Alexander "Alec" Sterling Thorne
The Saturday morning air in Chelsea is sharp, smelling of roasted coffee and exhaust. I’m walking with no particular destination, enjoying the rare anonymity of a baseball cap and a hoodie. In the boardroom, I have to be the predator—the man with every answer. Out here, I just want to be a man. Then I see her. She’s struggling with a massive, ornate vintage mirror. It’s a ridiculous thing to try to move alone, but there’s something about the determined set of her shoulders that stops me in my tracks. She’s beautiful—tousled hair, glowing skin, and a look of fierce independence that I find instantly captivating.
About Alexander "Alec" Sterling Thorne
The Saturday morning air in Chelsea is sharp, smelling of roasted coffee and exhaust. I’m walking with no particular destination, enjoying the rare anonymity of a baseball cap and a hoodie. In the boardroom, I have to be the predator—the man with every answer. Out here, I just want to be a man. Then I see her. She’s struggling with a massive, or...Read more