LUST AND LOVE Seven Director Husbands

Ariella's POV

Black is the color of power, but today, it's also the color of grief.

The limousine door swings open, and I step onto the lush green grass of the Sinclair Memorial Gardens.

Immediately I do, Camera lights flash and blink so quickly at my face that they match the rapid beat of my heart.

"Miss Sinclair! Over here!"

"How does it feel to inherit the empire?"

"Did your father leave any parting words before he died?"

I don't answer them and instead keep my head high, thankful for the black veil that's currently covering my face although it's trembling slightly in the gentle wind.

My father was a tyrant in a suit, but now he's a corpse in a coffin.

The empire he built- Sinclair Global Holdings- stretches across every single industry you can name: tech, finance, arms, fashion, real estate, pharmaceuticals and entertainment.

And now, all of it belongs to me.

"Miss Sinclair," I hear someone call, but I don't turn, thinking it's the press till a hand grabs me gently by my arm.

It's Richard, my father's attorney, in a suit that looks way older than I am.

"They're waiting for you," he tells me, giving me a look I can't exactly tell what it means with those small eyes of his.

Nodding I follow him through the sea of mourners, giving only a brief look and a nod at each of the faces that blur past me

There are politicians with fake tears, socialites with crocodile smiles and business rivals heartlessly calculating their next move against my father's company at his funeral.

But there's one particular row that draws my eye as I walk by, moving closer to their spot.

It's a row of seven men, all in black suits that make them look like undertakers rather than directors.

They're the Seven---- at least that's what we call them collectively------ the men who ruled my father's empire in his name.

I slow my steps to look at them properly even though the moment's too brief.

Rafael, the director of Tech is leaning back with a smirk, having the audacity to have a calculating look in dark eyes.

Damon, the director of Finance is sitting with his back straight and coldly runs his gaze over me in a way that sends a shiver down my spine.

Luca, director of Fashion, is sitting cross legged with a designer scarf that is draped rather artfully across his chest.

Carter, director of Arms, is smirking, actually smirking, with dark amusement in his eyes and I just faintly catch sight of the tattooes peeking out from his cuffs.

Elias, director of Real Estate, is just smiling----- deceptively I'm sure.

Jace, director of Pharma is completely stoic with his arms hands folded across his chest, and looks at me as if I'm a lab rat.

And Tristan, director of Entertainment, is lounging with an easy smile curving up his lips. His smile looks so playful that I almost think his eyes are wicked.

I swallow hard, feeling my heart hammer as I final walk to stand in front of them.

Why do I feel like these men will be a problem to me?

They all rise to their feet at the same time.

"Miss Sinclair," Rafael drawls. "Welcome to the future."

"Future?" I repeat and my voice ends up coming out harsher than I had intended it to, then Damon speaks and I turn to face him, almost freezing on the spot by the kind of look he gives me.

"Your father's death changes nothing. Sinclair Global Holdings still stands, and you, Miss Sinclair, are now the face of it."

A bitter laugh rises in my throat and I retort "His legacy, you mean. His empire of lies."

Luca's smile is soft, and almost sympathetic at my words as he says, "Empires are built on more than lies, darling. They're built on power, and power demands loyalty."

I open my mouth to throw his words back at him, but Richard steps forward, clearing his throat to get all our attention.

"If you'll follow me, Miss Sinclair. The will is to be read in the boardroom."

'Boardroom', I can't believe this----- even here, at my father's funeral, everything is business.

The boardroom is a glass walled room and when we walk in the Seven Directors immediately take their seats around the table and fix their eyes on me.

I, however, refuse to sit and instead stand at the head of the table while my hands tremble slightly at my sides.

"Get on with it, Richard," I snap.

Richard opens a thick leather folder from a briefcase and begins to read;

"Per the last will and testament of Mr Alexander Sinclair, all assets and controlling shares of Sinclair Global Holdings are bequeathed to his only child, Ms Ariella Sinclair."