I Can't Love you, Mr. President

Two

The press seemingly loved the glitz and glamour of a blue, black, and silver-themed party, taking multiple pictures and asking nerve-racking questions. Of course, Nina and I took quite some pictures outside in front of the well-decorated navy blue carpet, all coming out gorgeous.

It was a sight to behold indeed, although a lot of people hadn't arrived just yet or I was overestimating the supposed turn up, after all, it was a cordial strict invitation only.

“I'll catch you later, love,” Nina greeted me, giving me double pecks on my cheeks before running towards the grand piano.

I scanned the scenery, admiring dresses and greeting a few who had acknowledged or recognized me. It was a wonderful evening indeed so far, our grand pianist making it a splendid one as she played through the night.

“Azura the artist,” a man in a Kiton k-50 suit approached me. I recognized the brand because it was much too common amongst the degenerates that approached Nina or me, thinking we'll ride their c***s once they cockily mention the price.

“And who might you be?” I asked in my most formal voice with my chin high.

“Son of the Prime Minister of Italy, Enzo Caputo,” he stretched his hand out for a handshake, I took his damp hand in a soft handshake, subtly wiping the glove down with a napkin. He smirked haughtily, “Aren't you a fine piece?”

He was nearly like a stout bottle, standing at least four inches shorter than me, even with the heels that didn't compare to the others at this event. Dark hair that grey hairs had begun to sprout from, deep blue eyes that gave him a boyish look, and the cane he held gave him quite the ‘mismanaged finances’ aura.

“Almost as fine as my works some would say,” I said bluntly.

“I would say a lot more fascinating than your most valued,” he flattered, the smirk on his face growing larger.

“I'm flattered,” I said, my face still, making his suspicious grin fall as he noticed I had no interest in his flattery.

“Why is someone like you alone at such an event?” He continued. I thought he'd take a hint and leave me alone, but he might have thicker skin than I expected.

I took one more sip of my champagne, watching with pleasure as he stared at me expectantly for an answer, “I came with my friend, she's the very lovely pianist cramping her beautiful fingers for our entertainment.”

“Isn't that lovely? I–”

“Indeed,” I interrupted, taking yet another sip of my champagne, inconveniently the last one, my eyes scanning the room for one of the boys to arrive with another.

“You're truly a masterpiece, Ms. Kourus,” he said.

“How lovely a compliment, you want me bright red tonight I can see,” I flashed a forced smile.

“It doesn't seem to be working though, deep fear my advances might be futile.”

“Advances?” I raised an eyebrow.

“I don't believe you're oblivious to why I'm standing before you, Azura,” how I longed to slap that cocky grin on his face.

“I simply thought you came for a nice chat. I don't remember permitting you to refer to me by my first name, Mr. Caputo,” I said bluntly, keeping my composure and firm voice with my chin up.

“Who are you wearing tonight, Ms. Kourus? You look ravishing,” he asked, his face falling slightly after my statement gave me some satisfaction.

“Pardon me,” I flashed a smile and posed for a camera that pointed at me, “It is actually a customized piece from my special tailor, I dare not be regular for such an event, no?”

“Of course not,” he smiled, “Ravishing as always.”

“Who are you wearing, Mr. Caputo?” I asked the question I knew his mouth had been tingling to answer.

“This is a Kiton k-50 suit,” he posed slightly while adjusting it, showing off the watch too, “and a customized Chopard.”

“How lovely,” I said sarcastically, hoping he didn't catch it. These rich, perverted men are all the same, all the same fashion, the same way of showing off, same personal shopper, same brainwashing.

It was truly exhausting how most of them have been tailored into this life since they were born like the dunce, he's been swimming in wealth since diaper days.

A large portion of the mentally stemmed from the fact that they misused it to go after women, the smaller part was jealous because that was definitely not my case. I grew up an orphan, moving from foster home to foster home till I found one willing to fund my studies after so much at the other houses.

Deep inside me, I hated the fact they had it so easy, I wished I did, I chose to believe everyone that toiled from the ground up had felt that way before.

“Alright, I'm just going to come right out and say it. You’re intoxicatingly gorgeous, drop dead, hardworking–”

“You took a Master in flattery, Mr. Caputo,” I interrupted, hoping he'd take the hint to stop before he embarrasses himself.

“Anyway…I would like to know you a bit more, take you to the more sandy lands so we could become at least on a first-name basis,” he smirked.

“Excuse my vulgar, but I'm not one of your little street whores who trip over sandy trip promises,” I said in a calm yet cold tone, staring at him right in the eyes with a small grin.

“I am quite sure I can afford you, Azura,” he said as a matter of fact.

I sighed with a grin, raising my chin higher, “Afford some Botox first, your forehead lines are like those on an African bush elephant,” I smiled.

He clenched his jaw, his teeth jammed together, it face me nothing but joy as his anger increased, his pale skin turning a bright red, “This attitude would leave you single till 60 I hope you realize that. I could as we change your life yet you reject me.”

“Being single doesn't bother me in the slightest, I will rather be single than walk around with a ring on my finger from a man who throws money at my face yet sleeps with everything with a slit between their legs,” I said through gritted teeth, composing myself afterwards by clearing my throat, keeping my chin high with a small smile, “Do have a lovely rest of your evening, Mr. Caputo,” I raised my glass slightly, placing it to my lips.

He walked away angrily and I watched as he moved to another dark-haired girl across the floor, stealing glances at me but I paid no attention.

“Why do you always have to be so dismissive?” I heard a familiar voice rush up to me. I turned on my heel to find the gaze of my darling brown-haired friend, beaming a smile at me.

“Aurora!” I smiled, for the first time this evening genuinely, engulfed in her warm embrace, “You look ravishing, the blue compliments you so well! How do you do?”

“I'm great, my lovely artist, and thank you, you look even better than me tonight. I had a hell of a week so I figured I'd look rather tattered tonight, came with no one but once I saw you across the hall I had to rush by,” she chatted, her perfect dentition shining right at me, “I see you cane with Nina, she's truly a goddess on the piano.”

“She truly is!” I giggled, clinking my glass with hers, “How're the kids?” I randomly asked.

“Oh they travelled with their father to Mauritius for the summer actually, I would tag along probably next week after I finish off with things at the office,” she smiled, “Enough about me, how're you? Your speciality is making young chaps run away angrily, huh?”

“He's a professional at flattery, he'll definitely cope,” I shrugged, “Simply wasn't my type, I prefer my men unable to flatter every woman they lay eyes on so well. That will be terrible.”

“I agree,” she nodded, taking another sip of the champagne.

“But you have it all, I honestly wish for your love life. He perfectly compliments your radiance, respectfully, hates everyone else that isn't you, it's perfect,” I said.

“It can't possibly be all roses and daisies but I will say I am extremely lucky, especially after seeing what other men do, I can spot at least ten of them here who are married to supermodels. What a pity,” she shook her head dramatically.

“Indeed a pity. Anyway, I don't care for the folly of ‘it’s never all roses and daisies’. I need perfect, I run on it and it needs to be so before I settle. Unless I simply wouldn't,” I shrugged.

“I didn't expect less, my artist,” we giggled, taking yet another cheer. The champagne had crept its way up to my senses after a few glasses, deciding to sit as the ball began to become hazy.

It was finally time for the welcoming after a while when everyone had arrived, the hall seeming a bit fuller now. The coordinator thanked everyone for coming before calling the host to give a speech.

My heart stopped in my chest as the man who was supposedly the host stepped up to the crowd, a round of applause followed after. He looked like art himself, shoulder-length dark hair flowed over his simple navy blue suit, excreting pure elegance with his neat goatee and exquisite style.

It was unique, like a breath of fresh air to the cliché men all around, who I knew might have been jealous of him. As he spoke, his voice tender yet deep and authoritative, I remembered why he had looked so familiar.

He was the guy I bumped into at my shoot.