Wicked Savage Cruel by Daniela Romero EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Daniela Romero
- Language: English
- Genre: Sports Romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
“Alejandra you’re going to be late for school.” Janessa calls out using
my full name. I sigh and choose to ignore her. She won’t think
anything of it. She’s done her job and informed me of the time, as
I’m sure my father instructed her to do. My father. Thinking of Gerald Ulrich
as anything aside from an absolute and total stranger just feels … weird.
I worry my bottom lip and stare at my reflection in the floor-length mirror,
bracing myself for what will be my first day at a new school, in a new town,
with a new family. Because clearly, my life wasn’t hard enough.
Tears prick my eyes but I blink hard to clear them. Come on, Allie. Hold it
together. I refuse to allow myself to cry. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not
If I do, I’m not sure I’ll ever stop.
Sucking in a shuddering breath, I take in my appearance. I look okay, I guess.
Except the girl staring back at me is nothing like the Alejandra Ramirez I’ve
been the past seventeen years. She looks preppier. Richer. Honestly, the girl
staring back at me looks like a stuck-up bitch.
I look nothing like me. I’m wearing a pair of white skinny jeans that are all
but painted onto my body and a soft pink floral top. It has sheer flowing
sleeves and exposes a thin strip of my tanned midriff. It’s beyond feminine. If
my best friend Julio could see me now, he’d probably keel over laughing.
This is not my look.
Not that anyone here cares.
Back home, I would have gone to school in ripped jeans, a vintage band tee
with an oversized hoodie, and a pair of black K-Swiss sneakers. White if I
felt like being fancy that day. It would have been okay to toss my hair into a
messy bun and wear my gold hoop earrings with winged eyeliner and little
else as far as makeup was concerned. Hell, most days I didn’t bother with
even the eyeliner. I’d always been a bit of a tomboy. I was still a tomboy.
Though looking at me now, you’d never know it.
But last week when I met my bio-dad, he took one look at me in his polished
gray suit and disgust quickly curled his upper lip. Being a tomboy was
unacceptable. I needed to look the part, as Janessa—his personal assistant—
had reminded me on, so far, three separate occasions in the same number of
days. I am Gerald Ulrich’s daughter, not some chola from the wrong side of
town. Gerald is a prominent member of his community. Gerald is a
businessman. Gerald has a flashy car and money and probably only carries
black credit cards in his wallet.
His daughter needs to hold herself to certain standards.
Bring on the eye roll and insert an insane amount of sarcasm here.
Until a week ago, I’d been his estranged and forgotten daughter.
Not since my mom died.
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