I hated that guy and he didn’t even exist in this scenario.
Sighing, I shifted in my seat. “Spare me the pep talk. I don’t need it.”
Jennika laughed lightly. “Oh baby, I wasn’t going to give you a pep talk. I was going to tell you it was probably for the best. Laila doesn’t date. And if she did? Well, let’s just say I don’t think you could handle her, and I don’t think she could handle you. It would be a big ball of fire until it imploded and burned down everything you hold dear.”
“Is that supposed to deter me?”
“Oh, I forgot.” She gently whacked the heel of her hand upon her forehead. “Flames and general catastrophe are what get your motor going.”
“You’re the only woman who’s ever truly understood me.”
“Lucky for all other women.”
“Ha ha.”
Jennika showed me her perfect teeth in a proud smile. “You’ll be fine, darling. You always are.”
“I could be if I had some company tonight. What do you say, Jennika? Come back to my place with me after the shoot. We can catch up. Keep each other company. There’s no need for us to spend the night apart when we know each other so well. It doesn’t have to be anything other than one night.”
Jennika studied me, and her narrow features narrowed even more as thoughts swirled in the depths of her dark brown eyes. “No, Storm. That door is closed.” She rose smoothly to her feet, reminding me of a gazelle or a swan, all grace and poise, and came to give me a hug. “A word of advice from an old friend?”
I stood when she released me and stepped back. “Do I have the option to say no?”
“Find a way to enjoy your own company, Storm.” Her smile softened.
“That sounds terrible. Why be alone when I can share my estate with a beautiful woman?”
“How can you expect other people to enjoy your company when you yourself hate it?”
Oof. “Fuck me, Jennika.”
She knuckled my shoulder the way a sibling might. “I already have. It was fun while it lasted. I’ll always care about you as a friend, Storm. I don’t say these things to hurt you. I say them to help you. Maybe one day you’ll understand where I’m coming from. Until then, I’ll see you around.”
She turned and moved into one of the trailers, leaving me standing under the heater, reeling in the aftermath of her truth bomb.
Jennika and I never were a perfect match. I knew that from the get-go. Some part of me always thought she did, too. We had fun adventures together and incredible chemistry, but there was no depth between us. No vulnerability. No quiet moments where we could just be.
She’d always challenged me to be better, and I’d always let her down. I’d known a week into dating her that she deserved better than me. Unfortunately for her, it took her a lot longer to figure that out, and I didn’t have the decency to cut her loose and walk away before it all came crashing down. Lucky for me, she was a woman with more forgiveness and kindness in her pinky finger than I had in my entire body.
Most of the time anyway. Jennika had fierceness in her, too.
When it became obvious that there had been an agreement on the set that no models should go out of their way to talk to me, I decided to leave. Chances were high my board of directors had some hand in this. Had they known I’d make it a point to head out to one of the photoshoots? I wouldn’t put it past Garrett. The smug, clever bastard was always one step ahead of me. He was more like my old man than he realized.
On the drive home I thought about Laila Hunt.
I thought about the curve of her thighs, full and smooth, and how good she’d looked coming out of the cold pond with drips of water running down her goosebump-ridden skin. I’d have liked a chance to give her goosebumps again tonight.
I thought about the way her lips curled in a siren’s smirk. She had power over men and she knew it. There was no way a woman who looked like her could be unaware of her own sexual appeal. She moved like a predatory cat, all sleek and powerful. She had muscles in all the right places, fat in all the right places, and a mouth that spat comebacks almost as good as mine. That above all else drew me to her more.
Thick, spicy, clever, and beautiful. What more could a guy ask for?
It was just past five in the evening when I drove through the gates at the front of my estate. Gone were the days where a security guard manned the little booth by the dial pad. My father used to take such things very seriously when he was in his prime. As a boy I remembered sitting in the back seat wondering why the security guard would always be so flustered when we pulled up to the gate. My father had never been very kind to me, and he was worse to his employees, regardless of whether they were estate staff or worked at the head office downtown.
He was a prick to his very core.
I drove through the gates. I kept an eye on my mirrors to make sure the gates closed and locked behind me. The tires of my car crackled over the loose gravel on the driveway that spanned almost half a mile and led deep into the back of the property, where the house itself sat nestled up against a greenbelt of trees. The trees were Thornton property, and some considered it to be a small forest, referring to it as Thornton Woods. I grew up playing in the creek down there, returning home for dinner to a scolding mother who would become upset at all the mud and dirt I trekked onto her freshly polished floors.
Mom had been a homemaker through and through. She didn’t grow up rich like my father had, so when he left her alone at the house all day to go into the office, she would give the house staff breaks and do their jobs for them just for something to pass the time. I didn’t realize until my late teen years that my mother had been a lonely woman, cast aside by a greedy husband. If I’d been a better son I might have noticed sooner and done something to remind her she was special to me.
But I’d gotten the hell out of this place as soon as I was able. I went to college for a couple of years before dropping out and living off my trust fund, spending most of my free time with Luke and his family—people who’d always welcomed me with open arms and saw me as Storm first and not a Thornton. Of everyone on this earth, they probably knew the best version of me.
I regretted abandoning my mother. Sure, I had seen her every now and then, mostly on holidays or special occasions, but I never wanted to be around my old man, and she had paid the price. She’d have forgiven me and understood, I knew, but I wished I’d been able to tell her I was sorry before she passed.
That was eight years ago. Four years after she died, my old man dropped dead at work in his office. Heart attack. Just like that. Some of his die-hard fans at the office liked to say he died doing what he loved. They were right but not entirely. They were referring to his love of his work. Truthfully, he did die doing what he loved—drinking.
I parked the car in my garage alongside my other ten vehicles. I moved inside, breathing in the smell of the old house. It no longer smelled like lemon Pledge or lavender air fresheners, as my mother always used, but more like an old fireplace. All the fireplaces in the estate were real woodburning ones, at a total count of nine. One in the grand room, the dining room, the sitting room, my father’s study, the master, the guest suite, the master bath, the outdoor patio, and the lounge.
None had been lit in ages.
When I inherited the estate I’d kept most of the house staff, but as months passed I found their presence unnerving. I didn’t like coming home to people working tediously on my home and preparing my meals. Eventually everyone was let go or moved on, and now I had a cleaning company come in once every ten or so days to do a full clean of the place.