The Italian Businessman (Old Version).

1) Armani.

I stood before him, my raven black hair covering my blemish prone skin. I didn't move or apologies for bumping into him on my way to my Dad's office.

Instead my dark jade eyes roamed over his 6'3 frame, towering over my above average 5'8 height. His golden windswept locks tousled in a way that showed off his chocolate brown eyes that lingered on my slightly parted lips. Before I could say anything his rich Italian accented voice beat me to it,

"Il mio appolgise, I wasn't looking where I was going, amore mio." The man rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, I took in the sight before me, the black tailored Armani suit he was wearing clung to his body perfectly. Showing of his well toned arms and legs.

The Italian lessons I had taken during high school finally paid off, allowing me to not only understand what he was saying but to reply to him. "Sono stato quello che ha urtato in te, non c'è bisogno di appologies." Which was basically me saying I was the one that bumped into him, there was no need for him to apologies. 

"You know how to speak Italian?" He asked, looking dumbfounded.

"Sb' I also speak fluent French, Dutch and English, of course" I returned the look, with a smile, showing off my straight white teeth.

"Giovanni Amelio, é un piacere conoscerti." He outstretches a large, long fingered hand.

"Aurora Richmond, the pleasure is all mine." I shook his hand with my slightly smaller one, my freshly manicured fingers lightly scrape against his tanned skin. Even his hands are completely flawless, the skin on the inside of his palm is softer then the Egyptian silk bedding my Mother had forced me to buy for my new loft.

"Where are you off to?" He questioned, looking down at my attire.

My cheeks reddened slightly in embarrassment. Sadly, the heads of the school staff had advised us to wear older clothing, since the toddlers art mural is being painted later today.

I looked down at my sneaker covered feet, my outfit consists of my once favourite, now, completely washed-out denim three-quarter jeans and sweatshirt. Since I had been running late this morning, not a single form my styling product had come into contact with my naturally straight hair or pale skin. Leaving me with slightly knotted hair and no makeup.  

"I'm actually on my way to meet somebody." My voice sounded a lot more husky then I had expected it to. I might have just made it seem as though the person was more of a lover than my Father. Though it isn't a complete lie, I still felt like I shouldn't have said anything.

"Un fidanzato?" Giovanni's face drew a blank. Not showing any emotion or feeling.

"If by a boyfriend, you mean my Father? Then yes, definitely a boyfriend." I smiled sincerely at him, allowing a set of dimples to form in my cheeks.

"Così non hai un fidanzato?"

"Nope, no boyfriend." Giovanni's shoulders visibly relaxed and he exhales a breath of relief.

•

A burly looking man with gruff features and curly hair came out from behind Giovanni. The guy looked scary as hell with a bodybuilders width and muscles, along with a jagged scare running across his left cheek.  He whispered in Giovanni's ear, his fluent Italian mumbles echoing slightly.

The man took a step back after he received a nod in reply.

"I'm sorry amore mio, but I have to leave." Giovanni announced, a look of regret flashes across his face before it was replaced by an apologetic smile. I feel slightly disappointed that he has to leave, but brush it off after I realised I has it fact only just met him. There is no need for me to have felt this way, it wasn't as though we are ever going to see each other again.