Cleo Miranda Adams is a part-time clerk at a small antique shop and an aspiring guitarist. Music has been part of her life since birth. After a tough loss, she focuses on building a name for herself and doing what she loves.
Billionaire and perfecti...
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She made comfortable look good. The jeans hugged her legs perfectly, and the cashmere jacket was just the right shade against her skin. I think she noticed me shamelessly checking her out.
"So, are you going to tell me where we're going now?" She asks. I turn to look at her face, which glows with curiosity and confusion while I swerve through the vintage streets of Italy.
"Nope. You will have to wait and see," I wink, which causes her to roll her eyes and smile.
"Comfy looks good on you," she compliments me. I'm no stranger to compliments from women, but I never got one like that. And with no ulterior motive.
"Grazie," I feel my cheeks turn the slightest shade of pink when I turn to focus on the road. What is she doing to me?
The ride is filled with music and light conversation until we finally get to our destination.
"Wow, this is. Wow," Cleo's speechless. "This is beautiful."
I nod in agreement and look at the view. I didn't want to do anything too crazy. I just met her. I want to spend time with her without the pressures of the media, so I picked a quaint olive grove in Tuscany, which I happened to own. It was 15 acres abundantly blooming with olives. I open the door for her and help her out. Her eyes were still glued to the view, and I took this opportunity to observe the beauty in front of me.
Her brown eyes looked like literal pools of honey. Her skin looked like it was sprayed with glitter, while her hair was on top of her head with tiny strands fanning down. Absolutely stunning.
"The view?" She looks at me with those gorgeous eyes. Guess I said that out loud.
"Uhmm yeah, but I wasn't talking about that," I smile.
When she realizes I'm talking about her, she blushes and kisses my cheek as a thank you. Her lips felt so soft on my cheek. God, I want to kiss her.
No, no. Not yet, Chris.
We walk to the surprise mini picnic I set up. I made sure to get everything, including the best wine I could find. Sweet and savoury items littered the cloth. I wanted it to be perfect. Of course.
"Chris..." she whispered while placing her hand on her chest. I wrap my arms around her waist from behind and lean over her shoulder.
"You like it?" I whisper in her ear. I need her approval. She turned in my arms and looked up at my glossy eyes. I made her cry.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry," I say in one breath while wiping her tears with one hand. I keep it at the side of her face and look into her eyes. "I'm sorry, Cleo. I didn't mean-" she cut me off.
"Chris, stop," she said with her finger on my rambling mouth. I freeze and look at her, waiting for her to speak. "I love it. It's just... no one has ever done this for me before. It's new," she innocently shrugs.
Has no one ever appreciated Cleo? The men before me were complete idiots. I've just met her, and I can safely say that she's a force to be reckoned with.
"Well, I'll make sure you get accustomed then," I assure her with a smile and rest my forehead against hers. She smiles back at me. I kiss her nose and then her forehead, which makes her giggle. "Come on, let's eat," I take her hand and help her sit.
