enamor:
/iˈnamər,eˈnamər/
to be filled with a feeling of love for.
"Dance for me" I whispered in her ear. She smiles. We were outside in a garden near a lake. It was beautiful. The sun was setting. She took off her shoes and stood up on the grass.
...
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Malena
The Laurent family. One of the richest families in France. Everyone knew of them, but not many saw them. They were not very open to the public. There were talks about their three children, but no one saw them. The most famous was the heir and eldest, Alexandre Laurent. Everyone claimed he was handsome but not someone to mess with. There were many talks and rumours about how the family gained some income through illegalities but nobody really knew.
I walk into the dark, empty building with hesitation. The huge skyscraper was large, open-planned, and cleanly polished.
It was late, almost ten o' clock, so everyone had gone home.
The floors were clean marble that echoed with every tap of the foot. They led me away from the main reception to the elevators.
I step in after waiting and they click the highest floor. I bite my lip nervously as we go up. I have not been in many elevators because there are none in the slums.
I peek at the stony-faced security. Two brunettes, tall and muscular, towering over me. Short-cropped hair, pale skin, brown eyes, maybe in their thirties.
The elevator dings and we step out. Fortieth floor. I have never been so high.
The opening hallway is tall glass that leads to one room on the far end. Around me, I look at the city. Dark and beautiful, with the city lights shining.
Every step closer to the dark mahogany doors. A step closer to the truth.
We arrive and I look up at the impending presence of the incredibly large double doors.
They knock softly and head off the sides of the hallways, in front of the glass windows.
"Come in" I hear a quiet but deep voice come from the other side.
The doors do well to insulate the sound inside, I barely heard it.
I look at them and they nod.
I must go in alone.
I turn the handle and walk in. Not knowing what to expect.
I walk in and shut the door behind me.
My breath exhales as I take in the office.
Neat, dark, beautifully masculine.
Dark mahogany, bookshelves, and a large desk meet me. Lined with books, I squint and see books on astrophysics, Quantum physics, scientific laws, and books on economics, accounting, and management.
A black couch sat in the corner with a whiskey bottle and glasses.
I turn my attention to the front where a large figure sat facing the large window overlooking the city.
In the dimly lit room, I could see he was turned away from me, the only light coming from the window.
"I trust you made it here on your own volition," his voice comes out clearly tinged with husk and a slight French accent.
