Granting one last wish

ABBY

The morning sun is slightly peeking from the curtain of my window right into my eyes. I wake up, and my blanket is wrapped tightly under my arms, and it smells like jasmine and vanilla—the same fabric conditioner they used. Someone must have tucked me in last night. 

I peek through my blanket, and I’m still in the same clothes as yesterday from our flight. Two days in a row now, and I slept with the same clothes. I get up from the bed, feeling lightheaded. I had to sit back to have my bearing. I don’t see my suitcases anymore. I guess one of the staff must have brought them into my closet.

I take off my clothes and head to my bathroom, and I pass by my massive walk-in closet. All my clothes from my suitcases are already hanging according to color. I open the top drawer, and I see my underwear. My makeup, makeup remover, moisturizers, kits, perfumes, and cologne are placed just the way I like. As much as I want to be lazy all day, I have more important things to do than sulk in my room. I decide to go to my bathroom and shower before someone can come inside to wake me up and see me half-naked.

After an eon, I’m all dressed up. I choose a knee-length white dress and Jimmy Choo sandals to match my dress. I put some mascara on and concealer under my eyes. I apply lip gloss too—just to look presentable. I still don’t know anything about Mom’s funeral.

After my breakfast that I asked to send into my own living room, I walk down to dad’s office. I hear murmurs from the inside—I presume, they’re Dad’s friends or Mom’s. I knock three times and wait. Before I can knock again, an unfamiliar deep husky voice says to come in. I hold the doorknob, but someone grabs from the inside, and the door swings open for me.

Shock is an understatement when I look up the man in front of me. The feeling is so strange, igniting every cell in my body that I don’t know it’s possible. I meet the gaze of those beautiful gray eyes surrounded by thick lashes that now I envy. And man, those eyes are so powerful and can hypnotize every woman by just one look. He has a small scar across the end of his right eyebrow, and now, he furrows in confusion. Wait a sec. Why though?

Oh, wow! His hair—thick jet black long wavy hair that touches down his shoulders and slightly tucked behind his right ear. Jeez, he’s perfect with high cheekbones. A nose that is molded to perfection and he has squared jaw with a five o’clock shadow that added to his look—more masculine? And oh, my God, his slightly parted lips are so full and red and kissable. I wonder how they feel against my lips. How do they taste like? And are they soft, warm? Does he apply lip balm?

Oh crap! Did he just notice me ogling him? Because I see the amusement in his eyes, and a smirk curves up his lips.

I swallow and blink twice or three times maybe, to erase those thoughts out of my head. For God’s sake, I’m here for one sole purpose not to ogle at some guy. There are plenty of fish in the sea if I’ll just look around. I can drool every man on earth I want, but not this time. I clear my throat to speak. Before I can say a word, he cuts me off.

“Who are you?” his deep husky voice makes me even shiver—it feels like an ignition to fire deep inside me, which I never felt like this before. This is getting weirder.

“Oh, and who the hell are you? Can you stay out of my way?” I raise my eyebrows and glare, but a six-foot-three or four inches is blocking my way. With his button-down white crisp shirt with two open buttons, slightly showing his hard and broad chest, making me want to run my fingers on the skin if it’s soft against my touch.

Please.

Please.

His sleeves rolled up just above his elbows, showing his strong arms and the tan skin of his arms. And those hands with long fingers that I don’t know how many women—

Crap.

Blame those books I’ve read, and I can’t just avoid the steamy part. My bitchy part starts to sprout like a werewolf ready to shift to wolf form. 

Oh, I’m just a girl.

“I want to see my dad. Now, move, you—” before I can continue, my best friend saves me from whoever this god-like in front of me.

“Abby, you’re awake. How’re you feeling?” He gives me a brotherly hug and kisses me on my cheek. “You look good today.”

or this is your way of telling me I

I guess he must

eyes, and I blush so hard. My father just called me pumpkin in front of this hot—no, he’s an overconfident ass.

who?” Oh, this must be the hot jerk. God, this has to end. Now!

am I thinking? I just lost my mother, and here I am crushing on some jerk—a hot jerk.

and I

Addy.” I hear the husky voice behind me again.

face him. He’s already offering his hand for a handshake. I hesitate, but my dad is around. I’m

who is now smiling and showing his perfect white teeth, and Oh, holy

single flaw? Even the cut from his eyebrow makes him

entire body to full comfort. I feel my blood rushes to my brain, and my heart beats erratically. I’m still holding my breath, and

instantly releases his hand. His smile fades, then he clears his throat once more. I

sorry about your mom, Addy.” He seems sincere in saying it.

to know my mother pretty well,” I say and sit

hot

well. He’s Chris’ son, Abby. He took his dad’s CEO

The rich bad boy playboy is

Perfect. And he’s bad

daughter might think I just grabbed the opportunity while Dad handed his position to me,” he retorts amusingly. Then

to be serious, determined, and smart. Or everything I see in him is clouding my judgment? Still, the playboy and bad boy

if I’m not used to meeting businessmen like him. I can see him who always bark, organize, decide, and a control freak. I guess I misjudged him if Dad compliments

want to hit my head against the wall, and maybe it helps me distract my

broken and lost. Why do I have to meet him in circumstances like this?

“Are you still in college, Abby?” he asks, emphasizing the B.

“Yeah. Just finished my junior year. I’m taking Business Management major in Finance and Ad,” I answer with pride.

and universities around here, why bother in another

palms start to sweat, but Drew squeezes my

who plays dress-up, go shopping, and painting toenails. I want to

Mike mentioned that you excel academically.” He looks amazed, but it feels more like an

What is this? A beauty contest with Q &

I want to roll my eyes. “Let say I’m a freak, a dork, I have no life other than books and my thick-rimmed glasses, but thanks to Adolf Gaston Eugen Fick and Otto Wichterle, I don’t need any more glasses,” I answer with touches

look at Dad, and he doesn’t look impressed at all. Mr. Hot sexy jerk smiles at me that can melt every women’s

“So, Dad, what’s your plan on mom’s?” I feel my eyes start to wet. I look up, blink back

mom doesn’t want a long funeral.”

starts to tremble. I feel my tears run down my face. I can’t say another word, and all I can do is

that Mom was sick again. I thought you both went for a honeymoon. I didn’t know that honeymoon has the same meaning as the hospitalization these days. Maybe because I don’t have a twitter account, and I’m so left behind