Immanus tu a domine
Commendo spiritu mue
Gloria patri et filio
Et spiritus sanctus
Immanus tu a domine
Commendo spiritu mue
Phina sang the musical litany in a peachy tone; stopping at intervals and humming softly. Her deft fingers lingered on the black and ivory keys of the piano. A dull ache sprung up intermittently from the bones of her butt, a remainder for sitting way too long on the settee. High up above her, a little wooden casket hanging over a high window overflowing with choking, stuffy incense loomed into the room. The soft drooped skin that adjoined her lashes were stretched over her eyes and her head swung in a solemn and moderate fashion back and forth.
Eke, her mind was shut to the buzz emerging from under the floorboards her feet rested upon.
A kite-shaped clock struck one and her eyes on an instant cracked open. Simultaneously she heard the cries of cars dragging on the pathway outside and the hone of a hundred voices. Curiosity that was unknown beat somberness that was known as she elatedly leaped up from her seat and ran to an open window.
Cars ranging from formal models to sport wheels paraded the enormous driveway and even pressed onto the lawns. People milled through the cars to the front doors of the Kincaid mansion, hugging and kissing one other. She felt the excitement and magic in the air as she sat on the thin window sill giggling out loud and sniffing demurely in appraisal of the odoriferous fragrance of Persian spices mixed with grilled de-feathered birds sifting in from the mansion's cuisine. From the corner of her eye, she zoomed in on a sleek dark Bentley gliding in through the iron gates. It motioned to a stop near the parked cars and a bulky man came out of the driver's side, dashing to the passenger's side and swinging the door open.
At first glance Phina only saw a pair of cloud-white shoes peeking out the door. Then a man in a well-tailored, jet-black suit of Armani stepped out. The glorious sun cast its beams harshly on him, causing him to squint, his brown summer grass complexion, glinting off. The mass flew to him in droves from every spectrum and the media shooters couldn't seem to grasp enough of him as they held cords of microphones and recorders to his face. They might as well have been fanning an ice cube and singing the W. Houston song to a thousand year old Egyptian mummy. He ignored them all and inched his way stoically through the maddening crowd, his right hand man pushing at the recalcitrant paps.
Phina giraffed her neck to stare more at him when he drew closer. Of a sudden he tipped his head up, as if realising through an inner thought that he was being scrutinized.
The world ceased to circulate as his dark-brown eyes met her dark ones.
The activities around Phina turned a hazy blur, inanimate objects whizzing dangerously past her like she was on a space rocket. Her heart's acceleration raised to an unusual pitch and her throat turned miraculously dry like she was on an all year vacation across the Sahara. She stood rooted to the spot, -now turned cold-, and watched as the bodyguard leaned to his ear. Subsequently, just as he stared at her a moment ago tongue-tied and surreal-faced, his demeanor chameleoned to impassive and furious. His dull eyes sparked a hostile fire not formerly present. He clamped his jaw so tight, it almost hurt Phina just looking at him. She gasped at his stony change of countenance and quickly scurried away from the window.
Her head was still reeling from the hazardous encounter with the strange man, when a woman decked up in a flimsy butter-yellow peek-a-boo gown sauntered into the high-ceilinged room.
YOU ARE READING
The Tame (ON HOLD)
Romance"Marry the girl, son and you can remain in the business empire your father strove hard to build." Brendan stared flabbergasted at his mother like she had grown two huge scarlet wings. Orphaned and penniless, Phina has b...
