*i'm trying something out...i'm not quite sure how it's going to go. but we'll see...hopefully you enjoy*
She consoled herself as the plane began to descend. 'It's all right, everything is fine. Everything is under control. You've been here before.'
She drew a hard breath.
She wondered what she would say the moment she saw her uncle, the notorious Renoldo Pezzini.
She drew an absolute blank.
Natasha James stepped off the plane feeling severely jetlagged and supremely rumpled. Wisps of dark hair had succeeded in pulling free from the ponytail at the base of her neck. Her mascara was slightly smudged, making her eyes appear smoky. She yawned fetchingly and squinting into the sunlight she slipped a pair of dark Gucci sunglasses over her eyes. She made her way down the stairs slinging her purse over her shoulder. The heels of her stiletto boots clicked on the metallic steps. Eyes were on her. Even jetlagged and rumpled, Natasha James was gorgeous. The daughter of a black military man and an Italian heiress, her looks were quite unique; caramel colored skin, raven hair that fell in loose waves over her shoulders, changeling eyes...The young woman attracted attention wherever she went.
A man waited at the bottom of the stairs looking up at her expectantly. He wore a dark suit and sunglasses. His skin was Italian gold and his dark hair was swept back from his face. He was very Italian and would have been extremely handsome were it not for the rigid stance and the stern expression on his face. "Ms. James?"
Natasha slid the sunglasses up onto her head and eyed him critically. "That depends on who's asking."
He cleared his throat, slightly taken back by her answer, but his face remained impassive. He said in a heavy Italian accent "Your uncle sends his apologies. He has business to attend to."
Natasha frowned. Her voice was dry. "Business? Is that what he calls it?" Then she looked at him more closely. "Alejandro Montelli? Is that you?" She looked him up and down. "My...we're all grown up. And so important too."
His mouth twitched and he shifted uncomfortably. He skirted her sarcasm. "You bags will be taken to the hotel where a car will be provided for your use. Follow me, please."
Natasha followed him over the airfield and into the airport. In the pristine blue and white terminal Natasha headed for the inevitable interrogation at customs. "I thought they weren't letting anyone past security..." Natasha said. Alejandro simply cast her an annoyed glance.
After the customs officer checked her visa and passport dismissively, she returned it to her handbag, and followed Alejandro out into the terminal. Suddenly she was engulfed in a horde of commuters all rushing to meet their flights.
When Alejandro stopped abruptly Natasha nearly crashed into his broad back.
"Wha-?" she blurted, startled.
He glanced back at her, surprised be her closeness.
He took her arm in a none too gentle grasp and led her to a seat away from the bustling crowds. "Stay." He ordered and turned briskly away from her and disappeared into the crowds.
Natasha bristled at his order. "Woof." She muttered under her breath.
She watched the hurrying travelers pass by. 'Like bumper cars ' she thought and grinned. She glanced at her watch, ten minutes. She blew out an exasperated breath. One booted toe tapped the floor. She spotted a coffee bar across the way and suddenly a latte sounded luscious.
She stood and was making her way across the terminal when a particularly hurried traveler bumped her shoulder, hard. Her purse flew from her shoulder and she stumbled backwards. She skidded across the floor with astonishing velocity. She teetered precariously on her heels and a small shriek tore itself from her throat as she began to fall backwards.
She fell against a tall, hard, male body. She winced and flushed with embarrassment as two strong hands took hold of her shoulders and she was unceremoniously set on her feet.
She was about to face her rescuer when she spotted her purse, its contents spilling across the floor. She bent quickly and began to gather her things back into her purse. She was reaching for her compact then promptly drew her hand back as a shoe came down and crushed it.
"Lovely." She sighed and bent her head. It was the last straw. She was motionless a moment as tears of frustration threatened to fall behind the expensive shades.
A pair of black wingtips appeared before her eyes beneath a pair of exquisitely tailored black slacks. The legs bent and a man came into her sight. He handed her her passport with a gleam of white teeth. "I believe this belongs to you."
