The car was sleek and black and it expertly manoeuvred its way through tell-tale New York traffic, that threatens to overwhelm the streets and the public citizens. Horns blaring and shouting taxi-drivers are blocked out to a low hum in the backseat of the tinted windowed car.

The driver steps out as it comes to a stop outside the tall building you’ve become so appointed with. His steps are brisk, as he opens the door for you. “Thank you.” Leaves your lips as your heels echo on the smooth pavement of the business district in New York.

The tinted glass doors slide open, welcoming you in from the cool air. The marble only enhances the sound of your stilettos in the billion-dollar building. You walk up to the woman at one of the many desks. “I’m here for Mr Harper.” She looks up. “You’re his 12 o’clock? Can I take a name, please ma’am?” You give her your name and she hands you a small keycard and directs you up to the elevator and into his office.

The office is on the penthouse floor. With a roll of your eyes you think, typical. Typical Christian and his not always so subtle boasts of his wealth. The doors scan your face and open for you. You drape your coat over the coat hanger and saunter in. “Hello Christian.” You say smoothly, confidence oozing from your pores.

He stands, his hand naturally falling to your waist as you drop a kiss on both of his cheeks. “You look lovely.” He says, kissing your cheek. You smile.

Christian spoiled his stepsister, jewels, clothes, lunches, and most valuable.. his time. He took you to lunches, or theatres or anything your heart desired. Today he was dining you at a Michelin Star , French based food.

“Are you ready?” You ask, sitting before him at the desk. He looks up as he clicks at a few things on his screen. “A moment, darling.”