Filthy Storm
Penulis
Breanne Jay
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41.6K
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49
Frankie meets life’s bruises with a bright grin, until optimism stops working and reality knocks louder. One rushed choice drops her into a world of flashing lights, strict rules, and a man built of ice and confidence. He is a celebrated quarterback with a reputation for impossible standards and a mouth that never filters. She is sunshine with a stubborn spine and no room left to fall. Their paths tangle in close quarters where sparks fly, tempers flare, and boundaries blur. As ambition, attraction, and survival collide, Frankie learns that storms can be dangerous and thrilling at once. Can a heart stay guarded when chemistry keeps breaking the rules?
Chapter 1: Calm Before the Storm
FRANKIE
Your dad needs this money, Frankie. Get a grip.
Frankie forced herself to stand upright as the young busboy gestured toward a transparent chiller encasing some small snacks. She was losing her grip on the edge of the cliff of exhaustion. She feared that if she let herself shut her eyes for a moment, she would fall completely into the void.
The busboy tilted his head. Frankie smiled at him brightly as if she wasn’t out of her head seconds ago.
“What you need to do is roam around with them every fifteen minutes until all the plates are empty. In between, make sure you attend to the guests when they need anything—easy, right?”
She slowly nodded. “Why aren’t they on the buffet table?”
“It helps to finish them when not served all at once.”
When Frankie mouthed an oh, the busboy pointed his thumb in the direction of the ballroom. “Well, the event is starting in five. If you need anything, find me.”
Then, as if letting her in on a secret, he signaled for her to lean closer so he could whisper in her ear, “Some staff can be mean to newbies, so please keep your yawns at a minimum.”
Before Frankie could say anything, the busboy had already disappeared into the busy crowd.
She shook her head as her palms sweat with those familiar first-day jitters. It couldn’t be that bad. She was feeling fatigued, yes, but she had been doing her best not to let it leak into her voice and her appearance.
Did the extra layer of concealer not work? She narrowed her eyes at the disappearing busboy warily, pursing her lips in thought.
The kitchen’s quiet rush when she first came in now shifted into a panicked flurry of activity. Clamoring pans now rang in her ears, along with swooshing fires as the chefs prepared the dishes in haste. All the staff were zooming from one spot to the next.
I can do this, she thought to herself. I worked two jobs before. I can keep these stupid eyes open for another four hours.
Then something—rather, someone—occurred to her who had been missing since she clocked in. Amid all the hustle, her new friend, Adam, who got her this gig, was nowhere to be seen.
Frankie met him the week before when she was delivering cakes from the diner she was working for as a full-time waitress. He had been kind and accommodating, offering her some insider scoop about the most famous socialites this hotel was catering to. A conversation she indulged in more than she should have.
She shot a quick text asking where he was before putting her phone in her locker. He didn’t inform her whether he would be a no-show that night. It would suck greatly to work her first day without the very reason why she was here.
Maybe he’s just late, she told herself and walked out of the kitchen with a plate in hand.
The Grand Ballroom glimmered in gold, from the gigantic suspended chandeliers to the elegant table decorations. Frankie couldn’t help but gape at the glamorous, possibly magical place she was in.
She struggled to keep her hand with a plate of so-called snacks erect as the guests started to pile in, each one equally as sophisticated and very much looking like they belonged there.
A woman caught her attention as her eyes wandered around the crowd. It was something that couldn’t be helped when she was one of those people whose presence commanded a room.
She had platinum-blonde hair that complemented her alabaster skin very well and bright ruby lips that, if she weren’t looking closely enough, took away the attention from her stunning silver gown that hugged her curves sculpted with age.
“That’s Mrs. Storm.”
Someone whispered beside her, causing her to jump in surprise, her hand flying to her chest. She turned around, exhaling in relief when she saw who it was.
“Jesus Christ, Adam!”
The guy was half a head taller than her, his brown hair neatly covered in a hairnet. The slight lift of his plump lips gave him that American boy-next-door look.
“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “You okay?”
“When did you come in?”
“I just did. Got caught up with something.”
“You got another side hustle better than this? You’re very hardworking, Adam.”
He chuckled, his eyes twinkling with concealed amusement. “My dedication can be a little bit overboard when rewarded with a backdoor rendezvous.”
Her brows furrowed as she worked around what he said in her brain. “I’m not sure I get what you mean…” Seconds later, like a light bulb suddenly lighting up above her head, her mouth formed an O and her eyes widened, and Adam smirked in amusement.
“Oh—Oh. I didn’t know.”
Adam dismissed her ignorance with a flick of his hand. “Not like I have a sign on my chest announcing it to anyone I meet.” He pursed his lips toward the ballroom, lowering his voice into nothing but a breath. “Keep your eyes on Mrs. Storm. She may or may not have eye candy on her arm later on.”
Frankie raised a brow. “You sound like you see that eye candy often.”
“Not just see. Hear too. You’ll hear his name before you see him, especially in that room.” Her eyes followed what he was pointing at: the kitchen. “And well—he’s not exactly low profile either.”
She tilted her head. “Is he an actor? A supermodel?”
“Even better.” Adam winked. “Before I indulge you with how panty-soaking he is from one to ten, I have to ask—are you okay?”
Frankie snorted. “Is it really that obvious?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Just a bit tired, but there’s always an adjustment period for everything.”
“That’s true. Well, don’t push yourself too hard, sweetie,” he said before blowing her a kiss. “I’ll meet you later, ’kay?”
When Adam was finally out of sight, Frankie walked around the room and politely offered the platter of snacks to the guests. Some were nice enough to give her a kind smile; some were simply snobbish; and some demurely grabbed a toothpick without glancing at her.
It was simple work, less stressful than her shift in the diner, but no less depleting as the hours wore on. At one point, she indulged herself with some extra-strong coffee in the break room before pushing herself once more.
However, while her caffeine-induced pulse beat erratically throughout the night, she watched Mrs. Storm out of the corner of her eye. It was past a quarter to nine, though. The event was almost coming to an end, yet the eye candy in question was still nowhere to be found.
At least one of them was right about one thing: the senior staff is snooty. She shrugged with nonchalance and turned around to double-check if all her plates were empty, ready to call it a night.
Adam walked past her as she navigated through the growing crowd in the break room. “Seems he’s a no-show,” he scoffed.
“Night hasn’t ended yet. Thought you were a no-show earlier too. Look where we are now.”
He lightly scratched the side of his head as he walked backward, wrinkling his nose. “Got a point there, hon.”
She chuckled and continued to the locker room. Grabbing her bag, she claimed her salary, then sent a text to Adam, telling him she would be waiting for him at the back. He briefly mentioned that the kitchen staff needed to do some nightly ritual before leaving, so he said she could go ahead.
What it was, she wasn’t sure. Her brain was too exhausted to even try.
“Find one before the end of the month, or I’m firing you too.”
A gravelly male voice halted her short trek down the hallway and out into the cold night. There was a large silhouette leaning on the back door, his back to her as he spoke quietly into his phone that was resting on one broad shoulder. His hand flicked his expensive watch restlessly.
Judging by his nonwrinkled dress shirt and loose tie, he was one of the guests from the event in the ballroom.
Frankie briefly debated with herself whether to walk along without acknowledging him or to wait for him to finish his call, but thought better of it. It isn’t like he would care.
But as she was about to take a step, the stranger turned around, and she was suddenly held hostage by a pair of dark, stormy eyes.
