hand on her right shoulder and massaged it, attempting to relieve the tension from a bad night of sleep. She was exhausted; she had been travelling for over ten hours.
As she was leaving the baggage claim area of the John F. Kennedy International Airport in New York, she saw a man holding a sign with her name on it. As she walked towards him, smiling, he looked puzzled. She was used to this reaction. She looked quite young for her age; they were expecting an older woman.
The man holding the sign smiled and said, "Ms. Morgan?"
She nodded.
"Welcome, madam. My name is James." He took her luggage, leaving only her handbag.
A group of three men walked towards her. The eldest extended his hand. She recognised him as the mayor of New York, Mayor Jack Dawkins. He had an enormous, open smile and laugh lines surrounding his eyes, presenting a welcoming face.
"Welcome, Morgan. I hope you had a safe trip."
She smiled, humbled by the unexpected presence of such a high-profile figure. She felt slightly self-conscious—he was wearing a formal, and undoubtedly expensive, black suit with a royal blue tie, and his white hair was perfectly combed and very shiny. In contrast, she was wearing her most comfortable travelling outfit, a white linen Indian-inspired tunic and matching pants. Her comfortable flat sandals made her feel quite small in comparison to the tall American men that followed the mayor and surrounded her in a circle. Thick, curly hair was half tucked in between her neck and the turquoise scarf that circled her shoulders. She quickly gathered her long dark hair and hopelessly attempted to smooth her curls, running her fingers through the unruly locks that reached her waist. I might as well try to control a tropical storm; she thought, amused by her rebellious locks.
A man stood just behind the group, and she couldn't help but notice him. It was clear he was part of the welcoming party, but he did not look, dress, or act like the rest. He stood at the back and looked directly at her with a kind, warm expression. Heavenly , she thought. He had a lean, strong body, his back was straight, and he held his head high, with an elegance from a different time. I know you. She felt slightly inebriated as she looked directly into his eyes. She shook her head and blamed the jet lag, while he lowered his eyes, eyebrows wrinkled with some troubling thought. She immediately focused her attention on the mayor, who was explaining that he was going to be travelling internationally that day but that he had wanted to come personally to welcome her and wish her a pleasant stay.
As he introduced her to her appointed driver and her personal assistant, she looked back in the direction of the handsome stranger. Then the mayor extended his arm to the other man, who approached the mayor with a warm smile. His dark hair touched his shoulders; the top part of his hair was gathered in a loose ponytail that left some wide curls waving in front of his eyes. A light goatee perfectly framed his face. The mayor put his hand on the back of the younger man.
"Morgan, I would like to introduce you to Gabriel Warren, who will be your host and guide during your visit to New York." His eyes, set on her, were like the sea, shifting between blue and green, reflecting the environment around them. He extended his hand to her and held her hand gently in between his for a brief moment.
"Pleasure." The top of her head barely reached his chin. As he talked to her, he bent his head and shoulders, and she looked up to meet his eyes. His voice was reassuring, and his words were sparse but polite. "We should start walking to the car. I'm sure Ms. Morgan is looking forward to getting to her hotel room." His British accent was very pleasing and charming.
The mayor nodded and, as they walked, he continued, "Gabriel's Foundation, Ange'el, is a major benefactor of many of our most prestigious New York City venues. They support the Metropolitan Museum and are
As she was leaving the baggage claim area of the John F. Kennedy International Airport in New York, she saw a man holding a sign with her name on it. As she walked towards him, smiling, he looked puzzled. She was used to this reaction. She looked quite young for her age; they were expecting an older woman.
The man holding the sign smiled and said, "Ms. Morgan?"
She nodded.
"Welcome, madam. My name is James." He took her luggage, leaving only her handbag.
A group of three men walked towards her. The eldest extended his hand. She recognised him as the mayor of New York, Mayor Jack Dawkins. He had an enormous, open smile and laugh lines surrounding his eyes, presenting a welcoming face.
"Welcome, Morgan. I hope you had a safe trip."
She smiled, humbled by the unexpected presence of such a high-profile figure. She felt slightly self-conscious—he was wearing a formal, and undoubtedly expensive, black suit with a royal blue tie, and his white hair was perfectly combed and very shiny. In contrast, she was wearing her most comfortable travelling outfit, a white linen Indian-inspired tunic and matching pants. Her comfortable flat sandals made her feel quite small in comparison to the tall American men that followed the mayor and surrounded her in a circle. Thick, curly hair was half tucked in between her neck and the turquoise scarf that circled her shoulders. She quickly gathered her long dark hair and hopelessly attempted to smooth her curls, running her fingers through the unruly locks that reached her waist. I might as well try to control a tropical storm; she thought, amused by her rebellious locks.
A man stood just behind the group, and she couldn't help but notice him. It was clear he was part of the welcoming party, but he did not look, dress, or act like the rest. He stood at the back and looked directly at her with a kind, warm expression. Heavenly , she thought. He had a lean, strong body, his back was straight, and he held his head high, with an elegance from a different time. I know you. She felt slightly inebriated as she looked directly into his eyes. She shook her head and blamed the jet lag, while he lowered his eyes, eyebrows wrinkled with some troubling thought. She immediately focused her attention on the mayor, who was explaining that he was going to be travelling internationally that day but that he had wanted to come personally to welcome her and wish her a pleasant stay.
As he introduced her to her appointed driver and her personal assistant, she looked back in the direction of the handsome stranger. Then the mayor extended his arm to the other man, who approached the mayor with a warm smile. His dark hair touched his shoulders; the top part of his hair was gathered in a loose ponytail that left some wide curls waving in front of his eyes. A light goatee perfectly framed his face. The mayor put his hand on the back of the younger man.
"Morgan, I would like to introduce you to Gabriel Warren, who will be your host and guide during your visit to New York." His eyes, set on her, were like the sea, shifting between blue and green, reflecting the environment around them. He extended his hand to her and held her hand gently in between his for a brief moment.
"Pleasure." The top of her head barely reached his chin. As he talked to her, he bent his head and shoulders, and she looked up to meet his eyes. His voice was reassuring, and his words were sparse but polite. "We should start walking to the car. I'm sure Ms. Morgan is looking forward to getting to her hotel room." His British accent was very pleasing and charming.
The mayor nodded and, as they walked, he continued, "Gabriel's Foundation, Ange'el, is a major benefactor of many of our most prestigious New York City venues. They support the Metropolitan Museum and are
Similar Books
