MASSIVE
1025 Words
The gloomy morning light reflected throughout the silver-lined room. Tall glass graced as windows from above to floor level throughout the four corners of the room.
Leonard Marcel Kendrick, a handsome 25-year-old billionaire, awakens in his high-rise Manhattan penthouse.
Standing 6 feet tall, he possessed an intimidating height. Leonard's silhouette is slant yet powerfully erect, the product of a ruthless fitness regime as sleek as his business strategies. His movements were exact, his expression undecipherable a calm, intentional presence with a commanding aura. He had spotless skin, his eyes sparkling, and he gave a clear reflection of green and amber, and he surveyed the room in silence. His gaze held threats they wouldn’t miss a single angle and would catch every necessary detail at one short glance.
After a warm bath, he walked out of the warm shower, a white towel used only once resting low around his hips. Water was slicking down his toned chest and abs. Some strands of his wet hair clung to his forehead.
He proceeds to a walk-in closet which feels more like an atelier walls lined with black suits, made with rare and unique items. The fabrics are exceptional: lightweight Japanese wool, Italian cashmere, and smart textiles with micro adaptive temperature control. He dressed in a set that gave him an expensive look as usual and expressed black once again as his favourite character.
His shoes were made by an Italian cobbler who is yet to retire because of Leonard, they sit in a refrigerated compartment to sustain the leather's grain. He slips into a pair effortlessly. His wrist watch, a limited-edition black-dial Patek Philippe with a rare silver meteorite embedded, is fastened last. It's not just a timepiece it's an assertion.
Around him, technology abides. The room changes temperature as he nears the exit. His grooming is already complete, with skin diagnostics, and a shave so clean it looks sculpted. Every other thing ticked check.
Leonard doesn't speak unless important. He doesn't smile unless strategic. He is glamour and peril in one frame a menace in silk armor. And as he exits the bedroom, the scent of his bespoke cologne a blend of black oud fills the room. As usual, he never dresses for success that already exists. He dresses for dominance.
**********
One of his many custom-made cars he decided to ride in today is the 2025 Aston Martin Vanquish, as they approached a certain familiar area his chauffeur gradually brought the car to a halt.
Leonard sitting behind, lowered the rear window and looked out of the vehicle.
The view wasn’t pleasing to him, even with his usual calm aura, he was clearly annoyed by the unkempt environment, the families there appeared malnourished.
A little boy, one could guess his age, five years old, barefoot and dusty, sprinted up to the car. He held up a depleted ball, his eyes fixed on Leonard.
Leonard let out a small, rare smile. He gestured gently for the other children nearby to come closer. One by one, he placed crisp bills into their tiny hands, patting each of their heads as he did something entirely out of character for a man who avoided physical contact unless it was with something spotless.
"Why don't you come here always?" the little boy asked, his big eyes full of pure inquisitiveness.
Leonard's smile tarried, unusually soft. His voice, deep and clear, a voice that could silence a room was gentle as he replied,
"I work, Aaron."
Aaron frowned, his small brows furrowing.
Leonard stepped out of the car, prompting his driver to quickly follow. He crouched to meet Aaron at eye level.
"Candies on Saturday?" Leonard questioned with a small smile playing halfway of his lips.
Aaron's face looked glad immediately as he nodded enthusiastically.
Leonard’s goodbye wave was brief, he walked back into his car and shut the door. The harsh thud made by the door was a reflection of a mood. His demeanor had shifted. Immediately he placed a call the mild look he had placed on his face for the children was suddenly gone.
"Fire everyone in charge of the marginalized home," he ordered coldly.
He had donated a huge sum to develop that area and care for its people. The perception of its current condition made one thing clear someone had abused the funds.
Before long, Leonard arrived at his towering skyscraper Golden Globe Gates.
The building glistened in the sunlight, a symbol of extreme success and influence.
When the car pulled in, a line of impeccably dressed staff stood at the entrance, forming a ceremonial path to welcome him as part of the company's daily formal tradition.
Daily? Well for days he comes to work.
Leonard walked into the building, Immediately, a sharp-looking young man fell in step behind him. His chief secretary, Jeff Bright, briefcase in hand, began cataloging Leonard's schedule with crisp efficiency.
As they passed through the sleek corridors, Leonard took in every detail the cleanliness, the posture of employees, the subtle glances, and murmurs. Everything. Everyone.
When they got to the top floor, the doors opened to reveal Leonard's office a proof of wealth and power.
Just before stepping into his office, Leonard turned slightly towards his secretary.
“An assassin this time?” He asked Jeff bluntly.
Jeff nodded his head in agreement, “It appears so.” His tone sounded like a code.
"Would you want me to change your chauffeur again?" Jeff asked.
"Soon."
Leonard replied.
The full-height window which offered a broad view of the city gave the office a unique view of freedom and ecstasy. There was something about Leonard that he designated his environment exactly how he wanted to feel within, but certain life circumstances made him the opposite of how he truly wanted to be.
There was a rare object that sat in a corner of the office the meaning only known to him.
A state-of-the-art desk solid black glass with golden accents stood at the center, simple yet imposing.
He took his seat, eyes ever sharp, mind already several steps ahead.
Resting on the well-organized desk, a nameplate read: Leonard Marcel Kendrick, Chief Executive Officer.
- Writer
