Page 73 of Arianna

Ignoring the voice on the back of my head that lately seems to be a Sebastian fan, I reach my arms forward and hug Ella to my body. “You have me wrapped around that chubby little finger of yours,” I whisper to her before placing loud kisses on her little neck, causing her to wiggle her small body and smile adorably.

I never believed in love at first sight, and I am still on the fence about it, but there is no denying that the moment I laid my eyes on this baby girl, something shifted inside me, all around, everywhere.

Ellaiza is everywhere.

Ping.

The phone in my hand sounds off with a new notification. I lean back on the sofa, holding Ella tighter to me, and get comfortable. It is Sebastian’s response.

Tyrant: Beautiful.

Tyrant: Why is she frowning?

Tyrant: Is she hungry?

Tyrant: Tired?

The bubbles keep popping up, letting me know he is still typing.

Ella giggles, and I smirk at her. “Your daddy is annoying, baby. Wait until he gets you a phone when you turn five years old.” Ella giggles louder now, as if she understands me.

Sometimes it feels as if she is the only one who does.

A baby.

I type a quick reply to Sebastian.

Me: She is your spawn, Sebastian. Of course, she is pissed this early in the morning.

Tyrant: Pot meets kettle, darling.

What an a—

The phone flashes with another text from Sebastian.

Tyrant: Did you go through the emails I sent? I am going to the trouble of searching for good internship opportunities for you. The least you could do is reply.

????????????????????????????????????

I have come to enjoy using tiny pictograms instead of words. For someone like me that does not particularly enjoy talking, the smiley faces and objects are a clever way to respond to this man. I don’t have to waste my time writing, and it bothers the hell out of him.

It is a win-win for me.

Tyrant: Very mature, brat.

Brat… lately, that even sounds more like a term of endearment than an insult, like before.

These people are making me soft.

I wait for his response when I don’t reply, but it never comes. Of course, the man is relentless, but he still has a gigantic ego. Smiling to myself, I raise Ella until both of our cheeks are touching, and I snap a picture. This time for my eyes only.

I have countless pictures on my phone, but only some of them I post on social media. I succumbed to the self-centered app.

I don’t post often, and I only did it because I was curious and because it made the vein on Sebastian’s forehead pop when he found the account. Benjamin most likely blabbed, but in the end, I won that battle.

The infuriating man wanted me to enjoy life and act my age. Well, I am doing exactly that, even if I sometimes delude myself into thinking my life is anything but normal. One night, I posted a photo of myself in a baggy shirt wearing thigh-high Prada boots, facing the lighted floor-length mirror in the enormous walk-in closet, and the next thing I know, notifications kept popping up on my phone. I didn’t understand what was happening at first until the next morning. Sebastian looked at me weirdly but didn’t say a word, and Benjamin joked that I was an influencer now.

Whatever that means.

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