Page 71 of Forbidden
We’ll never be over.
Dear God!
Lorenzo calls my name, and I quickly block Billy’s new number. “You’ve got this,” I say. “And calm the hell down.”
I inhale, center myself, and walk out.
22
LORENZO
I do not like the fact she’s going on a date, and I do not like the fact I’ll have to spend the night with another woman. It’s beyond wrong.
We,us, are a good thing, even if we’ve not had sex.
The thing is, there’s a high chance, Storm, and I would not be sexually compatible.
I have very unique needs, and Storm is practically a virgin.
I would ruin her, it would be like the Beauty and the Savage Beast.
Shaking my head to clear it, I pull on the fresh black suit. The black representing my foul mood, the suit because I likely have control, and issues relaxing.
I walk into the living room, perfecting my tie, and I have a whiskey. I wait anxiously, and I start to pace.
I do not usually pace, but Storm, and some random guy. No F-ing way!
Maybe I should have her random busted up outside the restaurant, just before he enters.
Then, Storm and I could have dinner together.
I can easily intercept my date and tell her its off. She is after all, just some model I took back in the day.
I sigh and tell myself to stop being a moron. I am still pacing, when I hear high heel shoes on my marble floor. Turning, my tense jaw drops. “Jesus.”
“Do I look okay?”
Storm looks sensational, and I turn to the window behind her. I then decide to lie. “The weather will get cold tonight. Maybe you should cover up.”
Storm is wearing a stunning black dress, and a cute black cloak. She is wearing high heels, and a black choker is around her neck.
She also has smoky eye makeup, and she is drop dead gorgeous.
“I’ll be fine.”
Storm looks like she should be on the cover of a fashion magazine, and she gives me a cold look. She is nothing like the small-town girl, I first met. She is confident, striking, and chic.
“Would you like to travel together,” I ask huskily.
I cannot believe it. I’ve just asked a woman out, and I feel nervous. As if I’m asking a girl on a date, aged sixteen. It is official. I am losing my shit.
No, I lost my shit with her at the party in Napa. Surrounded by friends, vineyards, roses and statues.
I’ve asked top models, and heiress’ out for a decade. Even two European princesses, but now I am this?
Storm walks up to me, and she takes my whiskey from me. She steps closer, and she drinks it down in one. “My God, that’s good.” As she smiles, she says, “let’s have a stiff one.”
After pouring two whiskies, we look down at the city. It’s as if tonight, everything will change.
