Page 1 of Love Starves

Blythe

Smack, smack, smack.

Smack, smack, smack.

The impatient sound of a flip flop colliding with the bottom of a sole is enough to drive anyone a little batty. Even if it is my foot doing the bouncing. Checking my watch for what has to be the seventh time, I come to the realization that my parents are going to be a no show for our video chat.

Again.

Color me shocked. The rich and famous Clemonte couple not having a second to spare to FaceTime their only child.

More than used to the routine, I close the chat window and open my email instead. Sure enough, the very first one to pop up is from Mrs. Clemonte herself. The address may belong to my mother, but I’d bet my privileges of shopping at Tiffany’s that her personal assistant wrote it.

Blythe,

Accept our sincerest apologies for Mr. Clemonte and myself not being able to attend our scheduled meeting today. An issue required our immediate attention so we will be in touch to reschedule.

With love,

Mommy Dearest

I roll my eyes so hard I’m shocked they don’t fall out of my head. She normally goes through assistants faster than a race car but they’re always the same. Eager to please. Dumber than a box of rocks. Several of them even had the same exact name. None of them ever dare to not follow their instructions down to the very last dot. I wouldn’t, in their shoes, either if I wanted to keep my classy high-paying job. But it makes these generic emails so easy to spot.

Standing and kicking off my shoes, I make my way over to my closet. They may not give a shit about how I’m doing but I know someone who will. Even if there are ulterior motives behind it. Shooting out a quick text, I toss my phone toward my bed on the way by. It bounces a few times and threatens to fall off before settling. It’s the newest edition that is super rare because it hasn’t even hit the market for normal people yet, but I could get another with a snap of my fingers tomorrow if I wanted it. Oh, the perks of being rich.

My lip pulls up in a snarl at the thought. Sometimes in life, there are just things that money can’t buy, and I’ve been feeling that more and more lately.

Wanting to feel sexier than normal, I ignore my casual skirts and opt for a mini instead. Taking it off the hanger and sliding it up my legs, I can’t help noticing the gap slowly starting to appear between my hip bones and the material. Eating will need to be added to the agenda at some point today. I’ve been doing so well, and the last thing I need is Dr. Geoff on my ass at my appointment.

Ugh. I don't understand why our bodies are physically incapable of living without eating. I hate it to the point of rather stabbing myself in the foot than putting food into my mouth. Having to count all the calories and fat, then having to work it all back off. Micro-counting is almost as bad as going to the gym. Though, I must admit, there always seems to be enough man-candy to eat in order to sate my other appetite. That is where I ran into Giovanni for the first time, after all. That tanned, beefed-up Italian that I'd be both proud and ashamed to bring home to meet the parents. The thought of his ice-blue eyes framed by dark lashes that matches the color of his undercut and chin strap beard does things to my insides that has me wanting to rush through the rest of my ritual. Whoever came up with the idea of ‘no strings attached’ sex needs an award because that's all Giovanni is to me. Sex. As are the others. These feelings are nothing but lust.

Pulling on my white Valentino blouse that falls directly beneath my skirt, I begin to hum quietly to myself, wondering if my text has been answered yet. There's noifit'll be answered, more likewhen. It never gets ignored. No matter the time or day. The only thing that's ever left up to curiosity is the where, but eight-out-of-ten times, that's not even a surprise either.

Grabbing the white Rockstud Flair pumps from their spot, I head back out into my room. They get set at my feet near the vanity stool as I turn my attention to my makeup and hair. A Clemonte woman is always ready to be seen, so my governess always said. I'd immediately pulled my hair out of rollers this morning before sitting down to slather my fake face on. But that is the face I must wear for the family. The one I don't intend to wear for the next couple hours. Wiping the slate clean, I start from scratch, giving my usual lighter tones more of a darker touch. Deep indigo eyeshadow makes my natural blue irises take a drop on the color wheel. The soft-plum color of my lipstick accents the bronze contours of my cheeks.

As I make the usual poses in the mirror, I have to admire my own work. Even the way my slim collar bones stand out way too far can't kill my vibe. I must say, it's a face any mother should be proud of, and she may have been if she'd have actually managed to care enough to call. I can't even say where her and my father are this week. Hell, I couldn't tell anyone where they were last week or month either. Not just that they forget to share this information with their only daughter sometimes but finding out would mean that I would have to give some kind of shit. And I don't. There's only one thing I care about at this moment, and it can't be found in this room.

Sliding my feet into my pumps, I tie the laces up the back of my legs before going to retrieve a matching clutch. Only then do I go over to the bed and pick up my phone. A one-word answer on the screen is enough to have my belly clenching.

Gym

Same rodeo, different day. No other words are needed as I know exactly where to go. Checking the time on the way there, I make note that I've got another two hours before my appointment with Dr. Geoff. From the point of contact, it's a good forty-five-minute drive without traffic, so we'll have to make this shorter, but not necessarily sweeter, than usual.

Parking my Mercedes behind the gym, I do a quick glance in the rear-view mirror out of mere habit. There's no way anything would be out of place, but it's a social etiquette requirement. Though, I'd pay good money to see the look on my old governess's face if she knew what I was here for today. It'd be worth every penny.

I step out of my car and lock it up. It's safe here, due in main part to the owner's reputation, but this part of town isn't known to harbor the best of people so why risk it? My heels clack against the pavement as I sashay over to one of the side doors, which opens almost as soon as I'm in front of it.

Giovanni props his massive self against the door jam and crosses both arms and feet over the other. "This is twice this week already. Anything you want to talk about?"

"Nope," I tell him. "There are rules."

Challenging him with a stare, I let myself lust for the way his arms seem like they're going to pop the seam of his silk dress shirt. It's tucked into expensive slacks that lead down into leather Oxfords. For all the things Giovanni Parisi is, he's definitely not cheap. His lips purse slightly like he's sucking on something sour before he dips his head once and steps back to let me inside.

"You've only got four of us this time," Giovanni states in his bass tone. "Nick and the kid are running errands."

I shrug, "Fine by me. Got somewhere to be soon anyway."

By the time the words have left my mouth, Giovanni is pressed against my back with his cock hard as steel between us. For all of his expensive taste, one thing I can appreciate about the man more than anything is that he knows when to keep me presentable versus when it's acceptable to dirty me as he pleases. Barely adjusting the hair across my shoulder, his lips leave a trail of fire from my shoulder to right underneath my ear right before he nips the edge, dragging his teeth all the way to the end of the lobe.

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