Nothing, I repeat Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw in the car. I should have said who.
All the thoughts of Mr smith overreacting, exaggerating or being dramatic immediately vanished. All what he said, how he acted and what he insinuated were immediately validated.
I've never such a beautiful man before in my entire life. I must say his voice matches his appearance.
I'd always thought I loved chocolate ice-cream... oh I never knew. I didn't know I could ever love vanilla.
It feels wrong to call him vanilla 'cause this nigga is so white. He has a very pretty hazel eyes that is so captivating. It's like there's an abyss, you can get lost in it.
His hair is so full and neatly cut. Had he had black eyes, he would have been the perfect description for a dark man. And is lips are just so perfect. It isn't thin nor fat it's just perfect and pink. The softest shade of pink ever. It makes me wonder how it most feel to kiss him.
What the fuck am I thinking about?!
Get yourself together Nevaeh!
"Miss, Mr Rothschild was talking to you."
Oh my Gosh. Can I be buried already? I feel so embarrassed.
"I'm so sorry. I was lost in my thoughts." I gushed out in my defense.
"Of course." Mr Smith replied sarcastically.
"Let the young lady be." Oh his husky voice might as well be my downfall.
Oh his lashes too. He has long slightly curled lashes. How can a guy have all these feminine characteristics and yet be so handsome? Although he's seated, it was so obvious that he's so tall. He wore a three pieces suit too.
Come to think of it, we're kinda matching. We might just be the perfect power couple.
"Oh, she was lost again. Mr Rothschild was just asking about your name miss."
"Yes, of course. I heard him. I was just thinking about the name."
"were you? If I didn't know better I would have thought you were ogling Mr Rothschild."
"Oh please... what's there to _"
"Smith, let the lady be." Oh... did I just sight an accent? I think that's a British accent. But I could be wrong though. I never knew how to differentiate between them. But whatever it is... it is hot!
"So, are you going to tell me your name?"
"Yhh... I mean yes. Of course. My name is Nevaeh. Akinloye Nevaeh. And don't bother trying to pronounce the last name."
"It's nice to meet you miss Nevaeh."
"You too, Mr Rothschild."
"No, call me Alexandre since I can't call your last name."
"Okay, my alexand_ wait...with 're' and not 'er' right?"
"Yes."
"That's like... French? You're french?"
"Yes I'm French..."
"I thought you were British or something."
"Oh you were expecting some oui and mademoiselle?
"Oh nooo. I didn't mean it that way. I just thought you had a British accent. I've never been really good with knowing which accent is which anyway."
"Yhh... I do have a British accent." Then there was silence. I didn't know what to say and I don't want to offend him or something. So, I kept quiet and tried not to stare at him. "Your name... what does it mean?"
"Oh, it's just heaven spelt backwards."
"Why spell it backwards? I don't think I like it. Why don't you tell you another name of yours and I do the same?"
"I get you. Even my grandma never liked the name. You can call me Grace though. That's my middle name."
"I like that. Call me Blanc then."
"Okay. Mr blanc. That means white right?"
"No... just blanc. Grace, I would like it very much if you could call me blanc. And yes, it means white."
The way my name rolled out of his mouth was the best ever. It made me feel like all the people who had ever called me grace didn't know how to call the name.
"It suits you...your name suits you."
"Merci."
All that was left if the drive was done in silence. It was a peaceful silence though. It wasn't until we got into the city before Mr smith broke it to ask where my stop was.
The reception came back and messages started coming in. They were mainly from my grandma. She was asking if I'd got there safe.
And I believe she'd seen the messages I sent when there was no reception because she became more worried.
I had no choice, I had to call her.
We were on call for about 20 mins and I had to keep reassuring her over and over again to let her know that I'm alright and was already at the city before she reluctantly allowed me to cut the call.
By the time I ended the call, I felt so embarrassed and we were already at the front of my company.
I told them thank you, tried to stop myself from looking at his face one last time to avoid being too creepy and got out of the car.
I watched them zoom off, cleared my thoughts of him and got ready to face one of my many problems.
Why think about what you can't have anyways?