Page 136 of Forbidden
LORENZO
I flew back from Europe as fast as I could, but at the same time, disgusted. Disgusted at what had happened. Not just at the chaos, and universe, but how I handled it.
I should have known better, but I am still unsure exactly what I did wrong. I likely should have acknowledged Sophia’s behavior a few days ago, and closed her down. I should have seen the signs, and told her to back the hell away, or fired her on the spot.
I could sense Storm’s radar had picked up on Sophia, but I thought Storm, and I, had it under control. Now, we are screwed.
We are broken, andweare no longer.
After trying to take off lightening, fast, from the small airport in the South of France, I hit a glitch.
The last night of the movie market had every man and his dog’s private jet booked to depart.
I finally paid three people off, and I spent a small fortune. After, I flew my jet recklessly low across the Atlantic. They will fine me over that, next week, but money is the last problem I have.
I have lost her.
Lost the love of my life, and maybe forever.
After landing in JFK airport, I drove at a ridiculous speed, and I slide into the penthouse carpark. After running into my empty penthouse, I stopped out of breath. “Fuck!”
She’d done it, she had taken all she owns.
After pouring a strong whiskey,I knock it back fast. I avoid calls, messages, and emails from my US staff welcoming me back, and asking if I need anything. I notice nothing left by Storm, and I don’t like it.
I suddenly remember the falcon.
Even if Falcon is nothing like a child, it feel like he is ours. I feel he needs respect, and love, for lack of a better term, and I should respect what we have done by saving him, together.
As I prepare food for Falcon in the kitchen, I find a note. My body tenses up, and my jaw tightens.
As I lean against the kitchen island, that we’ve had sex on, eaten on, cooked on, even had food fights on, I force myself to breathe.
It is a handwritten note, and cold. As cold as I was, way too often.
I thought we were special.
I thought I meant something.
We, us…
We are dead.
Find another.
My heart sinks and I stop breathing.
There is one other thing on the paper, a water mark, or a dried drip. Maybe, just maybe from a tear. I pour another large,needed whiskey, and I head up to the rooftop with steak for the falcon.
The peregrine falcon walks along the ledge near me, and it cries out as if in greeting. I mumble a few words, and I reach out. I tried to feed it from a gloved hand pre film market, and it had not worked.
After a few seconds, the falcon comes closer, and it pulls the steak from my fingers. We look at each other, and as the sun sets, he eats steak, and I sip the aged whiskey. As it flaps its wings, it looks around.
I look closer at it, and Falcon looks like he has gained strength in the week we’ve been away. The wings look almost the same, and he is favoring one, far less.
I leave the rest of the steak near him, and he eats it from a bowl, almost like a large dog.
I sit on the white sofa, that I taught Storm how to kiss on, and after, to fuck on. I sigh and I look at the falcon. “Well, it looks like we’re both fucked, now.”
