King of New York (6 page)

Before she
leaves his office, Vincent Malcolm wants to speak some words of wisdom to his
youngest child. He tells her to get a chair and sit beside him.

“You, my child,
are an inspiration to me. I see you are looking at me with eyes of disbelief
but you are one of my inspirations. I have watched you grow from a baby to a
clever young lady and you did it all by yourself. Neither your mother nor I are
the reasons why you have achieved what you have achieved. Yes, we did push you
to reach for your dreams but it was your choice solely to choose whether or not
you wanted to achieve what you now have. We did not stay up sleepless nights to
do your dissertation or study for you – you did all that by yourself. You did
your essays and assignments during the hours of the night all by yourself
because you knew what you wanted.

“I know this is
a far-fetched comparison as I am about to compare us to geniuses of philosophy,
but when I look at you I am reminded of the great philosopher Plato, and I
being Socrates, hypothetically speaking.”

Sierra looks at
him with a questioning look in her eyes, alarmed at the fact that her father
would compare them to two of ancient Greece’s intellectuals. He laughs at the
look on her face and continues to speak.

“Of course we
are not as ingenious as the two I have mentioned, but we can call ourselves the
modern-day Kensington version. Ha ha, I kid, I kid …” he laughs heartily,
before continuing. “But I’m sure you know where I am coming from. As I’m sure
you know, Socrates was the teacher of Plato and having read some works of Plato
you will have read of the admiration he had for his teacher, so much so that
when he wrote most of his works he wrote them in Socratic dialogue. You most
certainly have read
The Republic
by Plato. He showcases Socrates as the
protagonist in his works because Socrates himself could not do so as he was no
longer alive. So because Plato brings Socrates to life in his writing, does
that mean Socrates is the genius in Plato’s
Republic
? No! No it does
not. You might want to ask why does it not and how does what I’m saying relate
to us?

“Well, allow me
to elaborate, my dear child. Yes, Plato was a student of Socrates and most of what
he knew he must have learnt from Socrates, but when one is destined for
greatness he takes what he has learnt from the master that taught him and turns
it into the works of his own hands. There will be imitation because we live in
a world where nothing can be truly original apart from what is up above in the
heavenly skies that we cannot see. Such imitation could be referred to as
mimesis. So in relation to us, you may mimic me in some ways but all that you
are, is all you, you are a by-product of me genetically but who you are as an
individual is all you. So Plato may have been a by-product through the education
of Socrates but his works are his own and he is the main genius behind all his
works and not Socrates.

“You admire me
because I taught you plenty, but I do not think I am to admire as much as you
are because you are taking my teachings to a different level, one of your own.
I’m not sure if you see the absurdity of it all. But sometimes the absurd is
what makes the most sense.

“What I am
really trying to say is that although we are similar we are extremely different;
it’s like philosophy and literature. One can argue that philosophy is extremely
similar to literature, although if Plato were alive he would argue that notion relentlessly
as he wanted there to be a distinct difference between him and the poets. I do
accept the arguments that the ancient quarrel between philosophy and poetry
brings, in saying that philosophy was in some ways mimetic of poetry. But the
truth in my opinion is that philosophy and literature are two totally different
things; similarities do not make us the same, in some instances it makes us
completely opposite.

“To finalise my
point, my dear child, we are alike but not the same. Just like Socrates and
Plato were alike they were far from being the same. You have a life of your own
and dreams that only you dream and wish to make reality. I give you my
blessings as my youngest child and wish you all the best in life. I am so proud
of you that you want to achieve your own worth and be an independent woman. I
hope your children with your husband in the future will turn out just like you.

“So go and fly
like the eagles of the skies and broaden your horizons, my dear child.

“Fly!”

Her father has tears
of joy filling his eyes and Sierra is bawling like a small child. She embraces
him as if he is the air she breathes. It is a moment of emotion and love that a
father feels for his child and vice versa.

****

The following day, Sierra books a
first-class flight to the Caribbean as she had promised herself a brief holiday.
She soaks up the sun and gets a lovely natural tan before embarking on a flight
to the Big Apple.

The airplane
finally lands in New York!

Sierra arrives
in New York, the Big Apple, the most prominent city in the world. The city is
overflowing with the rich and famous and those aspiring to be just like them.
Aspiring actors, singers and all types of people hoping to make a mark on the Big
Apple are outside the window of the yellow taxi that Sierra is sitting in. The
lives of the rich and poor intermingle as thousands walk to their destinations
on the busy streets of the city.

Sierra takes in
the whole bustling and thriving view of the city. She’s mesmerised as well as
shocked at the amount of people that flock the streets. The fashion conscious
strut their stuff as if they’re on the Parisian or Milan runways modelling
haute couture or whatever look they think is hot, while those that are hungry
for money care less for their attire. The eclectic nature of the pedestrians is
a marvellous sight for her. London was busy but nothing compared to New York.
She takes inspiration from the people on the street. She sees the hunger in
their eyes for whatever they want to be successful at.

Suddenly she too
becomes hungry to make it big in the Big Apple.

She has to make
it!

The yellow taxi
drives her to her new home. The driver helps take her suitcases to her
apartment. She pays him and gives him a generous tip of fifty bucks before he
leaves. Stood in her home, she feels an overwhelming sense of happiness and
sadness. She is happy at the fact that she is in New York, but sad that she is
no longer in London. Nonetheless, she opens the windows and starts to unpack
her belongings inside her new home.

CHAPTER 5

After having settled in her new apartment,
Sierra decides to go for a drink.

As she sits at
the bar drinking her martini, she notices him. He’s impeccably dressed with
knife-sharp bone structures that generate lust in her mind. His eyes are almost
fiery in their coldness as he quickly glances in her direction.

He is wearing a
fitted black suit, with a pristine black shirt, black tie, black shoes and
socks. His style is impeccable and so is his physique. She gasps as she watches
him intently. His dark and angry demeanour evokes desire within her. She watches
as he roughly runs his fingers through his hair. His icy-blue eyes quickly
spark once again in her direction and she gets to see how deliciously handsome
he really is. She slowly bites her lips and laughs quietly to herself.
She can tell that his physique is the envy of men and
the desire of women.

He pays no
attention to her while he engages in a heated conversation on his mobile phone.

It’s a late
evening on a Friday night and all the rich folks of the city are out enjoying
the pending freedom of the weekend ahead. She has no job yet, but she’s not
exempt from having a drink or two in one of the most exclusive bars in New York.
Once you have money you are always welcome at the Liberty bar, where half a
glass of rosé is priced at twenty dollars at the cheapest. Being rich is not
cheap.

Sierra stares at
Chad Perry, hypnotised by how dangerously handsome he is. He intrigues her with
his conspicuous mysteriousness. The blue in his eyes and a very slight touch of
tan are the only colour he has on him. The black compliments his well-built
frame, which Sierra can see as he frequently moves position during his phone conversation.

His attitude is
nonchalant with a controlled anger that spews out from the veins in his neck.
Every now and then he takes a sip of the brown drink in his glass. Sierra
admires every action he takes as she continues to inquisitively watch the
movements of his lips. His ice-blue eyes spark in her direction. However, she
knows he’s not looking at her but rather the vague character sitting a few
spaces behind her with his face shielded by the
New York Financial Times
.

The man behind
her is also on the phone but he’s almost inaudible to her sensitive ears. All
she knows of him are that his eyes are some shade of green. Her swift glance at
his eyes sends chills down her spine. His eyes may have been beautiful but the
ugliness of his brief stare was enough to show the monstrosity of who he might
be.

She notices that
Chad glances at the man behind her and
hangs up on his mobile, before leaving
a hundred-dollar bill and exiting the bar.

Enthralled by
him, Sierra knows she has to follow him and make a female excuse as to why she
happens to bump into him. Not wanting to be outdone by him, she too leaves a hundred-dollar
bill for the waitress and exits in pursuit of him.

The irony and
humour of her chasing after a man she does not know makes her laugh at herself
midway to the car park.

He finally catches
her eye. She stops in her tracks as he investigates her with his cold stare.

“I presume your
car is situated right next to mine, because it seems uncanny that a beautiful
lady like yourself would be following me,” he says in a cold, deep and sexy
voice.

Her voice loses
its tone as she immediately becomes mute, knowing that he has figured out her
intentions. He smiles mischievously and introduces himself to her while his
driver waits in his Rolls Royce.

“I may be
mistaken. You could just be a beautiful crazy lady, but I like crazy. In fact I
love crazy beautiful women.”

She laughs as he
eases the tension with an acquired sense of humour.

“My name is Chad,
Chad Perry. To what do I owe the pleasure of your witty pursuit on such a fine
evening?”

Sierra finally
regains her voice with an awkward smile drawn across her mortified face.

“Umm … I … I
thought you were someone that I knew.”

She knows that he sees
right through her lies, but as she tries to create a better lie his blue eyes
sparkle dangerously. Her heart rate quickens as he stares at her intently.

“You’ve still
not told me your name. So let’s just pretend I believe all that you’ve just
said. I’d like to know the name of such a beautiful liar. I know you don’t know
me because you’re British. I love the accent.”

They both laugh
as he sexily winks at her.

“You are far too
smart for an American. My name is Sierra Malcolm. Glad to know you like the
accent, not sure if I can say the same about yours,” she says sarcastically.

He laughs at her
remark and asks her a few more questions. The coldness in his eyes almost
disappears as they laugh and joke like people that actually know one another.
His voice is warm and deep which adds more to his sex appeal as Sierra admires
his full lips and everything else about him. His face is enticingly handsome
with perfect features made slightly imperfect by the hard manliness of his cold
stare.

Chad Perry is
the perfect man in her eyes; her opinion of him surpasses her opinion of
Sebastian. She knows there is something bad about him by the way in which his
driver seems visibly uncomfortable as he waits for his boss. This elusiveness
attracts her to him even more. He has an aura of mystery and danger that entices
her. She wants to know him, but most importantly she wants to be his. He
captures her heart within that moment. No man has ever made her feel like this.

His phone rings.
Chad looks at the caller ID but refuses to answer as he seems to be enjoying
his conversation with Sierra. However, he then begins to behave uneasily around
her and she senses it.

Suddenly a
stranger enters the car park, but before she can get a good look at him he
disappears into the limousine that is parked a few cars down from Chad’s car.
The only thing she sees are his green eyes that remind her of the ones she had
seen earlier in the bar. An ice-cold chill shivers down her spine.

Chad is about to
speak but his driver politely interrupts. “Boss, we have to leave now.” He
tells Chad that they are being waited for and need to get away quickly.

Sierra’s heart
almost breaks at the news that he needs to leave immediately.

“Take my number,
Chad,” she says eagerly.

He laughs and
takes her number and gives her a dashing smile and a wink in return.

The Rolls Royce
smoothly exits the car park, leaving Sierra to search for her rented Ferrari,
as she momentarily feels lost as to where she is.