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Interesting.
“Yes ma’am.”
I wait for my other cell phone to ring while she removes her pink blazer and sits behind her desk, flipping her old money blonde waves over her shoulder. The call takes less than five minutes to reach me.
“Yes?”
“Good morning, sir,” Jonathan Moretti, or Jonny, my assistant greets me, “I have a Sabrina Winters, a lawyer who would like to meet with you to go over… a contract? She'd like to know if tomorrow at noon works for you?”
It doesn't.
“Tomorrow at noon is fine. Have her email me the details.”
I hang up, staring at my future bride through the screen when her assistant buzzes in and relays the message. She thanks Lily, faces her computer screen, and begins to type.
She chose a small French bistro two blocks down from her firm, and as soon as I step into the place and out of the late Augustheat wave, she’s not hard to miss. The sun shines on her honey blonde hair and creates this luminous glow but if that wasn’t bright, the dusty pink of her fashion-forward chiffon shirt and the puffy layered sleeves give her away. I stride over to her, and she stands abruptly, the chair making a small screeching noise behind her.
“Mr. Giordano.” She says, her voice is an almost chipper mezzo-soprano, holding out her gloved hand which I take in mine. It’s… small. And even though it’s dainty, her grip is firm in a no-nonsense kind of way which tells me she’s had to make it that way so she’s taken seriously in her field.
She’s right.
Can’t trust a person with a limp handshake.
“In the flesh, Miss Winters.” I grin then let my eyes peruse her from her hair, down to her cat-like green eyes lined with kohl, the small beauty mark above her lip, her button nose, and her plush lips.
Are they real?
Her body, yes, a little more rounded and softer than the women I make sure I’m seen with, is generous, everywhere, including a soft swell of her stomach that protrudes a bit, but it doesn’t take away the way her pencil skirt stretches perfectly over her hips and I know if she turns around, she’d have an ass women pay thousands to have.
Up close and personal, she reminds me of a thicker Kate Winslet – Titanic era – mixed with some famous 1950s starlet. While her beauty is a bit in your face… she’s reserved. Cold.
She pulls her hand away and takes a seat. I follow, and that’s when I notice a well-dressed man with dirty blonde hair, mix-matched eyes, and a scar through his eyebrow sitting behind her watching our entire interaction.
I arch a brow in his direction. “Can we help you?”
“That’s Parker, my bodyguard, which brings me to our contract, Mr. Giordano,” she explains, reaching over, turning her torso to pull out documents from her pale pink briefcase in the seat beside her, a pink glittery pen with a fuzzy ball on top and a bright pink highlighter.
Christ, the only thing on this woman thatisn’tpink is her skirt. It takes everything in me to keep my composure. What a ridiculous fucking woman. I should’ve thought this over more.
Our waitress comes but instead of asking for my order, an espresso is placed in front of me.
“Oh, I hope you don’t mind, I had your assistant Jonathan send over a list of your preferences, so I took the liberty of ordering for you. I would have ordered a meal, but this won’t take long. I’m sure you have much to do and I’m not one to waste time. I’m sure you can appreciatethat.” I can hear a faint English accent, barely there and yet the way her words are well-rounded, there’s an eloquence and cadence in her tone that screamsprincess.
“A list of my preferences?”
“Yes, who better to ask than the ones who are used to our demands?” She says, without looking at me, filtering through the papers in her hand. “Now, in section three of this… agreement, you agree to have your detail on me, and I would like to veto that. I have Parker.”
“I have my own security team that will be following you.”
“Exactly. And I reiterate, that I would prefer Parker for the job.”
“Are you fucking him?”
Her eyes flash momentarily stunned but she schools her features quickly. “No. Parker has been my bodyguard for almost four years now and I… have… issues with too many changes at once. It’s a non-negotiable, and one I won’t bow down to. Parker stays or the contract is void. I don’t go anywhere without him; I amcomfortablewith him.”
“You don’t trust my men.”
“No, I do not. I do not know them.” She says matter-of-factly with a slow blink. “If you want me to feel safe, Parker comes with me.”