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Lydia Burns…so damn gorgeous…
I am Jamie Vardi – son of the richest, best-known family in town,
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“I’m off to work, sweetie,” Dad says while kissing me on the top of the head. Usually, I don’t mind when he treats me like I’m still a five-year-old, but today I feel oddly irritated and I’m not sure why. “You need a ride?”
I sigh loudly, glancing towards the clock. I would much rather walk to school, but I am too late for that now, so I don’t really have a choice. I would be seen in the extremely gorgeous car that my father needs for work, which is extremely embarrassing considering that everyone knows my family is much too poor to afford anything like an Aston Martin. It just reminds people that Dad works for the Vardi family.
Urgh, the Vardi family. The richest, best known family in town. They have everything that anyone else would wish they could. A giant mansion on the edge of town, right next to the woodland area, with staff working tirelessly every single day to keep it in tip top shape. They have cleaners, gardeners, cooks, and drivers… just like my dad. He drives around all members of the family. Mr. Brandon Vardi, a man who has come from old money and is more than happy to let everyone know how entitled he is, and his third wife, Sandi. She’s young, not much older than me, with pert fake breasts and platinum blonde hair. Oh, and her twin baby girls with their string of nannies. I don’t think Sandi has ever looked after them at all. She probably didn’t even have a natural birth. The phrase ‘too posh to push’ was invented for people like her. The babies are just a security thing, I’m sure. I might only be eighteen years of age, but even I can see that. I don’t know why Mr. Vardi can’t.
And then, of course, there’s another member of the family, Jamie freaking Vardi. The nineteen-year-old son of Brandon Vardi’s first marriage. I assume his mother is the only woman who Brandon actually loved, but unfortunately, she passed away many years ago from Cancer. I don’t know much more about it than that.
Jamie is the best and worst thing about the Vardi family. He’s the guy who I find it so incredibly hard to be around. I’ve known him for eight years now, ever since my dad started working for the family, and it didn’t take long for a mild dislike due to his slightly arrogant personality to grow into a full blown crush as soon as my hormones started to get the better of me. Maybe he is a bit full of himself, but with a chiselled face like his, sparkling green eyes, and a body to die for, why shouldn’t he be? He’s absolutely damn gorgeous.
His money helps him a lot, of course. He can afford the best clothes, he has all of the nicest stuff, he just oozes cool. Everything about him makes him a catch, which I guess is why he won’t ever look at me. He’s stunning, he has it all, why would he look at little Lydia Burns from the poorer end of town who is so unlovable that even her own mother walked out on her when she was just a baby? If the person who’s programmed with maternal love, designed specifically to love me, chose a life in France over me, then why would Jamie Vardi want me? He just wouldn’t. I’m plain looking, with messy brown hair, muddy hazel eyes, and too many curves. Never mind the fact that I’m forced to dress like shit and I can’t afford anything new. I’m nothing. Especially not compared to the string of smoking hot girls that I see him with all the time when I meet my dad from work. They’re older, sexier, exactly the type who just get what they want… including Jamie. The only solace I can find is that none of them stick around. Not that it means he’s going to look my way anytime soon.
“Yeah,” I sigh, grabbing my bag while I stand up. My skirt is rumpled and my hair’s still up in a bun rather than being brushed, but it’s too late to change now. “Thanks, Dad.”
I follow Dad outside and shake my head as I see the car on the driveway. It looks ridiculous there, I’m sure the whole street must think so. It looks crazy on a street where everyone else has normal cars. But the Vardis are so posh and can afford so much that they insist Dad drives this even to their property. It’s so pretentious.
It’s only when I slide into the passenger seat of the car that I can admit to myself that a lot of my feelings are stemmed in jealousy. I want this car, I want the life of the Vardis, I want to be wealthy. I hate being poor.