PROLOGUE
Château De Luca.
De Luca's Ville.
The way her moon shadow-black hair dance in the wind and tumble over her shoulders as she throws her head back laughing at something old man Andre must have said, would make any one desire to be part of her world, even myself. And that's what dares me to saunter towards them.
Times without number, Andre, my head vineyardist has mentioned his daughter and just how much she means to him. How everything he does is for her sake and her future.
I couldn't really understand him since I have never met this his daughter. But being a fellow father and having my own little thirteen year old gloriousness, I could tend to relate because I know just how much my Riva means to me.
But if this is she, the all-time talked about daughter of Andre, then no doubt, I agree with the man. Totally.
She laughs without a care in this cruel world. What one would give to be a part of hers.
It might seem petty and pretty stupid and immature, but when she greets me and I hear her low and tremulous voice flavored with a bit of sultriness, I find myself in a pretty awkward state.
"Bonjour monsieur "
That is all she says that makes me jealous of Andre. She has such a bouncy personality that reflects in her sugary voice, which I adored.
Just the mere thought of him waking up to that voice every morning and greeted by her face seemed to be far better than mother nature's sunrise.
"Good Morning dear, good morning Andre" and I see her eyes light up with, is it surprise or confusion? Maybe because I greeted her father, my employee.
The sun has nothing on this wonderful creature it has kissed. And that makes me jealous of the sun too.
Black has never been this beautiful, and giving a little credit to that dumb - no offense - Instagram hashtag #melaninpoppin I see everywhere, I have never seen melanin pop this much all in one person.
She has a kind of - probably - understated beauty, perhaps it was because she seems to be so disarmingly unaware of her gorgeousness.
Her black skin is completely and naturally flawless, with a mildly tinted hue of burnt sienna.
Her complexion is completely burnished, and not like I hadn't set eyes on a thousand and one black women during my visit round the world or even here in France but I swear I couldn't have enough of hers.
And in the next six minutes as Andre fills me in on what I've missed for the time I was away from Bordeaux; I study almost every bit of her. In a not so creepy and stalkerish manner.
She has a sculpted figure which is twine-thin that sit over delicately protruding hips carried by what I assume to be infinitely long legs since I can't see them through the ankle length gown that adorns her body.
But I can't be too wrong considering she was about seven inches below my six feet three
She suddenly looks my way and her eyes meet mine, her crescent shaped eyebrows incline slightly as she catches me staring at her but I am not taken offguard.
I have never been scared of appreciating wonder when I see one, and I definitely can't start now. So I keep my calm and smile at her.
I notice her perfectly carved eyebrows arch again, sweeping over long languid eyelashes of velvet-black. This woman's beauty can one day be the death of somebody.
Filed to perfection, her carmine-red fingernails in an unconscious act of discomfort runs through her beautiful hair, spools of it plunging around her photogenic face and hid a slender neck, elegant and smooth.
And I am tempted to inch closer and reach for the stray tendrils and tuck them behind her ears. I know her hair is beautiful, but I don't need it shrouding her more beautiful face.
It could only have taken a supernatural sculptor to fashion her delicate seraph ears - pierced by white hoops - that frame a cute button nose which sits over full lips that look lilac soft and honey sweet.
Then her most striking feature, her eyes. I have never seen one with eyes that sparkle with immense innocence.
They are an enticing constellation of rapture-grey which were a-sparkle with the 'joie de vivre', eyes that tell different stories of a woman in her prime.
The dark of her eyes are simply spellbinding -not needing kohl to look like a Northern Nigerian bride - they are like two pure beryl jewels melted onto snow. Each one holding a coruscate gleam that enhances their beauty. And hers also.
Then whatever Andre is saying ambles back into my head and what I manage to pick is how she has just finished university and is thinking of helping around before furthering her studies or getting a decent job.
Crazy old man. He just indirectly termed his employment under me 'indecent'.
"Do you need a job?" I find myself asking and I have no idea why I am, but I don't regret it, though I don't really need new employees, it wouldn't hurt to have a personal human sun light up the place.
She looks at me and then to her father and back at me, and I can see how hard she tries and fails miserably to battle off the uncertainty that glistens in her eyes.
Then she flashes me a smile, her beguiling, halo-white teeth lighting up and adding life to the vineyard.
If I haven't been paying attention to her already, her megawatt smile could have jolted me like an electric current and hypnotised anyone into giving her their full attention on a silver platter.
"Not at the moment, merci monsieur " she blinks her eyes alluringly as she speaks, allowing her eyelashes to flutter like the wings of a butterfly.
How could one be this beautiful?
"very well then, do take care of yourself" I tell her before forcing myself to look away from her and face Andre, so it wouldn't get any more awkward.
"See you around Andre" and your daughter too. I turn and walk away. With one last thought lingering on my mind.
I might not know her name, but for now that didn't really matter. Because there is one thing I could be sure of, I'd either find my way into her world or find a way to impel her into mine and make her mine, and mine alone. il mio sole.

Have any questions? ...you can just ask me 😁

