I watch her slip on the black Valentino high heels, slick back her hair, and finish her catlike eyes.
She is so stunning. I feel like the luckiest guy in the world.
After dinner on our roof, as the sun sets, we check on Falcon, and we leave in the Bentley.
Alfred is in the city, and after he drops us off, we enter the event, hand in hand.
It’s becoming our way, and in large gatherings, Storm often takes my hand. I have come to adore it, and I’m sick of being alone in events, and sick of having women target me.
I also like Storm close, and I know she dislikes getting separated in large unknown crowds. It’s still hard to remember, she is technically a small-town girl, and at times she is still under confident.
I enjoy protecting her, holding her soft hand in mine. I want men to know, she is mine, and only mine.
As we circulate, and talk to NY state dignitaries, plus people I know from showbiz, we drink, and we mingle.
It is not too unpleasant, and there is unexpected artwork on display.
Even if I notice several morons checking Storm out, I keep my anger in check. She is my girl, and only mine.
I enjoy watching Storm spend more time in my world, even when an ex walks up, and tries to peck me on the cheek.
Storm’s eyes flare, and she stares daggers.
As I pull back from the heiress, I make my position clear, without even thinking. “This is my girlfriend.”
My ex’s eyes change, then she turns her Botox filled face, on Storm. “Delighted. I’m Candice.”
The Hamptons blue blood is rude enough to stick around, and soon she makes us both feel uncomfortable.
I cannot fathom what I saw in her, but in the day she did a lot of catwalk, and looked better. It’s time to lose her, and I share a quick look with my girl.
Candice has started discussing careers, and she has made it obvious, she thinks modelling is prestigious, and complex.
Storm controls herself, and the aging catwalk model, and faded blue blood pushes her a step too far.
“So, walking straight must be very hard, at times” Storm says. Perfectly flat, and perfectly timed.
Candice starts to explain it is, and I have to turn my head, to hide my smile.
Finally, the woman gets it, and she flicks her hair, and lifts her Botox filled face. She asks Storm what she does, and she is short, and rude.
Jumping in to protect my girl, I decide to push back. “Storm has taken it easy for some time, haven’t you?”
Storm raises a brow, as if asking me WTF.
“You just have that English literature degree, correct?” I pause for effect. “Oh, my mistake, I forgot. You’re also basically, a pilot, very dangerous with a sword, competent in Italian, and you can dive to five hundred feet. You can also salsa, as good as any in the city.”
The aging model freezes, and she lifts her chin an extra inch.
She then quickly knocks back her champagne and makes an excuse to get another. As she cuts through the crowd, and safely away, Storm steps up, and kisses my cheek.
“Why, thank you, dear.”
“My pleasure, dear.”
“I so can’t believe you fucked her.”
I almost spit out my whiskey, before I give her a look. “Well, what else was I going to do? You were slow in… coming.”