Second Impressions Series
Author
M.C. Capocci
Reads
861K
Chapters
51
Olivia Summer doesn't know what to do with her hot mess of a life, but she knows one thing: she hates men. Darius Rothschild is a hot, domineering jerk with the habit of getting what he wants when he wants it. Giving in to their desires leads to an inevitable fight between power and surrender until, unable to control their growing scorn and hunger for each other, they descend into the flames of hate and passion. Soon, nothing will be left but ashes.
Age Rating: 18+ (Depression)
Chapter 1: Ollie
OLLIE
âI changed my mind. Iâm not going,â I said, counting my breaths and fidgeting uncomfortably while waiting for a reply.
The other side of the line remained silent.
Should I worry? Was my cheerful sister speechless for the first time in her life?
âWhat?!â Sarahâs voice rang in my ear like the bell of a boxing ring, sharp and jarring.
I had to pull the phone away as a stream of unintelligible babbling poured from the speaker.
I already knew I would need to lie my ass off to get out of this one, but, one, lying had been as easy as breathing for me since I was five, and two, well, thereâs no chance in hell I was spending Christmas with Sarahâs new boyfriendâs family.
âMy PTO request has been denied, Iâm afraid.â
âI thought you negotiated that when you accepted the offer!â she fumed. âYou are lying! You. Big. Fat. Liar.â
âI donât know what you are talking about,â I deflected her accusation.
âI really need this job to work out. I canât lose another one. I am terribly sorry,â I said, trying to sound like I really cared about my fake job.
âI know you are lying, Olivia.â
Of course I was lying.
Lying was better than admitting that Iâd been writing at coffee shops while applying for jobs.
To say that things have not been going in my favor was an understatement.
My life was a complete disaster.
So I made up this lie about my fantastic new gig as an Associate Editor at this new indie publisher.
âYou already confirmed. You canât bail on me at the last minute!â
Damn it! She knew I was lying, she just didnât know why.
And like a dog with a bone, her mind would chase every possibility until she unearthed the truth.
âOh, no. Youâre back with him, arenât you?â she threw that accusation, making my stomach lurch.
âNo!â My fingers touched the place where my engagement ring used to be, like a phantom limb.
Silence.
I swear I could hear her mind thinking through the phone.
âYou are so back with him,â she laughed to herself. âWhy else would you not be coming?â
Why, why, why did she want to poke around my failed relationship slash business so much?
âLook, I know this is a tough time for you. You havenât shared any details with me, but I am your sister. I just think it is best if we spend Christmas together,â she insisted.
Oh, for the love of baby Jesus! I just wanted to be alone eating ice cream and crying over Hallmark movies.
âLook, sis.â I sighed. âI understand, and believe me when I say that I really, really wish I could hang out with you and talk about this so much.â
Lies. Olivia, why are you doing this?
Because I donât have a rich boyfriend to solve all my problems like you have? Because I am terrified of you ever finding out I am currently broke and unemployed right after Rogerâs shit show? Because I donât want to become your new rich familyâs charity project.
Something that I knew well about Sarah was that if she knew what was happening, she would try to fix things with money.
Even worse, with money that was not hers! Not that her new billionaire-baby-trust-fund-empire heir boyfriend would mind giving a couple of thousand, Iâm sure.
âI can talk to Alexander, he would be more than happy to help,â she added.
I sighed in despair.
Never in a million years! I could hear the bells from hell calling me in shame if I were to ever accept anything from her.
Who did she think she was? Mother Teresa?
âNot everything is about money, Sarah. Iâm serious about work. I canât afford to lose another job,â I answered irritably.
When I wanted to yell at the top of my lungs that I was afraid, I was about to lose this apartment, and for the first time in years I was about to lose my shitâas in a mental breakdownâand to make it even scarier, I was processing all this stuff while lying still on my sofa.
âWhy do you have to be like this? You never let me help you,â she pleaded.
Why did she care so much anyway?
My sweet little sister was perfect. A solid ten out of ten while I wasâŠwell, meâplain brown hair, ordinary dark eyes, and so skinny I could use a Cheerio as a belt.
My mom used to say, âIf you swallow a meatball people could think you are pregnant.â
Haha, not funny.
Back then, the mean kids from school used to call me Skeletollie or Skinniollie, which sounded more like an Italian dish than an insult.
And now? Well, a lot has changed since I became a woman.
My figure was more athletic and lean than Sarahâs curvy Marilyn Monroe body.
I was still skinny, but I liked to think I had my own thing going on.
And yes, for years Iâd compared myself to perfect Sarah, but I mean, who wouldnât?
She was beautiful, curvy, classy, blonde, and just the right amount of exotic.
But worst of all, she was kind. Or fake kind. I wasnât sure yet.
What really got under my skin, so much that I couldnât just let it go?
Fuck, did she love poking where it hurt.
She had a knack for digging into my failures, and that, combined with the fact that she went through life on the grace of her loobs: looks and boobs, was enough to make my blood boil.
At this point, keeping my sister at a safe distance felt like the only safe option for her survival.
So yeah, I openly judged her, though I knew that was wrong.
She was my little sister, the only thing stable in my life, the one who always had my back.
âThen if it is not money it is definitely about how he cheated,â she assumed, and I felt the air sucked out of my lungs.
Though I didnât show it, it still hurt me.
If only she knew what really happened.
âPlease, drop it.â
âStop being so defensive? You know I am on your side, donât you? I mean, I still canât believe Roger would be capable ofââ
âCan we not?â I cut her off, pronouncing each word slowly.
The last thing I wanted to do was extend this conversation to that topic.
Breathe in, breathe out. Donât lose your cool.
âWeâll talk about this in person, in a couple of hours,â she added.
âI said Iâm not going to the Hamptons, Sarah.â I spoke through my teeth, staring at my reflection in one of the mirrors of my crappy apartment.
âI already started unpacking.â
âBut he is almost there to pick you up! This is Alexanâ.â
I hung up, and the silence pushed away the guilt and yelling.
Especially the yelling.
My dreams of spending a peaceful holiday alone, looking for a job that paid real money, were just around the corner, and I was on a winning streak.
Heaven was near. I could feel it! I could almost hear the sound of checks being made out to my name, and finally, no one would disturb my peace.
Then an email from Santaâs naughty list popped up.
SKYWARD BANK.
Financial Services Department /203 West St, New York, NY 10282
Miss Olivia Summer
3107 E 25th St Unit N56, Brooklyn, NY 11226 FlatbushâDitmas Park
December 2021
Dear Miss Summer
FINAL REMINDER
Further to my letter of November twenty-eighth, we have not received this half-yearâs monthly installments and there is a remaining balance of seventy-eight thousand, nine hundred eighty dollars and twenty-six cents of your private loan to pay us back.
Should payment of these past installments not arrive within the next seven days, your account will be frozen, and further actions will be taken.
Yours sincerely,
Ben Attewell
Customer Accounts Manager
I reread the letter, word by word.~
Breathe, swallow, breathe. Donât panic.
This was happening. This was real. I was broke and had nothing to offer beyond a huge debt for a nonprofit career and a bloodsucking failure of a business.
I closed my eyes, torturing myself again with the truth: I was broke and single.
My rent was due soon, and my bank account was running out of money.
My stomach started making sounds, making it hard to concentrate.
I had seen those survival TV shows. I could teach myself how to live by eating tree bark and rainwater. Oh my God⊠Am I going nuts?
I was checking to see whether I had any wine left when someone knocked on my door.
âOlivia Summer,â a deep manâs voice called from behind the door, âIâm here to pick you up.â
Sarah hadnât turned the driver away? That sneaky bitch!
My eyes shifted from the door to Ben Attewellâs letter.
Was this a signal from the universe?
And then it was clear.
The mental drain I would experience being around that snobby family made me sick, but it couldnât be worse than my crappy apartment or having to deal with my personal finance nightmare.
I, Olivia Summer, lost it.
My legs were already moving toward the door.
Rothschild family, here I comeâŠ
I opened the door, and my jaw dropped when I saw what was in front of meâa tall, well-dressed candy man standing at my door.
He was dressed better than a model on a magazine cover, and his sharp gray eyes and manly features were so captivating that my heart skipped a beat.
I think my heart stopped working altogether as my eyes roamed over this Greek godâs smooth olive skin and dark hair.
If this was the driver, I now identify as a four-wheel vehicle.
