Forever Yours

The Limo Driver [1]

Forever Yours 

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This story: 'Forever Yours,' including all chapters, prologues, epilogues, and associated content is copyrighted under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act of 1988. All rights are reserved for the creator and owner of this work and any unauthorized copying, broadcasting, manipulation, distribution or selling of this work constitutes as an infringement of copyright. Any infringement of this copyright is punishable by law.

1. The Limo Driver

Maureen Carvelli

I wobbled slightly as I carefully made my way down the huge, marble staircase leading from the front doors of our mansion to the driveway. The black stiletto heeled boots I wore were not material for staircases, as I was quickly learning. If I trip and die today...I blame you, Cara, I mentally berated my younger sister as I gripped the railing.

What's wrong with jeans? When did jeans and converse ever go out of style? I had asked her that morning, staring forlornly at my favorite jeans and black converse. She had been too irritated to even respond; simply shoving the leather ankle boots and white designer pants into my arms. Put them on, she had commanded before throwing a black turtleneck at my face. I sighed. She was right, of course. I had an eleven o' clock appointment with my father's lawyers. Converse didn't exactly fit the bill, as she so impatiently explained so many times.

As I stepped off the last stair, I nearly breathed a sigh of relief. Made it in one piece. I looked up, then, and immediately began gnawing on my bottom lip. Right in front of me was parked my new, black limousine and leaning on the far side, the newly hired chauffeur. I felt self-consciousness flutter through me. This was going to be so weird. Who jetted around in limousines except for stuck up, pretentious sort of people? Okay, that was a generalization - but seriously. I was going to a meeting with a couple of lawyers to sign a couple of papers. Not to meet the president. This was silly and unnecessary.

But Dad didn't seem to think so. All I'd heard from him lately was "when in Rome, do as the Romans do." "We have a status now, and we need to behave accordingly." Maybe he was right. In any case, I wasn't going to complain. We'd come from far less and many more had far worse.

Sucking in a tiny breath, I released my white-knuckled grip on the railing and began walking towards the limo, stepping off the walkway onto the tarmac to make my way to the far side. I couldn't see the limo driver's face from here but he looked to be quite young from the back. I blinked in surprise as I drew closer. Weren't chauffeurs stodgy old men with white hair and bellhop hats? No, that's doormen... But this guy sure didn't have white hair. Dark, messy hair curled up around his ears and neck and he wore the expected tuxedo. He was looking off towards the lake but at the first sound of my heels clicking on the pavement, he pushed himself off of the limo, drawing himself up to his full height and turned to face me. And I just managed to prevent my chin from dropping to the ground.

Okay... so he was gorgeous. No biggie.

But, seriously. This was my limo driver?

First of all, the guy looked like he was in his early twenties. Like, younger than twenty-five. How does that happen? Second of all, he was tall and broad-shouldered and dark-haired and blue-eyed and gave the overall impression that he'd just stepped out of a catalog for menswear. I mean, were employment agencies hiring from model pickings now?