Arrangement for Miseria - Eternity Rain (book series for 12 year olds .txt) 📗

PROLOUGE
England, 1991
Thursday, July 9th
Two months after Miseria’s birth

“Donovan, are you sure about this? Shouldn’t we atleast wait until they are both old enough to decide for themselves?” Elaine Machio asked her husband as she slid her arms around his bare waist to lay her head against his warm chest.
“Yes, Elly, I’m sure. They will be perfect together. And you know it’s the only way to ensure Mark’s daughter is taken care of like I promised, and it also insures that Tristan will have an heir. Tristan will have no objections, you know he will do as we ask of him.” Donovan said, wrapping an arm around his petite wife’s waist and slid his other hand up and down her back to sooth her.
“I know, and I trust you. It’s just that I think Tristan and the young girl should marry for love, not for an heir, or protection! They should marry the people they love, like we did!” Elly exclaimed, pulling away from him and lifting her small chin, her olive tinted cheeks flushed.
“I do too, but I promised Mark and I will keep my promise. Besides, Tristan is going to love her plenty if she is anything like her mother! If I wasn’t in love with you I would probably be interested in Maria, but I’m not. But if Marks daughter is anything like Maria, then there will be no reason for Tristan not to love her!”
“Donovan-!”
“Enough! I have made my decision already. This is not a topic for conversation anymore, Elaine!”
“Fine, then you can warm your own bed tonight!” Elaine said, storming out of the large bedroom, scowlding.
Shaking his head Donovan could only hope his wife would come to accept his decision. He had no intention of changing his mind, not after promising Mark that his daughter would be taken care of.
And, Donovan thought calmly, Donovan Machio always kept his promises. No matter what anyone said.


CHAPTER ONE
America, 2009
Monday, May 17
Two days after Miseria’s birthday

"Miss. Brimstone, is there a good reason for why you are sleeping in my class?" A high pitched, and very annoyed, voice said, rousing Seria from sleep.
"Well, I guess it has to do with your math class being so boring, and that I didn't sleep last night." Seria said, giving her teacher her arrogant 'You can't touch me.' grin.
"Out!" Ms. Lany said, scrunching up her botox filled face in annoyance.
"Sure thing." Seria said, walking to the door and saluting the other students. "Good luck in jail." She said, earning laughter and a gasp of indignation.
"Out, now! To the principals office!" Her teacher said, narrowing ice blue eyes at Seria's own chocolate brown ones. Tossing her straight, dark brown hair behind her defiantly she grinned. "Of course, Ms. Lany. Anything for the botox queen!" With that Seria kicked the door shut behind her and took off down the hall, heading for the stairs.
She had no intention of going to the principals office, not when he was still stewing from the disaster that had been his anniversary a week before. The poor guy had walked into his home two hours early to find his wife in bed with his older brother. And of course everyone else in town had known about the affair for months and just couldn't make themselves tell him. Poor sap, she thought to herself.


Taking out her mp3 player she stuck the black headphones in her ears and turned on the last song she had listened to. Turning the music up on full blast she opened the door to the stairwell and started her walk down the three flights of stairs. Patting her hands against her legs she wished she had her sketchbook. She hated to be without it but she wasn’t aloud to bring it to the school with her.
Shifting her backpack on her shoulder she listened to Pink’s song "Pretty pretty please". She had never really cared what people thought of her, and never thought less of herself because of their opinions. Suddenly, thanks to her tight jeans pocket, the song changed to "Maybe" by the sick puppies. One side of her mouth twitching up in an exasperated smile she pulled out her mp3 player and searched her songs for one to change it to, not watching where she was going. Clicking play when "Jar of hearts" came into view, she didn't notice the tall, frowning, teen boy heading toward her with his eyes closed and scrunched up like he had a headache.
Lifting her head, she collided head first with his chest and landed on her butt on the steps in front of him. Her face going red she ignored the slight pain in her rear as the guy leaned over and helped her stand.
"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you!" He said, his voice holding the slightest of British accents.
"Uomini!" She mumbled under her breath. "It's fine, I'm okay." She said louder.
"Now look here, lady, I apologized!" He said, sounding insulted.
"And I said it was fine!" She said, confused.
"Donne!" He mumbled, scolding at her with narrowed grey blue eyes.
"Aspetta un attimo, lei parla italiano?" She asked, gaping a him.
"Sì, proprio come voi." He said, smirking.
"Watch it pal, I don't like smart mouths!" She warned, smiling at him. It had been a long time since she had spoken Italian with someone besides her mother, and this little meeting gave her a chance to show off. "Allora, qual è il tuo nome, straniero? Perché sei sicuro non guardare italiano a me."
"I'm only one third Italian, that’s true, but the blood is there. And my name? I am Tristan, it means bold, rash...shameless." He said as he grinned down at her. "And yours?"
"Guess." She said, starting down the stairs with him following her.
"Mia?" He asked, smirking. The smirk didn't meet his irritated but slightly amused eyes.
"Guess again." She commanded, grinning.
"Daphne?" He asked, his smirk faltering.
"Nope. Try again, Tristan." She said, smirking smugly.
"Kara?"
"Wrong."
"Allison?" Tristan's voice was right behind her, and very annoyed.
"Wrong again." She said, walking out the door at the bottom of the steps. Starting across the parking lot she pulled her skate board out of her bag.
"At least give me a hint!" He pleaded, his face curious.
"Ok..., it's not an English name." She said, grinning evilly before pushing with her foot and rolling off.


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Tristan Machio watched in awe as the dark haired beauty rolled out of site of her skateboard. Turning around and heading back up the stairs he silently reprimanded himself for flirting with her when he was hear to pick up his fiancée. Given, he had flirted and insinuated lots with plenty of women, but he was here on business and that girl with chocolate brown eyes was not that business! No matter how much he wished she were....
Shaking his head of short, blond hair, he tried to redirect his thoughts to that of his bride to be. She was supposed to be in a math class or something of the sort. He wouldn't know, he thought, since he had been taught at home by tutors of all types. Grimacing he thought that the skateboarder girl had probably been ditching her class. Not that he blamed her, everyone hated school when they looked as tired as she did.
"That girl really should get some more sleep." He said aloud, his brow furrowing with worry. Surprised, he froze. Worry? He was Tristan Machio, Prince Tristan Machio! He didn't worry about girls he met only moments before, especially ones that looked to be about as stubborn and hard headed as a mule! Not that Mystery Girl was ugly, no, she was beautiful. Long, dark, wavy brown hair, big warm chocolate brown eyes, features on her face that proclaimed her Indian and Italian heritage, and full dark lips on a mouth that widened into the most startlingly small white teeth that were perfectly straight.
Cursing under his breath Tristan tried to stop thinking about her, whoever she was it was obvious she wasn't his fiancée. And that was who he was here to see, he told himself as he walked up to the classroom door that was wide open. Apparently the class had ended moments before. A small blond woman sat behind the largest desk grading papers. Knocking on the door he smiled down at her.
"Hello, Madame. My name is Tristan Machio, I was wondering if you could help me?" He asked, smiling down at her as recognition of his name triggered a wide eyed, breathless look.
"O-of course! My n-name is A-Allison Lany. H-how may I h-help you, Mr. Machio?" The blond asked, taking in a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself. Then again it couldn't be everyday a Prince from England walked into her class room.
"Wonderful! I'm looking for a young girl, probably a year or two younger than myself. Her name is Miseria Brimstone, do you know where I can find her?" He asked, smiling down at her again.
"Seria Brimstone? What could you possibly want with that disobedient, hardheaded, lazy, and just plain rude girl?" Allison Lany asked, the disgust in her voice mingling with sheer shock.
"Seria Brimstone, her phone number, and her address. What I have to do with the girl is of no importance to you, Ms. Lany." He said frostily, narrowing his eyes at her. She may not have known it but she had just insulted his fathers best friends daughter. And that did not bode well for her if she was intending to do anything other than scrub floors. Still frowning at her he took the file folder she offered and left the school, still fuming over the unrealized attack at his fathers most trusted friends daughter.