to see Ella sitting beside me. She looked far from impressed. Her eyes were turned down at their corners as well as her thin lips. Ella and I both knew that she was right, but I just didn’t want to admit it.
“Come on, Ella,” I complained, crossing my arms. “Have you seen some of the men my father has found? That Daniel guy who I met a few months ago was almost twice my age.. Besides, he had a go at my socks.”
As I spoke, a smile grew on Ella’s face. She obviously couldn't help but be amused by my comment. She probably didn’t think he was that bad. I strongly disagreed. After rubbing her hands on her pinafore, she took her shoes off and crossed her legs. Ella signalled for me to sit up and I did exactly that.
I dropped my head into my hands. I didn't want any of that, and that was why everything felt so complicated. I didn't want to feel as though I had to find someone to marry within the next year, and I didn't want to marry someone because of my father’s fears. As much as this mushy stuff made me want to gag, the truth was that I wanted to fall in love.
Ella's small hand was placed on my knee. Even though she wasn't really my nanny anymore, but more of a housekeeper, Ella truly did feel like a good friend. She was the only one who seemed to be on my side nowadays.
“Look, I know that you’re not too keen on this whole marriage thing,” Ella began, “but you know as well as I do, Victoria, that your family needs this."
I hated it when Ella was right, especially when she made me feel guilty. Since the day I entered the world, my chances at a regular life were pretty much non-existent. I didn't have a choice. I was born into the Kingston family: one of the richest families in England, etcetera. I'd heard it a million times. Well, we were one of the richest at the time, but times had sure changed since then. I knew that all too well now. Nobody except for my family knew this, but if things were to carry on as they were, our money would soon run out.
My father had stupidly lied to my mother, telling her that the family business was fine for the past five years. Apparently, the recession hadn’t hit us hard at all, and all of the money he was splashing out on the clubs would be worth it. In fact, the recession had merely skimmed us, leaving no pieces to pick up, but I suppose my father was a good liar. My mother would often ask him why he hesitated when he brought his wallet out, but he’d respond by mumbling something about her being paranoid. Soon enough, my father's lies ran dry and both my mother and I realised that the family business was, in fact, struggling. After five years, we noticed how much of an understatement struggling was. All of the money he gave to the nightclubs simply disappeared, and it was eventually clear to me that the only thing the clubs were doing was swallowing our money. It most definitely took my father a while to realise that.
Lifting my head back out of my palms, I then looked back up at Ella. There was an uncomfortable silence in the room. The sound of the wind blowing through my window was the only minor distraction. I couldn't look at Ella, not directly. Instead, my eyes were fixated on my Apple Mac computer that was placed on a large, pine desk in the corner of my room.
After sitting silently for a minute or so, Ella finally gave up on receiving a response from me. She gently removed her hand from my knee.
“Just... just try and be more open minded, okay?”
“Okay,” I lied.
Ella was just about to leave my room when she turned around and titled her head as she looked at me.
“One more thing,” she said. “Can you at least try and get along with Ollie? I understand that he can be a bit frustrating to be around sometimes, but he's a really good lad. Trust me on that one, Victoria.” She shrugged. “Besides, you never know, you might have something in common." She shrugged. “He's great with kids, and I know you love children. That's something, I suppose.”
Ella turned back around before leaving the room, and then closed the wooden door after here. Quite frankly, I couldn't care less how good he was with children. Besides, it was obvious why he must have been good with them. He was one himself. I stood up form my bed as I glanced at the bowl of mints that were placed on my bedside cabinet. Oliver had eaten one, hadn't he? I’d have to wash those.
There was a part of me though, an almost non-existent part of me that couldn't help but be curious for the next time I'd see him. There must have been a reason behind his ecstatic behaviour. I mean, no one was naturally like that, were they?
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