Lizzy Devinson
"Lizzy, the preparations for Paris Fashion Week have been thoroughly examined and are on schedule. All we need from you is for you to review everything and give us your approval before we move forwards." Tate has been my secretary since I started designing my own clothing line.
Tate is a college friend who shares my passion for fashion, which is why she is in charge of all of my projects and designs. She also creates designs and concepts for our fashion show and store catalogue.
"All right, let's get going," I said as I rose from my desk and walked out of my office. Tate would usually protest and scold me for driving myself from place to place during work hours rather than allowing my chauffeur to do so. What's the point of buying a sports car or motorcycle for myself if I'm not going to ride it?
Tate gave me a run-down of our events and the VIP guest list as I drove to the location. When it comes to fashion week, my schedule has been jam-packed. My headquarters are in Paris, despite the fact that I have an office in New York. I haven't even had time to see my family in the last few months. Even if I flew back and forth between Paris and New York, I would always make a pit stop at the office. Fashion and clothing design has become my top priority since I finished my studies and decided to start my own business.
"Let's go ahead with this for fashion week; I'd like you to double-check all security and damage a day before the show," I said, approving their plans.
"That's all for today, Lizzy," Tate said, "and that your schedule is free for this evening."
"Thank you, Tate; you, too, should get some rest. Tomorrow I'll see you." I hopped into my sports car and drove straight to my apartment.
I received an unexpected phone call from my mother. I answer the call by pairing my phone with the car's Bluetooth.
"Good evening Mrs Devinson" I answer the call with a goofy opening.
"Stop with the jokes. Come home tonight, Lizzy, because we have a family dinner tomorrow." The plan that my mother devised piqued my interest. Despite the fact that Paris Fashion Week is approaching, she insists that I return home. I'm certain she'll have something else up her sleeve this time.
"Do you have any interesting news?" I responded, knowing that my mother would eventually tell me about it.
"Our Xander has a girlfriend," my mother exclaimed, and I could hear the joy in her voice.
"Are you certain they're real?" Xander, my younger brother, would never start a relationship with someone unless he was very serious about her. I'm guessing it's an attachment issue.
"Not yet," she says, "but with my push and your support, I'm confident it will happen." She always uses me as an ace card against Xander.
After what happened when we were kids, my younger brother has always followed me around and listened to me. Xander never refuses my requests, no matter what, and our parents are baffled as to why. They simply believe he suffers from a sister complex.
"All right, I'll see you at dinner." I hung up on my mother and booked a flight back to New York.
I finally arrive in New York after a few 7-8-hour flights. I slept the entire flight, grateful for the first-class seat I had reserved for myself. That doesn't make up for the drowsiness I've been experiencing as a result of the all-nighters I've been pulling these past few days.
As soon as I stepped off the plane, I lost my balance and began to stumble forwards. As I was about to fall, a random guy grabbed my arms and said, "Be careful, you should get some proper rest." I felt like my body had lost a lot more strength than it already had just from the 2-minute touch.
"Thank you," I say as I turn to face him, my gaze fixed on his. What an unexpected encounter; his face is exactly what I'm looking for. The type that I loved to screw around with, and whom I wish I could ravish during our deed. When he walked away and I went to the baggage claim, we parted ways.
When I reached out to grab the luggage in front of me, I noticed a man reaching for the same luggage next to me. What were they thinking when they put the same luggage out next to each other? What if we got them mixed up? I just gulped down my saliva as I stared at those hands. My gaze rose from the hand to his face, if there's a third encounter, it would be on the bed.
YOU ARE READING
Our Forever Sunset
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