Chapter 1: He's A Potential Psycho

Have you ever wanted to be rich beyond belief?

Be an heiress swimming in cash?

You think it would be totally easy living a life where you had enough money to buy yourself a private island. So did I. In fact, I was on Cloud 9. I had it made. There seemed to be nothing that could go wrong. With my parent's wealth and status, there was very little to complain about.

I loved my life.

That is…until my parents dropped the hugest news on me.


"We've found a suitable husband for you, Aimee."

It was at that exact moment that the magazine in my hands plummeted to the ground, my eyes wide in shock at my mother and father.

My dad was wearing that same emotionless mask of his. My mother was the same. I don't know why she used all that botox. She was actually quite pretty for her age.

"Aimee, dear," My mother, Lucia, said. "We know you're probably confused, but listen to what your father has to say."

"It's time you got married." My father continued.

I stared at him, blankly for a few seconds, waiting for him to continue more, but he just stood stonily.

Was that it? Was that his whole explanation? Geez. Talk about the bare minimum.

"Dad," I started, slowly, after realizing he wasn't going to elaborate more. "I'm only 16."

"So was your sister, Elsia." My mom pointed out. "And she is rather smitten with Frederick."

I should have been expecting this. Sooner or later, I knew that I was to be carted off to marry some rich corporate mogul's son, where I'd live a fairly unsatisfying life and eventually die.

Yes, I know. I'm such a positive person. But, it's true. The only reason for these marriages was to make company ties and babies.

"Why don't I get to choose like Elsia?" I argued. "What if the guy you picked is some kind of weirdo?"

His face stayed void, but there was a bit of annoyance laced in his tone. "Well, it wouldn't matter if he was a serial killer, Aimee. You'd still be marrying him. We need to tie Berkley Diamonds™ with Schechter Clothing™."

I scrunched my nose in thought. "Schechter Clothing?? I've never heard of them."

"They're an edgy up-and-coming clothing company centered in Germany." My dad explained. "It would be good for us to tie ourselves to them in the public's eyes. It'd make for excellent business. They're held quite highly over seas and are predicted to be very popular over here."

"This is bullshit! I don't want to marry some foreign freak that I had no choice in picking!"

"Aimee Berkley!" My mother scolded. "You watch your language in this house."

I just folded my arms across my chest. Usually, I don't cuss, but my temper got the best of me. I wanted to yell some more, but knew better after seeing the angry glint in my father's eyes.

"He's arriving here tomorrow, so I want you up and ready to greet him. Understood?"

"Yes, dad."

So that is how I ended up seated next to my best friend of all time, Tiffany Levoure. Her family created this hoity-toity expensive fragrance that all of elite Hollywood buys.

"OH MY GOD!" Tiffany screamed. "You're marrying someone from Schechter Clothing!" Her green eyes flashed, brightly. "I'm so jealous! Their clothes are totally cute…"

"Tiff, I don't even know his name."

I was sprawled across my bed, petting my grey, tiger-cat, Spaz. He was only two months old and had already chewed through four iPod cords. Currently, he was biting one of the stuffed animals from my closet. The poor, little stuffed rabbit already had an ear torn off.

I sighed and propped myself up on my elbows. "What if he's really creepy? Like, what if he's a psycho? I told my dad that and he didn't believe me."

Tiffany rolled her eyes. "Aimee, he's probably not a crazy. Here," She clicked out of the Solitaire game she was badly losing and pulled up the internet. "We'll look up your fiancé."

She googled the Schechter website and read the 'About Us' section of the site. I clung to the computer screen. It's only natural. I wanted to know who this boy was that I would be forced with for the rest of my life.

"Ooo. Look at this!!" Tiffany exclaimed and pointed to a sentence in the black and red text-box on the page. "He models for the clothing line. So that means he has to be somewhat good-looking then."

"Tiff, my god. Just find a pic of him already."

"Ok Ok. Calm down." Her eyes scanned the page. "Here he is... Nikolaus "Benji" Schechter."

I clasped my hands over my face when Tiffany let out a deafening scream. Seriously, that girl is so loud. The complete opposite of me.

He must've been been horribley ugly if Tiff screamed that loud. I opened my eyes slowly, bracing myself for the horror.

"OH MY FUCKING GOD!" I shrieked.

I'm not trying to exaggerate, but it was horrible. Horrible, I tell you.

Tiffany grabbed my hands and started jumping around with a huge smile on her face. "Holy shit, Aimee. He is GORGEOUS!!"

"What the hell?" I ripped my hands away from her. "What do mean 'he's gorgeous'? He is so not cute."

Benji Schechter was so NOT my type.

In the picture, he was wearing the most tight-ass jeans I'd ever seen. I'm talking about tighter than Pete Wentz's pants. His dark brown eyes were outlined thickly with red and black eyeliner. A little cocky smirk donned his face as one of his hands ruffled his messy black hair, his tongue playing with his lip-ring.

I know it's kind of stupid, but I have some standards. I had expected my parents to set me up with some suave Orlando Bloom look-a-like, not some emo-looking german.

I buried my face in my pillow and groaned. "This sucks."

Tiffany poked me. "I don't know why you're complaining, Aimee. He's definently blessed when it comes to looks." She tapped her finger to her chin in thought. "You know who he kind of reminds me of? One of those fellows from My Chemical Romance. Style-wise."

"Oh great." I mumbled, sarcastically.

"I wish I could meet him tomorrow. " She continued. "You better call me after you meet him. I want to know ALL the details."

"I will. Now get out of my house. You don't want to be late for your date with Robbie or whatever the heck is name is."

She smiled. "Actually, it's Johnny, now. I broke up with Robbie last night. He was such a bore."

Not surprising. Tiff treated guys like ice cream. Once she got tired of the flavor, she stopped buying. Unfortunantly, she could never find a guy that she was into for longer than 4 days.

After Tiffany left, I collapsed back into my bed and picked up a disgruntled Spaz.

"Argh, this is stupid, Spaz."

I moved him, so I was holding him from under his arms and held him a foot away from my face. Spaz stared at me. His eyes dialated and his little, furry, grey face was wide in wonder.

He swatted at my face and I put him down. "Wow. I'm pathetic. I'm talking to a cat."

My clock read 10:30 PM.

Only 10 hours til my judgement day.