Aliyana

“Don't give me that fucking bullshit. Where the fuck were you Aliyana?” Who the fuck does he think he is? He has no right to ask me questions.

I shrug, “I have been standing here, in the garden for the last ten minutes.” I finish as his angry snarly face looks down at me, blocking the suns rays with his broad shoulders. Shoulders I have imagined naked, wondered how the flesh of it will feel under my fingers. Shoulders that were supposed to be mine to touch.

Camilla Moretti doesn't have to wonder. That thought has my impassive face, twitching in what I know looks like a fuck you look.

“Don't push me little girl, answer the question.” His voice is clipped, but I know he won't hurt me. Not here at least.

I want to tell him I wasn't a little girl when he had his hands on my body, his tongue in my mouth. But my words tend to die. Why fuel an already burning flame?

“I had plans.” Meetings to tend to.