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I sit in the front seat of my father's Porsche. The cool AC blows on my sweltering skin as we assemble in the deserts of Arizona. I sit in the white Chanel dress with black trim. I lower my sunglasses seeing my father speak to the generals. The men armed with rifles and military vehicles fill the space.
I push up the thick black shades and smooth down my silk press, my long hair goes behind my ear as I push my hand against the AC. A sigh escapes my lips. My expensive heels are being hit with dust as 3 black vehicles arrive. The man of the fucking hour. I was pissed. Do you think I want to be around a bunch of arrogant men while they play with grenades in the name of America while dying in the fucking desert in Chanel?! Fuck that all the way.
I had better things to do.
Better things I could do.
The men get out of the vehicle and one is met with the most attention. I see my father look at me and I slightly tilt my shades down. "Get over here." he swings his hand as I read his lips. My eyes roll before I put on my shades and leave the vehicle.
I walk towards the men. He was tall, with khaki pants and a black collared shirt. From the back, his hair appeared curly, dark as Cain. He had a strong build. I pushed up my sunglasses to the top of my head, seeing the defined muscles in his back and the broadness of his shoulders. He turns.
His thick dark eyebrows slightly raised, and his soft pink lips parted to speak, but no words escaped. I loved that. His eyes were covered by the black YSL shades. He raises his sunglasses, dark blue eyes travel from my heels to my hair as he gazes like a hound. This man was sinful, his tattooed hand rubbed over his goatee as he stared at me in my eyes. Moles covered his smooth caramel skin, tattoos covering his entire left arm. This felt like forever.
I didn't mind, this man was a creation of God. The gold around his neck and wrists. Who even was he? "Solana." I hold out my hand. He takes it. "Sinclair." I smile, and a slight smile comes onto his lips. I feel his thumb slightly stroke the back of my hand and I squeeze his tight, tugging his hand slightly closer to me.
I didn't like that. I always required respect, even in the smallest of ways. My father told me that handshakes were important. I wanted to start being taken more seriously, business-wise. I was smart, went to school for business and finance, and graduated with my bachelor's. My father owned an investment company.
I didn't know much about his world besides that he controlled everything, economy-wise. I wanted to step up to the plate. Our relationship was strained. His smiling demeanor fades "Vincenzo." He squeezed my hand firmly, tugging it back towards him in the slightest.
I firmly shake his hand and drop it. "Vincenzo is great" My father squeezes his shoulder. This man doesn't take his eyes off of me. "Tell her about yourself, she doesn't bite. At times." My father puts him on the spot and I tilt my head, looking at him.
