Haruchai
As you wish.
- Joined
- Sep 27, 2011
- Location
- United States (CST)
The Darrow family. An institution in Silicon Valley. A billionaire technology mogul enterprise that is felt the world over. Based in San Francisco the name Darrow is synonymous with not only wealth but philanthropy as well. Funding various housing programs, technology programs for schools and the elderly and holding various events throughout the year to raise money for charities.
The family has even gone so far in their kind-hearted ways to adopt a little girl, raising her alongside their own biological son and daughter. To the public, everything is perfect. The large mansion, the fast cars. Admired and respected, or loathed - everyone has an opinion on the darrow family.
Solomon Darrow VII was the heir to his family's fortune, along with his sisters, though as the oldest he already had access to that immense trust fund that had been established much earlier in his life. The man was unlike how most people would expect a man of his upbinging to be. He was, of course, intelligent and very educated, logical and ruthless in his business dealings, and though he did have a wide streak of kindness to his personality, it was normally only show to those in his family or very close friends. Which were few.
No, Sol, as he was normally addressed, was a fun-loving man, and in his late High School and then Univeristy years, had strayed a bit from beneath the sheltered life his parents had provided. Covered in ink, the young man had been the frontman for a mildly successful heavy/speed metal band. That had not panned out and try as he might the young Sol had been drawn inexorably back to his family and the wealth that they had amassed. The young man had to admit that he liked the life of luxury it afforded him.
Now in his twenty-third year of life, Sol had grown into a man proper. Standing at 6'1" tall, the young man was well-built. A fast lifestyle, coupled with regular exercise and a good diet had the young man at the peak of health. Toned and muscular and in his business suit, one would never guess at the body that lay beneath the Armani. The young man has been called home to watch his younger sisters; his biological sister is a few years younger and the daughter that the Darrow family adopted from South America has just graduated High School. Being the eldest of the children it falls to Sol to make sure that he keeps things at the Darrow household undercontrol while their father and mother tour Europe over the summer.
Three months. Three months Sol has control of the household with the elicit trust of their parents. With an open checkbook he's expected to not let things get off the rails.
Fat. Fucking. Chance.
The Ferrari Spyder pulled into the long driveway of the Darrow Estate and in moments it was shut off and Sol stepped out. Tucking the keys in his pocket his intense hazel eyes surveyed the home and looked out over the beach before he began to ascend the short stairs that led into the home. The jacket came off first as he entered his room and he was soon stripped down. He hated those pointless fucking meetings. He knew all the ins and out of the business and his father's advisor, a man by the name of Walter Grant, had been the one left in charge. Which in Sol's estimation was just fine. The problem was that they still required his presence to sit in for his father and that was all he fucking did. Sit in. Bored beyond beliefe he wished there was a way to get out of the meetings but he only had to sit through a couple and he was done.
The seven-head shower pelted him with massaging cascades of water and he scrubbed down and when he got out he dressed simply; comfy jeans and a light blue tee. His study was smaller than his father;s but he still managed to have a well stocked bar and some fine smokes. Pouring himself a bit of bourbon he took a seat on his leather couch and lit up a cigar, just relaxing for a bit. He had no idea where his sister's were but he figured they'd be home soon, or call him if they weren't going to be.
The family has even gone so far in their kind-hearted ways to adopt a little girl, raising her alongside their own biological son and daughter. To the public, everything is perfect. The large mansion, the fast cars. Admired and respected, or loathed - everyone has an opinion on the darrow family.
----------
Solomon Darrow VII was the heir to his family's fortune, along with his sisters, though as the oldest he already had access to that immense trust fund that had been established much earlier in his life. The man was unlike how most people would expect a man of his upbinging to be. He was, of course, intelligent and very educated, logical and ruthless in his business dealings, and though he did have a wide streak of kindness to his personality, it was normally only show to those in his family or very close friends. Which were few.
No, Sol, as he was normally addressed, was a fun-loving man, and in his late High School and then Univeristy years, had strayed a bit from beneath the sheltered life his parents had provided. Covered in ink, the young man had been the frontman for a mildly successful heavy/speed metal band. That had not panned out and try as he might the young Sol had been drawn inexorably back to his family and the wealth that they had amassed. The young man had to admit that he liked the life of luxury it afforded him.
Now in his twenty-third year of life, Sol had grown into a man proper. Standing at 6'1" tall, the young man was well-built. A fast lifestyle, coupled with regular exercise and a good diet had the young man at the peak of health. Toned and muscular and in his business suit, one would never guess at the body that lay beneath the Armani. The young man has been called home to watch his younger sisters; his biological sister is a few years younger and the daughter that the Darrow family adopted from South America has just graduated High School. Being the eldest of the children it falls to Sol to make sure that he keeps things at the Darrow household undercontrol while their father and mother tour Europe over the summer.
Three months. Three months Sol has control of the household with the elicit trust of their parents. With an open checkbook he's expected to not let things get off the rails.
Fat. Fucking. Chance.
----------
The Ferrari Spyder pulled into the long driveway of the Darrow Estate and in moments it was shut off and Sol stepped out. Tucking the keys in his pocket his intense hazel eyes surveyed the home and looked out over the beach before he began to ascend the short stairs that led into the home. The jacket came off first as he entered his room and he was soon stripped down. He hated those pointless fucking meetings. He knew all the ins and out of the business and his father's advisor, a man by the name of Walter Grant, had been the one left in charge. Which in Sol's estimation was just fine. The problem was that they still required his presence to sit in for his father and that was all he fucking did. Sit in. Bored beyond beliefe he wished there was a way to get out of the meetings but he only had to sit through a couple and he was done.
The seven-head shower pelted him with massaging cascades of water and he scrubbed down and when he got out he dressed simply; comfy jeans and a light blue tee. His study was smaller than his father;s but he still managed to have a well stocked bar and some fine smokes. Pouring himself a bit of bourbon he took a seat on his leather couch and lit up a cigar, just relaxing for a bit. He had no idea where his sister's were but he figured they'd be home soon, or call him if they weren't going to be.