The Millionaire's Goofball

Chapter 3

Christian POV

"Yes Sierra. The penne parmesan, asparagus, lobster bisque, and the mini molten lava desserts.

Those are Vasilisa's favorites."

Thanking my personal chef of five years, I hang up the phone and go back to sorting my

documents by date, alphabet, and relevance.

I smile thinking of Lisa. She comes to mind almost every time I organize. Coincidentally, it's

because she is the least organized person I know.

Her clothes litter the floor if I don't put them in the hamper. Her vanity in our room would look

like a hurricane hit it if I didn't organize it. Even her hair would be a whirlwind of a mess if I

didn't run a brush through it for her at night.

Despite her clutter, she keeps me sane. Before I met her the day she climbed all the way up a

lampost "like Mulan" she claimed, everything was perfect. Too perfect.

The oversized house and my entire world was completely lifeless. I felt like a robot, on autopilot:

Made to function without a single hitch.

Vasilisa, though I can't fathom what she is thinking or doing at most times, is able to bring me a

sense of peace and security. Watching her run around places and think a mile a minute is

fascinating. I can't imagine my life without her.

This is why I'm going to marry her.

I know she's wondering why she hasn't had to come to dinner with my family before, but

honestly, I didn't want to hurt her feelings.

She's so happy and lively, but her anxiety is through the roof.

That's why I had to let her know I was going to propose soon.

The first time my parents caught even the smallest glimpse of her at the first and only party I

took her to, they disapproved.

They hadn't even spoken, but she was already being judged more harshly than anyone should

ever be.

I remember my parents words clearly as they watched her from a few feet away.

Unpoised was one of the words they used. They said she lacked class, the low cut of her dress

that I adored apparently showing to much to the world.

They judged her hair, complaining about how the perfect dark brown strands needed highlights.

They said her skin was too pale, even though it was fall and she hadn't been in the sun for at least

a month.

They attacked her posture, which was fine. She just wasn't trying to look like a waddling duck

with her chest out and butt flexed like everyone else. Everything about her comes naturally and

it's beautiful.

She was simply perfect without even trying to be, but my family didn't accept that.

She said hello, and they judged her for not following the customary written speaking lines for

upper class snobs.

Generally she would have said, "Hello, I'm Vasilisa, it's a pleasure to meet you."

But it wasn't a pleasure and it never will be.

She wasn't raised in my world and that's what I love most about her.

I only hope that we can make it through this dinner so that she and my family could at least be

civil.

Tonight really needs to go well. As much as my family and I may not be close or get along all

that well, I still would like them to be present when I propose tonight.