Page 3 of Forbidden (Wicked Billionaires #1)

LORENZO

After an exhausting work out, a long shower, and slow classical music, I feel calm. I’m used to maximum control of my environment, and I find the meal my five-star personal chef has prepared, and left.

I stand in my fluffy black towel, finally centered, and I eat the pheasant and venison slowly. The thing is, I should be happy, but I am not.

I have everything right at my very fingertips.

There is nothing I want, or need, but there is this. I am not happy, and I am not content . I have also slowed down on most of my conquests, and pursuits, of all kinds.

Women, exploring remote ancient ruins, buying movie companies and building companies.

It almost feels like, I’ve done all I can.

That there are no more conquests, or mountains to climb, and I am now starting to wonder, what is the point?

I grew up poor, and I understand the natural drive to generate wealth. I’m way beyond that, and it almost seems pointless to chase.

And chase anything…

As I ponder that, my personal cell rings. I check the caller ID, and it’s the only woman I love.

It is not my mother, because I have no family. I was an orphan, and I am alone in the world. It is what it is, I entered the world alone.

I will leave it alone.

As I consider not answering, I tell my hyper reclusive side to be a human. It is the one person in the world, who has shown me love.

As always it will be an honor to connect with the sweet, old, retired, secretary. She is as close to a mother, as I’ll ever have.

“Hello, dear,” the gentle woman says, immediately melting my walls.

“Hi Martha, so nice to hear from you. All okay?”

“Well, yes, dear, of course. You know me.”

“Great,” I say wondering where this will go. We talked a month ago, and I have a PI monitor her life, from afar. Just in case she ever needs anything, or anyone messes with her.

They wouldn’t, but I have her back. That’s because she helped me grow up, from age twenty, until now.

Martha was never just a secretary. She somehow became aunt, or mother-like. Someone who advised me on life, and she is someone, I look up to, and love fondly.

“Dear, do you remember once saying to me, that if I ever needed a favor, just to ask? Even staying in New York?”

“Of course,” I say watching the rain sweep across NYC, and crossing my thick arms.

“Well, a dear friend from South Carolina just called and if you don’t mind, I’d like to ask a favor. If that’s okay?”

“It’ll be a pleasure, anything in the world.” I’m serious and if it costs a billion, it’s done.

“Wonderful. Now, the woman has a young daughter, and she has just gotten a job in New York City library. She needs a place to stay for a little while, and… I thought of you.”

I rub my neck and try not to growl. “Interesting.”

“And, it may even help you solve your… reclusive side.”

“I like being a recluse,” I say, rubbing my temple.

“I know, dear. I know. Anyway, she arrives later today, and I forgot to call you earlier.”

“Are you serious?”

“Of course, dear.”

I wince, “Sure, but how old is she? Ten, twelve?”

“Oh, you are funny. No, she’s a sweet young woman, and she will keep to herself, like you. She is a bookworm, twenty-one and she charged through her degree. Her name is Georgia.”

Before I can tell her it could end in tears, my reception buzzer rings. “Sorry, hang on.” I say walking over, to hit the button.

“Sir, you have a visitor.”

Dear God.

“Is that her now? Oh, how wonderful.”

I moan low. “Look, this may not be the best idea. Twenty-one?!”

“Don’t be silly. Just keep an eye on her, and if you ever have a moment spare, show her a good time.”

“Martha!”

“But not too good, she is sweet after all. I only mention that because I know you dated a few… modern women in the day. Georgia is forbidden , do you understand?”

“Of course.” I say insulted. “But Martha… ”

“Look, I have to run, something in the oven. Love you, dear.”

“You too, but… ”

Too late. She’s gone. I sigh, with my eyes closed, and I hit the buzzer. “Okay, let her up.”

I look around, realizing I’m not dressed for a visitor, and my heart rate goes up. No one comes up here to the penthouse, unless it’s them .

The women in the day.

The ones I had… perform for me.

At least there are no things around from back then. No blindfolds, or panties hanging from lamp shades. No whips hanging from anywhere, and no masks, dildos or vibrators, designed to make women come like they’ve never come before.

Before I can do a quick sweep, I hear my elevator chime. Suddenly there is a knock at the large oak doors I had installed, and sometimes leave closed.

I adjust the towel under my flat stomach, and over my thick cock, and I prepare for chaos. I’m not fast enough, and the doors swing wide. “Jesus,” I huff, adjusting my towel fast.

“Oh, sorry,” comes out, in the softest voice.

My eyes snap up, to the most innocent looking woman I’ve ever seen.

I double blink at the sight. Big brown eyes. Mid length brown hair. Sweet. Small town, unlike the elegant catwalk types that came here in the day.

Literally.

As she sees my ripped body her eyes bulge. “Sorry, I… ” The poor girl has frozen, and she looks up at me, uncertain. “Look, is this a bad time?”

“No, I just got the call.”

I notice she’s dripping wet, and now shivering, so I open my oak doors wide. As she shivers, water drips from her lower lip, and I notice her nipples are hard.

I clench my jaw, and our eyes meet and hold.

The girl tries to avoid my glare, body and stomach, and she looks down to the marble floor.

Her problem? She is cold and wet.

My problem? My junk is outlined with the towel, and my cock is starting to harden. As she bites her lip, her white Nike’s turn in. I growl, extra low to myself.

“What?”

“Nothing,” I say in a growl. “Come. Please. Come in.”

The wet mess walks in, and her big brown eyes go wide. As she takes my stunning apartment in, she carries two of her big, cheap bags. I slide past her, inches away, and I grab the third.

I take the other two off her, and I carry all three. As long as my towel does not drop, we may get through this crazy glitch in the universe.

I take in her nervous energy. “Georgia, right?”

“Actually, everyone calls me Storm.”

“Sorry?”

“I was born during a storm. It stuck.”

“Right.”

Storm stops, and she looks around big eyed. “It’s huge.”

It should be, because it was rated as one of the best penthouses in NYC, last year. It also cost a small fortune. It is basically a fortress overlooking the city, and one of the best penthouses in it.

As our eyes meet, we share another awkward exchange. We’re both likely unsure what the hell is going on, and what the universe is doing to us.

Storm has one of those slightly turned up button noses, and she really does seem real, sweet, and uncomplicated. The opposite of me.

I am savage.

Anything but sweet.

Her nipples are clearly hard, dark, and big. They cut straight through her white wet T, and bra, now that both are beyond wet. Her long coat has done little.

I feel sick, and I cannot be feeling this way.

Storm is forbidden.

She has to go, and that is when it hits me. Storm has been sent by the universe…

To test me.