Second Impressions

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This girl is crazy

P.O.V Darius

I haven’t left my penthouse or seen my family in what feels like forever. All I’ve done these couple of months has been: work, train and read like a robot. I haven’t gotten much sleep either, and watching myself in the mirror showed how much I needed to shave and get a haircut.

I managed to guide my company remotely without being present in the main office, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t hustling. I just didn’t like distractions around.

Yes, my mom was worried, and she called me daily, not that I was able to answer all her calls, but I promised her I would come for Christmas to our Hamptons Estate.

With all the growth my new company was having, I had no time for simple pleasures, and that thought made me feel strange, even guilty sometimes.

My dad didn’t understand as he expected me to take the lead on the conglomerate of companies he had in banking and real estate. Instead, I chose Ink Force over the Rothschild Empire.

Ink Force is an American book publisher that I built from scratch three years ago. I hid it from my family’s name, and I just received the news from a secret source that we were going to be featured on Forbes list as one of the most promising publishing companies of the year.

Celine, my right hand, was representing me momentarily as interim CEO. I focused on the important decisions and gave the thumbs up for new authors she sent, but I didn’t mind her opinion now and then; I actually find her quite brilliant.

Even though that article has not been released, I knew it was a matter of time before my father got the news. Publishers like HarperCollins and Penguin would get the rumor by now. If they happened to do good research, they would not be happy to find out that a Rothschild was running the string behind.

They had the market for themselves, and that was about to change. I was not expecting to agree to any merger; even If that meant the end of Ink Force, it was all or nothing.

Celine would step down as interim CEO, and once I took over, everyone would finally know who was running the show. Robert Darius Rothschild's Ink Force. A publicity stunt meant to benefit the company with my family name, very cliche but efficient. Once the blood is out, I will wait for all these big sharks in the tank.

“I am a Rothschild” I muttered to myself while shaving. I used that phrase every time I needed to empower myself. I must succeed.

But what keeps me up at night isn’t them; it is my father. He is the real threat, and I know that as soon as he finds out, he will try to stop me and probably destroy my company in the process. I have to play my cards smart.

All this drama went down to my precious little brother, but blaming him won’t change the outcome for better or for worse. My father, Edmund Rothschild, the head of our family, would hardly leave Alexander as the only one left to claim his shares. Even though that meant all the stakeholders biting his flesh like crows at the end.

My brother has had a bad reputation over the last year with the tabloids. Most of them were about parties, models, and drugs. The hottest bachelor with a new fling every week in Monaco, Milan, L.A and so on.

We were so different, Alexander and I. To start, I have so much weight on my shoulders, so many expectations to fill from the world and my family, while he just lives his life to the fullest, unapologetic himself. So carefree and wild, something that I could never be, free. Was I feeling jealous of him?

I agreed with dad on one point; It was time for him to grow up.

He was putting our family name on the line, plus as long as our father wasn’t willing to let him lead the company, he was making my plans of independence from my family even more difficult.

These past three months, strangely, he calmed down his playboy reputation. Magazine headlines and photographs about him and a blonde girl named Sarah Summer. They appeared in love kissing on a boat and strolling on the beach. Is this a joke?. Something new to behold, not the Alexander we know.

The media was looking for any cricket sounds to start the band playing again with the same frame: Alexander the playboy is back! or worse, Alexander and his new gold digger affair are tying the knot.

I swallowed hard, that would give my old man a heart attack. Alexander’s words still rang in my mind “I have a big announcement to make, brother. Please promise me you will come”. A big announcement? Alexander, what are you planning?

I’ve only met her once, this Sarah. An opportunist? Maybe, I really can’t tell, but whatever dirt she has, I’ll find it first, and I know for sure my father is not willing to accept more of my brother’s nonsense.

Today was the day I was going to drive to my childhood vacation house. Alexander called at the last minute to ask for a favor. He wants me to pick up Sarah’s sister on my way to our family house, something about George, our driver, having an inconvenience. This was the perfect opportunity to start digging into Sarah’s past. What better way than getting to know her little sibling Olivia Summer.

I dressed and packed my clothes according to the events I knew my mother had planned; cocktails, dinners, family activities. No one loved tradition and customs more than my mom, Anna Elizabeth Rothschild.

This Christmas is going to be painful to watch. Am I starting to feel bad for these girls? They don’t know what they are getting themselves into. But, hey, if this girl Sarah has what it takes, maybe she won’t be fed to the wolves. We’ll see.

I drove from Manhattan to Flatbush, Brooklyn. I haven’t been to this part of the city in years, not that I like it, but it looks like a relatively safe neighborhood. I parked in front of an old building and made my way up to the apartment number my brother gave me.

“Ollie, I am here to pick you up,” I said while knocking at the door and inspecting everything. I was looking for anything that would help me understand the woman my brother is involved with, and coming to her sister’s home is just so fucking perfect.

The door opened, and I saw what I would call a humble apartment. To my surprise, I saw many books, and I mean a lot of them piling everywhere from the floor to the dining table. I also saw scattered shoes, clothes, a dead plant in a corner, and stacks and stacks of papers on the coffee table and even on the kitchen countertop. Ugh. What a mess.

I felt the compulsion to organize everything scratch in the back of my mind. My OCD was taking over me, and I knew the face I was making; it was of disgust... Is that water coming out of the roof?

Someone cleared their throat, and I turned my head to look at her. The most fuckable woman I’ve ever seen in my life. In my life? My eyes caught her in disbelief. Let’s rewind that comment. I mean, the most fuckable woman I’ve seen in the past four months, to be exact. This working on my penthouse with no distractions is starting to take a toll on me.

She exuded sensuality like perfume, and it was so hard for me to control my instincts. Lost in my thoughts, I knew I had to look at her, and even if she noticed, I just couldn’t help myself. Her big eyes, small round breasts, tiny little waist, long legs... I didn’t have any words to describe her soo perfect body, and then I stopped. What the fuck are those shoes? They look filthy.

I was going to say something when her phone rang. She looked at the screen, and I saw how her face went from disbelief to surprise and sadness in a matter of seconds.

Not even an Oscar actress could pull that off. She was either giving the performance of a lifetime or was dealing with bipolar disorder. She kept going red. Please don’t be mentally unstable; you are very hot.

My mind was already debating whether she was crazy-hot or crazy-crazy at this point. Then, her left eye started to tic. Is she about to cry? What the fuck is happening?

“Mother fucker” she said with such anger that her head looked like it was going to explode. Then she cried to the ceiling: “THIS MOTHER FUUUCKER!”.

I took one step back, no way she was going to kill me after that anger management episode. My thoughts were racing out of control.

Oh, no! This girl is crazy, Like crazy-crazy. Like an actual loony. I calmed myself, but I couldn’t believe my brother was associated with

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