Chapter 1

Rich girl. The first thing that comes to a person's mind when they hear those two words are, spoiled, daddy's girl, slut, designer labels, ditzy, you get the picture. I'm a rich girl. A rich girl that meets none of these stereotypes.

Okay well first off you probably want to know my name; it's Emma Tavor. Now let me explain why I don't fit these stereotypes. Some would say that I'm spoiled because I live in a large house filled with many, many expensive things. To me being spoiled means that you can get whatever you want. Now don't get me wrong, I can, but you're only spoiled if you take advantage of this, which I don't.

Next, I am the farthest thing from a daddy's girl. How can you be a daddy's girl if daddy is never home because he's always away on business trips? Exactly, you can't be. As for the whole slut thing, I am about as far from it as possible. I am a seventeen year old virgin. Not only a virgin, but never had a boyfriend and never been kissed. I will admit that I do own some designer labeled things, but I do not have an entire closet full of clothes designed by Marc Jacobs, Chloe, Versace, or Dolce and Gabbana. I have one pair of Gucci sunglasses; not twenty; one pair of Chloe jeans, not thirty, and one Versace dress, but only because of some party my dad made me go to.

Lastly, I am NOT some dumb, ditzy, blonde (no offense to blondes) that carries around a miniature dog in a purse. One I'm not blonde, I have dark brown, straight hair that hangs around my shoulders. Two, I'm not much of a dog person, and three, I have a 3.8 grade point average thank you very much. Now that I have officially defended why I am not your average rich girl, let's move one.

"Emma!" My mom called.

"Coming!" I yelled back to her jogging down the stairs in a pair of baggy sweatpants and an old white T-shirt.

Standing at the bottom of the steps was a lady with platinum blonde hair, that was obviously died, dressed in a pair of designer Chloe jeans with a designer Chloe shirt to match. She had long French manicured nails, her fingers and neck dripped with diamonds, and her teeth were so white they could blind a person. This was my mom.

"Yeah?" I asked reaching the last step.

"Your father just called and said that he was hosting a party tonight and you were to attend. He shipped this dress with instructions to wear it. The party starts in an hour so go get ready." My mom said as she shoved a large white box into my hands.

"Great." I mumbled under my breath as I jogged back up the stairs and into my room.

I loved my room. It was completely and totally me. It had peach colored walls, with cream colored carpet, and it smelled like vanilla. I walked over and sat down on my large bed that was covered in silk pillows to match the walls and carpet, and opened the box.

Okay I know I said I only had one Versace dress but now I have two. My parents were very into the rich lavish lifestyle. They loved to spend outrageous amounts of money on something you could easily find thousands of dollars cheaper, but to the rich community labels are everything.

The dress that had been bought for me was a satin, royal blue, floor length, Versace dress. It tied around the neck and was slim through the bust and waist and then

flowed loosely at the end. I slipped out of my baggy sweatpants to reveal a pair of black short shorts with the word panther printed on the butt. It was my old high school mascot. I had just graduated from Beverly Hills High a week ago. That's right I live in Bev. Hills.

I climbed out of the rest of my clothes and pulled on the new dress. It was a perfect fit. I was actually surprised that my ever-disappearing father knew what size I wore. I am rather small for my age. I actually wear a size 4. I know most girls would kill for my body but I don't care. I was born like this. In don't barf or eat a cracker a day and I hate when I hear people calling me anorexic or bulimic. I would never do that to my body, I know better.

Inside the box I noticed were a pair of silver heels with matching diamond earrings. I pulled the heels onto my small feet and hooked the diamonds on my ears. I walked to the mirror and looked at myself.

"Good enough." I said shrugging my shoulders.

I turned to go into my bathroom to do my hair and make up when I noticed the tag still attached to the dress. I pulled it off and to my horror read $18,000. Good God! I could have fed a starving third world country with this dress! Shaking my head I walked into the bathroom and straightened a few unruly pieces of my hair. I quickly brushed on some blush and some very discreet eye-shadow. I thought my dark brown eyes looked fine without make up. Quickly swiping some light pink lip-gloss on, I grabbed my silver clutch purse and headed downstairs.

"Ready." I called to my mom who was waiting by the door wearing a white Dolce and Gabana dress and dripping in diamonds.

"Oh Emma you look so pretty." She said as she glanced up and then opened the door.

We both walked outside and crawled into the limousine that would take us to the party. I, unlike my mother, thanked our driver, Ralph, before he shut the door. Twenty minutes later I found myself getting out of the car and looking at a large building. Numerous people were standing outside all drowning in their own self-absorbed attitude and riches.

My mother left about oh I would say three seconds after we arrived to go talk to some of 'her people', leaving me by myself. I wandered into the large building and found my dad standing in the middle of a large group of men talking in low serious tones. As I approached he shot them all warning looks and they stopped talking.

"Emma, honey how are you?" he asked embracing me.

"Fine." I replied shortly.

"Good, good. Why don't you go introduce yourself to some of the guest." He suggested. This was his way of telling me to go away so he could talk.

That was the last time I saw my dad that night. For the remainder of the night I talked to a few people who said they knew my father, mostly men. I had to dance with a few boys that were my age or older. I didn't want to but me being the polite person I am, couldn't turn them down.

At the end of the night my feet were about to break, from the evil heels, and I was tired. I left by myself, my father said he had business matter to attend to and my mom was as drunk as a skunk, as were her friends, so she wanted to stay longer. Ralph drove me home and then left saying something about how he had to go wait for my parents.

I walked into my house and took off my heels before climbing the stairs. There was no way I was climbing those in these monsters. I padded up the stairs and down the hallway to my room. I opened the door and slipped into the darkness. Flipping on the lights I walked into my bathroom I thought that I saw a shadow, but when I turned around there was nothing there.

Not giving it a second thought I walked into the bathroom and closed the door. I was about to jump into the shower when I realized that I had forgotten to bring a change of clothes in with me. I stepped out of my bathroom and made my way over to my closet. Once again I could have swore saw a shadow, but still nothing. I turned back around to my closet to get my pajamas.

The next thing I know there is a large hand covering my mouth. I scream but it comes out as a muffled whisper. Out of the corner of my eye I see another person. He is a large man, roughly 6'3 and he is wearing all black. I scream again and the person holding me spins me around.

"Shut up! No one can hear you, Mommy and Daddy are at the party and no one else is home." Came a harsh deep voice.

The man holding me was completely cloaked in black, just like the other man. The only part of his body I could see was his piercing deep green eyes. He was taller than the other man, by a few inches, probably around 6'6. This of course silenced me out of fear. I was small weighing only 109 pounds and only stood 5'4. He looked into my eyes as if telling me that he would kill me if I said a word.

I found myself being flung over his shoulder and being carried down the steps towards the front door. Now don't think I didn't put a fight, I did. I fought like hell! I pounded my fist into his back, kicked my feet against his chest, tried to bite his hand that was still around my mouth, and thrashed around as much as possible.

"DAMNIT! Hold still!" He ordered.

"What's wrong, can't handle a little girl?" The other masked man asked his accomplice.

"Shut up!" He said as he thrust open the door and walked outside followed by the other man

This is when it officially dawned on me. I saw a black van waiting at the end of the drive and running with another man inside in the driver's seat. I was being kidnapped. As I was carried towards the van I put all of my energy into fighting the man holding me. Do you know how hard it is to fight in a Versace dress? Not easy. Unfortunately this did absolutely nothing except make the man walk towards the van faster.

The second man through open the back doors and I was roughly thrown in. By the time I could get to my feet the door was slammed shut on me, and they were already climbing into the front.

"This the one?" The man in the driver's seat questioned.

"Yeah that's her." The man who had carried me answered.

"Let me go!" I screamed at the three men.

"Not a chance."

"Who the hell are you?" Not waiting for an answer I started to tug on the door and bang on the windows screaming.

"Shut her up!" The driver yelled as he pulled out onto the street.

The man with the green eyes reached back and grabbed my arm pulling me towards him. He had a white cloth in his hand and he placed it over my nose and mouth. I knew what it was and held my breath.

"You can't hold your breath forever." He said with arrogance in his voice.

I was quickly running out of air so I did what I had to do, I breathed. The last thing I remember was the man saying, "You have your daddy to thank for this." Then I was out cold.