Branded

Mina Bianchi tapped her long, jet black nails against the steering wheel of her 2014 cherry red convertible Ferrari. It was a present from her daddy. A present she absolutely adored but was currently annoyed with. Only because it was sitting still when she wanted so much to be speeding down the street, cutting between the idol cars around her. Cars that reminded her of sitting ducks, waiting to be ripped into by a hungry predator. She smiled to herself as she thought that she’d like to be that predator, and her dark, almost black eyes scanned her surroundings. They fell on a black Porsche beside her. It was expensive. Even more expensive than her own car, which would remain unavailable to the public for another two years. 

The light turned green and she hit the gas, accelerating to a speed well over the limit and weaving through cars that got in her way. She had no time for slow drivers, nor did she have the patience. But too soon she was at yet another red light. She eased to a stop and sighed in pure frustration, staring blandly at the offending light. This was such a waste of her life. She turned to her right to see the same Porsche once again beside her, though the windows were too tinted to view the driver. Her eyes flickered forward as the light turned green and she hit the accelerator full force. She heard the loud rev of an engine beside her and turned to see the black car keeping time. And then it was passing her, reaching a speed meant only for freeways, not busy city streets. Mina smiled at the challenge and sped up, eager to race again. It had been too long. But just as it had begun it was finished, as the Porsche hit a hard swerve and cut her off. She didn’t hit the brakes, however, and instead pressed further into the accelerator. She didn’t care if she dented her precious car, nor did she care if she killed someone in the process. She was powerful, she had nothing to lose. Nothing anyone would dare take from her.

The car swerved back to it’s own lane as it saw she wasn’t slowing, but not before she scratched the side of it, leaving a tiny stretch of red paint. She continued on her way, paying the minor detail no mind, and veered into the parking lot of her destination; a high end liquor store within her father’s protection. She expertly swerved into a space and cut the engine, stepping out of her car. Her long, loose curls of auburn hair hung just past her chest, and the sun reflected off the black streaks as it blew in the wind. She unzipped her tight leather jacket, revealing the black swoop neck beneath it. It was hotter out than she remembered. Her black stilettos clicked against the warm cement as she strode toward the entrance, but she stopped when she heard a familiar engine cut behind her. She stayed still, wondering who dared confront her. She slowly turned with the reflection of a smile on her face, watching the black Porsche as the driver’s door smoothly opened. What stepped out caught her by surprise.

He was good looking, gorgeous if she were to be honest. His unruly hair was the blackest of blacks, and his skin was sun-kissed and naturally tan. He donned dark clothing and had a menacing air about him, and his light brown eyes danced with danger. She kept her face emotionless as her eyes scanned his body. She decided he was worth her time. Nobody liked socializing with an ugly person. Her the least.

“You scratched my car.” His voice was deep and smooth, and he crossed his arms over his chest in what was meant to be an intimidating fashion. He obviously didn’t know who was standing before him.

“And you’re talking to me.” Mina said this like it was a crime, and in her mind it very much was.

“You’re paying for this.” He gestured to the barely noticeable smear of red across the otherwise flawless black. Mina’s lips turned up in the trace of a smile.

“I’ll be doing no such thing,” Her mild Italian accent was overrun with arrogance. She brushed her hair over her shoulder and walked away as if he were nothing. He had some nerve thinking he had the right to speak to her. Attractive or not, he was not worth her time. She heard a door slam shut and the loud roar of an engine, followed by a deafening squeal of tires as he sped off. She walked through the door of the shop with purpose and moments later came to the counter with a bottle of vodka in her hand.