Alright you guys, this is just something I got kicked into, and 'Mysterious' isn't really a name; it's a shadowy enemy. This chapter has a few charas mixed into them, tho.
Filler chapter, people, but chapter all the same. ^-^
Chapter Seven
(Mysterious boy's POV)
"So, why have you dragged me here?" I ask the man in green.
"I overheard you talking earlier," he says.
I roll my eyes. It's not funny to drag a plotting guy somewhere. I don't even know this guy! "So?"
"So, I know where that girl of yours is," he says.
"How should you know? The press have been keeping their whereabouts a secret!"
"Asked personnel there myself," the guy in green snarls. "They're in Italy."
I gape. "Italy? That's, like, a plane ride away!"
"Yeah, but when you're rich, it's no big deal."
I eye him suspiciously. "Who are you?"
He grins. "A racer's worst nightmare."
And then, I'm on a plane ride to Italy, one of the better places for romance. The guy in green has asked me to pack whatever I can carry and go. In about a day, we're underway.
"So, what's the plan?" I ask.
"We go in," he says.
"Just like that?" I exclaim in a hushed voice. "Are you crazy?"
"Of course not!" he growls.
"So, what do you want with the most prestigious racer in America?" I ask.
"What do you want with his daughter?" he shoots back.
"I want her back," I say. "That's all I want. You?"
"It's…personal. We have business to settle."
I eye him again. "You sure are a weird dude," I say. "But I've got no business with that."
He nods and pats my shoulder. "Thanks, fellow. And by the way, what's your name?"
"Craig. Craig Summers."
(Mysterious girl's POV)
"That bitch is sooo dead," I hissed at my friends, and they murmur agreement. "That vixen's got no right to snatch my boyfriend like that!" I rant on and on, and soon get tired as my belly hurts.
My name is Alessandria de Vonaire. Back in my high school, I was the object of my boyfriend's affections, even leaving his old girlfriend to have me. It was so heroic. I didn't mean to snatch him away, but what could I do? I was given anything I wanted, and I receive anything I want in a snap. Can I help it if I was raised like that?
I sip my beer again, and my friends say no, but I don't care. All I want to do is to just get drunk.
My parents have forbidden me on thing, though: to abort the baby. Yes, I am pregnant. About six, seven months in. Bastard got me knocked up, then when we found out, he broke up with me, telling me that bitch of a girl was better than I ever was. Asshole.
"Who're you going to get back to?" my friend asks me.
I set down my glass. "The bitch," I say. "And she's in Italy, so whatever."
They gasp. "How do you know?"
I look at them like it's obvious. "Don't you remember I have a spy?"
They give 'ohhh's of understanding, and say I'm a smart heck of a girl.
"So let's get her."
