STORM
I released the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding as a surge of dread gripped me by the throat. Not because I would be spending time with Reed, it was the baggage he had unknowingly brought with him that unnerved me.
On the sidewalk outside the tall, imposing building that was The Ritz Hotel, there was a sea of reporters. My head snapped forward, away from the crowd. A man with his camera raised like a gun jogged over to my car. I side-eyed him as he peered inside the vehicle as I drove past. Luckily, I wasn’t what he was waiting for as he turned back to his piranha-like colleagues and shook his head.
I guessed they were there for Reed, but their presence couldn’t have had anything to do with the Palmer case, as he hadn’t come forward yet. He’d messaged to say that he was in discussions with Mia, his PR team, and the team's lawyers. He’d told me that he’d spoken to Ma and his brothers about what happened to prepare them for when he went public. I was still struggling to get my head around it.
I pulled my Audi into the parking lot, having just ended a call with Jasper about the wedding rehearsal dinner.
Another van drove into the lot, and more press jumped out. What the actual hell? The agreement with the charity trust was for a journalist from our local press to produce a brief entertainment piece about the spoils from the Gala. Mary-Jane Piper and her perverted photographer, Daniel, were the usual suspects who covered the article on the date, so why did it look like a Paparazzi feeding frenzy?
Because Reed wasn’t a normal guy: he was a celebrity. News of the date must have been leaked to the national press.
Oh dear, that meant there would be even more eyes on us. I wondered what Reed’s Head of PR would think about that? Engaging the electronic brake, I screwed my nose up, fucking Lens Hounds: Jasper wouldn’t be impressed either.
Keeping my huge sunglasses on, I stepped out of my car, running sweaty palms down my jeans, suddenly feeling underdressed. Reed had told me to wear comfortable pants and a warm coat for some strange reasons: it wasn’t cold out, yes, there was a breeze, but the sun was sitting high in the sky. Considering the time of the year, the weather was good.
Straightening my shoulders, I grabbed my phone from the holder on the dashboard, pushed it into my puffer jacket, and closed the door. During my call with Jasper, he’d asked me several times to call the event off, saying it wasn’t fitting anymore with the wedding being so close. There was no way that was possible with Reed paying such an exorbitant price for my company. Daddy would flip his lid. The trust had already decided to use a sizable portion of the funds on habitat restoration.
Smoothing back my hair, I kept my head down, the heels of my Louboutin boots clicking against the sidewalk as I rounded the building.
I didn’t look towards the crowd of people as they swarmed around the main entrance into the hotel like wasps. As a handful of reporters glanced at me with curious expressions, I walked towards a young couple taking a selfie in front of the large bronze sculpture that sat to one side of the double doors. They were clearly tourists. I offered to take a picture of them with their phone.
As I snapped a few shots, they thanked me, and I walked around the back of the statue. Glancing briefly towards the hotel, I could see the reporters had thankfully lost interest in me.
Lowering myself onto one of the benches, I attempted to listen to what they were all saying, but could only make out a low hum of conversation.
Glancing up and down the street, I wondered if Reed thought I was meeting him inside. Surely the Paps wouldn’t be able to enter the hotel without permission? My hands started to itch as I contemplated what to do. The old Storm wouldn’t havegiven a shit and would have held her head high and sauntered past the bottom feeders without a care in the world. But I wasn’t that girl anymore, the one who craved attention.
Releasing a pent-up breath of frustration, I side-eyed the babbling bunch. There were around twenty people, most of them male, holding cameras and staring down the road with expectant expressions: champing at the bit. I wondered where Reed was. If he stood me up, I would literally rip his balls off.
As I lounged there with anxiety pulsing through my veins, my phone vibrated in my pocket. That feeling of being scrutinized resurfaced, and I saw a couple of other reporters speaking behind their hands as they looked over. I averted my gaze, withdrawing my phone. They couldn’t see half my face due to my glasses, not that they would have recognized me anyway. Since Daddy stepped down as the major a couple of years ago, public interest in me had dwindled radically.
It’s a circus out front.The message said.Yeah, no shit.Meet me around the back by the staff entrance.It was from Reed. No hello, just straight to the point, typical. I glanced back towards the group of people. They were like starved dogs waiting for a bone. A woman with a microphone in her hand and an unfortunate perm smiled and waved at me, her head tilted with a questioning look. I turned away.
Pocketing my cell, I pushed to my feet and started walking around the side of the building, out of sight. The hairs on the back of my neck bristled. Was the microphone-wielding reporter following me? I didn’t turn around as I upped my pace.
As I got to the back of the hotel, I heard two loud revs of an engine, like the purr of that jaguar I had watched on the Discovery Channel the other week: a low, throaty roar.
And then I saw him: the sexy biker guy who pulled up next to my car that day by the fire station. My stomach plummeted through the ground. As if sensing my presence, his head lifted, the sun reflecting off his visor. He wore the same matching leather pants and jacket. I’d recognize that beautiful bike anywhere. I stopped, mymouth dropping open as he lifted one gloved hand and crooked finger, telling me to go to him. A thrill ran up my spine as my feet moved on autopilot. He was straddling the bike, that hand now on his hip, looking uber-confident and sexy, the fingers on his other hand were positioned on the throttle. Again, another two revs. Fuck, why was the sound such a turn on?
As I reached him, my mouth dried up, and a thousand questions rotated around my head. What are you doing here, was the first one.
The smell of diesel fumes and leather circled in the air as he flicked the visor up. My heart almost stalled in my chest as I saw Reed’s eyes staring back at me.
Of course, Reed fucking Prescott. Silly, silly Storm.
“It was you,” I whispered-shouted to be heard above the noise of the engine.
Reed didn’t reply. He twisted in the saddle and unhooked a helmet from the back of the bike, holding it out to me.
I glanced down, a puzzled expression on my face as panic and excitement flooded my insides.
“Take it,” Reed said firmly, the noise slightly muffled by his own helmet as he thrust the item forward.
My hand lifted automatically as I withdrew my sunglasses and pushed them into my pocket before gingerly taking the helmet from him. I could tell from the creases around his eyes that he was smiling, and my lips did the same. I was in awe.
Shaking my hair back, I pulled the helmet on over my head. I’d never worn a motorcycle helmet before. It fit perfectly as I tugged it down past my ears. Reed then shifted, motioning me closer, and I moved towards him, my thighs bumping his as he started to fiddle under my chin. I bent my head back to allow him to fasten the catch, and as I did so, there was a crackle in my ears.
