Filthy Storm

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

FRANKIE

IT WAS HER WORST DAY OF THE YEAR.

"HEY!" Frankie snapped in frustration at the cab driver who sped past her, causing dirty rainwater to stain her pristine clothes.

She had just gotten her dress laundered days before her interview, a creamy print silk dress she bought at the local Goodwill store for ten bucks. It was one of the few nice pieces they had and she owned, but it was now soaked with splotches of smelly, dirty water.

Her once shiny hair updo was also twisted in disarray, and her flawless makeup was thoroughly smudged. The building where she was about to have her interview was still a few steps away and she was already five minutes late. Talk about looking your best.

She only wanted to get it over with at this point. Didn't matter if she would get accepted or not. At least she showed up.

It was a good thing she brought an extra shirt and pants in her bag. The clean set was supposed to be for her post-interview comfort, but she had to wear it now in front of a celebrity's manager. She outwardly cringed at the image of herself looking like a peasant, while the manager stared down at her being surrounded by riches she would never be able to afford. Again, the worst day of the year.

The security guard gave her an odd look, his eyes traveling from her head to toe before he reluctantly addressed her. "Excuse me, miss, may I know who you're visiting?"

Frankie straightened her shoulders, already having enough of what was in store for her that day. She swore she would burst if the man would even look at her the wrong way. "Uh, I'm supposed to meet with Ms. Dara Mansson at ten AM. But before that, is there a washroom around here where I can freshen up? It's been a long journey getting here."

He smiled politely. "There should be one around that hallway." He gestured to the left of the reception desk. "Can I get your name, please?"

The man nodded at her to tell her that she was good to go after confirming her visit with Ms. Mansson.

Frankie didn't even let the stares and whispers of disdain being thrown her way bother her as she walked through the enormous lobby. She had one mission and that was to reserve the last shred of dignity she had left for the interview.

As she rounded the corner, a group of bulky men had gotten off the elevator. Their voices filled every nook and canny of the large space as they continued throwing jabs at each other. Not one person had spared them a glance as if their raucous banter was a regular occurrence in those halls.

But then, Frankie wasn't a regular there. So when she lifted her head to get a good look at the group, she almost tripped on her feet.

Oh, God.

A few steps ahead of her was the man who twisted her insides with endless, unbridled pleasure not too many moons ago. And also the same man she owed thousands of dollars.

He was as breathtaking in the daylight as when she last saw him. A man seemingly larger than life itself captivated everyone in the room who dared to look. Frankie couldn't help but think how fitting his namesake was. While he was hypnotizingly alluring in the dark, accentuating all his rough yet handsome imperfections. He was equally mesmerizing when the sunlit room brought out the glow in his tan skin, blond hair, and every edge of his masculine features.

Apollo Storm.

She couldn't believe it at first. It couldn't have been that small of a world to have them cross paths this way. But she had already come to terms with the fact that the lady's luck wasn't on her side that day.