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TIARA
"Out of the way!" I yelled frantically at the man who was heading in my direction since I knew I wouldn't be able to dodge him in time.
I missed my opportunity to break when I finally saw him. Instead, my bike went into an unavoidable swing and I could hardly keep it under control. I didn't manage it . As I got closer, I realized I was going to hit him.?
To my great astonishment, the bastard suddenly noticed me and backed away. Enough for me to lose my balance and smack him in the arm with the handlebars. The fall I took had my thoughts and my insides all mixed up. "Watch where you're going, you moron"! I snapped at him and was quite justified in my rage. I became even angrier when I noticed he was silent.
"God, my canvas!"
My best paintings got scattered and covered in the asshole's coffee as they lay on the sidewalk. I could only watch them helplessly.
I struggled to get to my feet and lifted the paintings while my eyes were on the verge of tears. He slashed them to pieces.
"Me, a moron? Wow, I didn't know they still made people like you," I overheard him exclaim as he casually wiped the coffee off his pricey freaking shirt. The idiot had left a store that was so extravagant that I couldn't even afford a shoelace.
I stood squarely in front of him, using the last of my remaining strength. And I froze. The bastard was scorching hot.
He glared at me with dark eyes that seemed to enslave me in some kind of strong but fictitious anguish. Suddenly, I stumbled over my words, and much worse, my posture. My legs betrayed me, and countless emotions overcame me.
Never before had I seen a man who was both gorgeous and annoying.
My attention was drawn to the noticeable brown stain on his shirt and the way his muscles moved through the thin fabric. He was also examining me, perhaps even boldly. The audacity of him!
I fought to break free of the daze this dickhead had put me in and continued to defend my rights. This man just humiliated me, and I realized how kind nature had been to him.
"What did you just say?"??
I could hardly contain myself from hitting him in his perfectly carved jaw. He was furious. His chocolate-brown eyes had a black veil over them, and I could tell by how intently he was looking at me. But who cared? He just ruined my life's work.
"Look what you did to my shirt!"?
"Your shirt? Who the hell cares about your stupid shirt? See these? Do you know what they are?" I yelled as I threw them at him.?
He shrugged with utter insensitivity, which pissed me off even more. But I didn't have the time to sit around and argue with a brute. "You know what? I don't fucking care. I'm going to make you pay one way or another. Now take them! They're no good anymore, and I hope you're happy with your performance!"
Unexpected things happen in life, they always come at once...
"I'm coming now! Don't break down my door!" I shouted, putting the brush and colors down next to the canvas. It was barely past 12 PM and whoever was knocking on the door didn't stop until I arrived. "Oh my God, stop!" I repeated behind the door, opening it. "What?" I snapped in a raised tone.?
Steven Glare, founder of the London Belle Beauty Spa chain---my biological father, sat motionless in front of me, large dark circles under his eyes.??
"Tiara..."
I just slammed the door without hearing another word.?
My first mistake was opening the door. I should have knocked him out with the first punch. I paced nervously up and down the narrow hallway of my apartment. What was he doing here after all these years? I'd barely escaped his shadow. With trembling hands, I reached for my phone to call my therapist. The one guy who helped me through this troubled time. This while I could hear him hammering on and on.
"Tiara! Tiara, open the door!"?
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