Page 3 of Like a Hurricane

He storms from the fancy restaurant, tripping over his own two feet as he goes and I just grin into my wine.

Perhaps I was the problem.

But I know my worth and that man can’t afford it.

When the food arrives, and the poor girl realizes I’ve been ditched, her face loses all color.

“Don’t worry about it, babe,” I shrug, grabbing the cutlery on the table, ready to dig into my food, “He wasn’t worth it, but I am hungry!”

She sags in relief, “What about his dish?”

“I’ll pay for it,” I tell her, “Go ahead and enjoy it, or give it to someone who will.”

“You’re Arryn Lauder, right?” She hovers, chewing on her lip.

“I am.”

“You’re incredible, Miss Lauder. Really.”

I dip my chin, “Thank you.” I say and dig into the dripping steak on my plate.

I stack my dishes neatly on the table for the servers to take away, cradling the bowl of my wine glass in my palms as I survey the crowded restaurant in the heart of Portland. It reminded me of the foyer in dad’s hotel, all burgundy walls and gold accents. I don’t know why that was the color scheme the rich decided showed wealth but here we are. I knew most faces sitting at each table, like the producer two tables down sitting with a woman who isn’t his wife, or the woman enjoying a meal with her tycoon husband, even though she’s going to divorce him soon, despite the smile on her face that says otherwise.

I grew up in these circles and continue to move in this crowd. I don’t have many friends, or family. My dad, Victor Lauder, and my sister, Olivia, are the last remaining blood relatives I have.

As the eldest daughter of a man who owns a luxurious chain of hotels and resorts tending to the richest and most powerful, there are expectations of me. But fuck if I would let a man control me, even if it goes against what is taught to women like me at a young age.

I decided to step away from the hotel game young and went into modelling. I’d made a name for myself.

The Arryn Lauder.

Model. Entrepreneur.

I’d not only dominated the modeling space, but I’d come out with a line of lingerie to compliment all and every body type. And I’d ensured it was affordable.

After the modeling and business, I was heiress to the Lauder Hotels and Resorts.

I didn’t want my father’s business but knew it would come to me, nonetheless. My younger sister, Oli, would be a better fit, but she was overseas studying, and my father had made it clear the business would come to me, regardless of whether I wanted it or not.

I was sick of having my choices taken away.

But I’d figure it out. I always did.

Taking the last gulp of my wine, I let my eyes wander around the dining room, hoping to snag the attention of the server so I could get the bill, but my eyes fall on someone else instead.

A man.

He sits at the wall length bar on one of the high-backed leather stools, nursing a whiskey out of a crystal glass, and his eyes are on me.

And I recognize this particular man, I mean how could I not?

Tall, standing around six foot four, he towered over me back at my father’s office only a few days ago, his handsome face is lined lightly with stubble and his glacial eyes feel like they could touch every deep dark part of my soul. He’s ridiculously attractive, with his dark hair cropped short at the sides but left longer on top, letting it flop boyishly, charmingly, over his forehead. Dark, thick brows set over expressive blue, grey eyes and framed by lashes that would make any woman jealous.

And he has a dimple.

One that indents his right cheek when he grins.

And good Lord,thatgrin.

---