“Then fucking do it.” I screamed, clenching my jaw and threw the wine bottle on the floor. The dark purple liquid fills the gap between the two marbles coloring it purple. The sound of the classic music comes to halt as everyone's attention slides towards me. My hand clenched the material of my black dress, as my eyes met with my father.

“Excuse me, Моя дочь, кажется, слишком взволнована.” Papa says in Russian with a smile that only added fuel to my anger.

(My daughter seems to be overexcited)

“Overexcited?” I whispered as he grabbed my arm and dragged me inside. My dress stuck to my pencil heels, almost tripping me, but Papa's hold on my arm didn't let me fall.

“You don't know how to react and where to react, Princess.” I simply rolled my eyes as Papa locked the door, so someone couldn't eavesdrop on our talk.

I took a few steps back, the sound of my heel echoed in the room as I turned around and sat on the bed while Papa stood in front of me. “You are going to marry that woman?” My words came out with a blend of Russian tone.

“It's been a decade, Varya. Move on.” He says.

“Move on? From whom? My mom? I can't papa—you can, but I can't.” I said and folded my arms across my chest. “You are just overreacting, this is the reason I didn't want you to join us tonight.”

I scoffed, turned my face away from my father, and spoke again. “I will never accept that woman as my mother—” Papa cuts me off midway. “But I already accepted her as my wife.” My jaw clenched and my well manicured birthday theme nails dug into my arms that it burns.

I stood upright, taking two steps towards my father, and spoke. “I am not a kid Papa, I know why you have accepted her as your fucking wife—” he cuts me off again, this time both by his raising his hand in the air which wasn't meant to hit me and his glares.

“Mind your language, Varya. I understand you're hurt, but you have no rights to speak about your moth—”

“You forgot to add a step before mother, Dadda. Your relationship with her is a business. Are you surprised? As you should be.” I walked past him. My hand trembled before I turned the knob of the door.

Anger is burning me inside, and I don't want to see him announcing his so-called wedding with that bitch—I might end up killing her with my heel itself or maybe my nails. So I simply walked away from the Villa far away, but the sound of music still reached my ears.

The moon’s reflection looks beautiful in the water of the Ocean and the sand doesn't irritate me anymore, so I removed my heels as it was becoming difficult to walk on the sand and sat on the sand letting the water touch my feet.

Will he come here today?

I turned my face, my eyes scanning the area. Despite the darkness, my eyes kept on looking for the person. “Are you searching for me, butterfly?” A smile appeared on my face, but I thinned my lips into a line. At this, this asshole doesn't make me feel like shit.

“Are you that delusional?” I didn't turn to look at him but soon a hand—his tattooed hand came in contact with my eyes. “Do you want to ride my car?” I should hate him, but I don't. Instead, he makes me feel like Varya—the girl I wanted to be, but he is an asshole.

“How about I ride you?” I lifted my eyes and our eyes met. As usual, his face is covered with a mask—the creepy skeleton mask. “Dirty girl.” I grabbed his hand as he pulled me towards him.

His fucking addictive Cologne has the intensity to have me on my knees for this asshole, I don't know a single thing about him, whereas he knows everything about me. “I am going.” I say, flipping my hair, but he doesn't let go of my hand.

“Not now—I want you to ride.” He paused, making my eyes go wide. “I was kidding, Mr. Mask man.” Blood rushed to my cheeks and the urge to move my gaze from him took over me, but I don't wanna do that.

“But I am not kidding, Varya. Please don't hesitate to ride—my car—” he paused, lowering himself towards my ear and whispering. “— and later my dick.” This—bastard.