Page 34 of Forbidden (Wicked Billionaires #1)
LORENZO
It’s good to have some time in one place, and to not worry about flying my jet. It will also be good to have Alfred close for a few days. The older English gent has looked after the large property for years, and helped take care of things.
Alfred lives on the Hampton property, and he has quarters down the back that look up the coast. His quarters are stunning, and someone once offered to buy his studio for a cool three mil.
I get up early, and as the sun rises, I look across the ocean. I finish the second movie script, and the first two are great. That is enough for me.
I email Chris Remington on the spot. I tell him I want the screenplay rights to them both. I am willing to pay whatever the price is.
After a thirty-minute swim, Storm and I spend the morning on the beach, and inside my beach home.
She and Alfred talk, it’s great she gets along with everyone.
I have only brought two other women here, and that was messed up.
They both treated Alfred like a butler, and rudely.
I did not ask them back. In fact, I never saw them again.
After lunch, we pull on warmer gear, and we fly north, up the chilly coast. We fly past Martha’s Vineyard, Nantucket and Cape Cod.
We head towards a friend’s remote rural home, and his estate is on the water.
The senior is an entertainment banker, and he is one of the best in the world.
The reason I take my chopper, and not the jet, is so we can have the meeting at his residence and get in and out fast. There’s no landing strip anywhere near his remote home, and his estate is on the rugged coastline.
It’s also winter, and the roads out to his home can get icy this time of the year. I need to get in and out, and I don’t do drama, unless I approve it in a screenplay.
As the banker and I go for a long walk along the beach, I lift my collar against the cold. We discuss what I am seeking for expansion, and what global entertainment banks may be open to regarding several billion of debt. Also, with favorable rates, terms and conditions.
He advises I consider private equity firms in Boston, Wall Street, Silicon Valley, and a new unit in Monaco.
Finally, we agree to a time frame, and his fees, to help secure funds. To in effect broker a deal for entertainment capital I require. The aim is long term steady capital, and controlled expansion. Just like how I do all of my business.
After returning, we have a hot drink in his kitchen with Storm and his lovely wife.
It’s fresh and cold out this far north, and we discuss the horses around his property. The banker’s wife is an ex Olympic show jumper from Texas. She now breeds horses, and they have a wide mix on the estate.
She offers Storm and I two horses, and we decide to take a short ride up the coast together.
The long remote beach is private, and the day clear and crisp. As we ride, the cold wind bites, and Storm in the tight borrowed jodhpurs and long black boots distract me.
Having her tight butt so visible, and riding up and down feet away, gives me filthy thoughts.
I plan ahead, and I think of her tonight, as the cold winds pick up.
As grey clouds head towards us, I decide enough is enough. We are dressed warm, but we are in a remote location. A location with no help anywhere near.
After returning the horses, we pull on thicker jackets, and the clouds drift closer. We head back down the coast, and the winds pick up. Out, it’s as cold as hell.
All alone in the sky, and miles from people, vehicles, and buildings, we streak low over green pastures. As we bank around remote beaches and endless icy cold inlets, Peregrine Falcons and other birds fly about.
To give them space, I bank us slowly around in a dramatic arc, and we head down the remote East Coast of the country.
There is little between us, Nantucket, Matha’s Vineyard and The Hamptons. We are on the extreme east coast north of New York City and we are all alone.
It is calming, and it is desolate.
As we streak low over near freezing coastal waters and land, Storm points below.
As always, we are wearing headsets to communicate with, and she asks me to turn around. I slow, and I bank carefully as I look down.
As we peer below, we make out a Peregrine Falcon flapping. It looks stuck in the near frozen water, and something has damaged one of its wings.
“It may have fishing line around it, or fence wire. Hold her above.”
“What?” I ask, confused and throwing Storm a look.
Storm is already unclipping herself, and she climbs between the seats and into the back. After looking around, she finds the emergency capsule and an extra jacket. We already have cold weather boots, jackets, and gloves on, but outside here is next level.
Outside, the combination of wind, and near frozen water is dangerous and potentially lethal.
As Storm hits the back side-door button, she yanks the emergency jacket on fast.
“Hey, what the hell are you doing?” I growl losing patience.
“Just hold her steady,” Storm yells above the rotor blades. As she pulls on emergency gloves, she peers down, wind blasting her hair.
I peer below and I think fast. I know we can’t land close to the falcon, because it will be blown away, and likely have both of its wings damaged. We need to use the winch, or Storm needs to be dropped to the ground nearby.
As Storm points below to the water, her hair blasts in all directions. “See that swampy island, near it? Hover above, and over it.”
“You’re crazy!”
“That’s not helping!”
“No, way!” I yell.
“If you want in my pants again, you do it!”
No one has ever talked to me like that. It’s disturbing but refreshing. Finally, someone who stands up to me. But now, and fucking here?
I quickly, control my frustrations, and stabilize the chopper.
The cold winds don’t help, but I slide us fifty feet to the side.
In the back, the crazy woman clips into the safety harness, and she quickly checks the electronic winch. She peers below, and it looks like she’s calculating the high-risk rescue.
Her planned selfless, act will likely have her walk through near freezing water to rescue the animal.
No one I know, would give saving the near dead falcon a second thought, and especially in this situation. And certainly, no woman I’ve ever dated.
No one has Storm’s level of integrity.
And no one has her moxie.
I suddenly realize, I love her for it, and I hate her for it. In equal measures.
“Look, I hear you,” I say, trying to control her wild side, and the chopper. “But it’s too far. You could freeze to death,” I say through the headset.
“Stop wasting time!” she yells back, loud, and fast.
I cuss, as I rotate the chopper on the spot in the winds. I’m having to hover far enough away from the falcon, but not too far. Too far will mean Storm drowns, or Storm gets too exhausted in the icy waters, and can’t make it back out.
It takes me a full extra minute to perfect our position in the winds, before I lower us straight down. Finally, I hover feet above the island swamp, as the winds buffers us, and the water ripples below.
“Pick me up in ten,” Storm yells, before she rips off the headset, and leaps.
She runs with gear she has found in the back, it looks like a tarpaulin, pliers, and safety goggles of all things. She trips, staggers up, and runs without looking back.
I lift the loud chopper, and for safety, I pull away without blasting her and the falcon with too much wind.
How the hell she expects the wild predator to not claw and shred her face, hands and arms, is beyond me.
I’ve not seen anyone risk their life for a wounded wild creature in some time.
My job investing in entertainment, is all about risk. But it is also based on logic, and rooted in control. This, here and now… This is not me, even if it’s maybe, the old me.
The real me.
I then have a crazy thought, that maybe, just maybe I’ve become too selfish, too controlled, and I only focus on business. And maybe I’ve stopped caring.
Caring about others and caring about the needy.
As I try to keep the chopper in one place, and above her, I check the fuel gauge. My stomach sinks, it’s as if I’ve been punched hard in a boxing ring.
I did not expect such heavy winds to burn fuel on the trip and the fuel gauge is extremely low. If we do not get out of here in a matter of minutes, the chopper will drop into the near frozen water.
And Storm, I, and the falcon will all die here.
I make a mental note to protect my down-side more in the future, and if we make it out of here alive, I will build a life with Storm.
Whatever the cost, and whatever the consequences.
I look below, and Storm is unwrapping the canvas tarpaulin that usually keeps the tools in the back. As she pulls on the safety goggles, I talk through gritted teeth. “Come on baby, move it.”
I check the fuel gauge, and see it’s now entering red. Next, it will flash.
This, here and now, totally insane.
As Storm steps towards the big falcon, I see her mumble something. The predator flaps its free and large powerful wing, and it opens its lethal beak, and hisses .