"But then I saw you, lying there on the floor and I suddenly couldn't risk losing you."
~°~
She is a fashion tycoon, taking the nation by storm.
He is a firefighter.
Five years ago, she almost burned to death in her apartment.
Five years ago, he sa...
"...You also have lunch at noon with the Mendozas." I sighed dropping my head back on the headrest of the seat as Minnie rattled off my schedule for the day after tomorrow. Fighting the urge to rub my eyes with my base of my palm, I told my personal assistant to shift the three meetings I had to next week.
"Alright, I moved Mrs. Thompson's appointment to Tuesday, 4 pm next week. She is not going to be happy, but what can she do. I will inform her when we land." Minnie said as she straightened her grey blazer and typed a few things in her personal iPad. I exhaled forcefully in amusement. Minnie didn't like Mrs. Thompson for she threw quite a fit and a coffee at Minnie who was trying to stop her from meeting me, when I was in a board meeting.
My schedule was so jam-packed. Pushing back my red hair and picking up my champagne glass, I looked out of the small window. Despite the fact that we were above the clouds and the sunrays were lighting up the whole of the small, but luxurious executive plane, it failed to cheer me up.
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The whole month had been so hectic. Meetings, social parties and the designing of the new summer-spring range of casuals had me swamped. I was continuously flying to either Bahamas or Dubai and was now dead on my feet. A zombie would be a more accurate description, with all the eye-bags and dark circles I was sporting.
But now after an entire month, I am heading back to New York for a much-needed rest. Sure, I will still attend some meetings and stuff--I still had a company to run--but on a lower scale. I will be back on my trips and designs after a week.
Taking a sip of the bubbly liquid, I felt my eyes drooping. Toobad, I thought, as I forced them open, theyaren'tgoingtogettherest. At least not now. Whenever I slept, I had that...that...flashback. It couldn't be called a nightmare because even though it starts like one, makes me feel like one, it really isn't. But then again, it also couldn't be called a dream for obvious reasons.
I remember those dark eyes and how a strong, male voice had told me that he had got me. It made me feel safe and secure and for a moment, a brief passing moment, I can feel myself get unburdened as my troubles are lifted off of me. At that moment I am at peace. I had never met the person who had saved me from the smoke. But the day I do...
I took another sip and then placed the glass on the table in front of me. Smoothing my pure white jacket and rubbing my palms on my jean-covered thighs, I picked up the business magazine sitting next to it and flipped through it, with no interest what-so-ever. Getting bored of looking at old-balding faces in Armani suits quite quickly, I called the hostess and asked if she had something else.
"Yes, ma'am!" she said professionally as she went to the back and got out a cabinet full of magazines for me to choose.
One type of magazine caught my eye and I quickly grabbed it. Thanking the hostess, I took another quick sip of the crisp champagne and settled in my seat, once more, with my favorite magazine in hand. The Times Celebex.
