Page 1 of Delicate Storm

PROLOGUE

PAIGE

Christian stalks toward me, his hands outstretched as though he’s ready to wrap them around my throat. A game we used to play until it stopped being fun.

“You’re a goddamn menace, you know that?” he scoffs as he shakes his head.

“Me,” I yell. “I haven’t done anything.”

“Just tell me what you know.”

“I told you.” I step forward, getting in his face. “I didn’t see or hear anything.” I’m lying, of course, and he probably knows that, but without proof, he’s got nothing. Like me.

Christian stares, his pupils dilated, as a few seconds tick by. And just when I think I’m going to have to repeat myself, he releases a quick breath. “Either way, we’re done.”

“Fine by me.” A shiver runs down my spine, but I keep my posture straight, confident, refusing to let him see how rattled I am. “Feel free to leave.”

“It’s funny that you think it’s going to be that easy.” He laughs sadistically. “I’m not going until you pose with me. For old times’ sake.”

My skin crawls but I put on a smile. He’s right—we need to do this or we’ll be gossiped about for months. “Where do you want me?”

“Our favorite spot.” He dons a fake smile of his own before stepping out onto my balcony, expecting me to follow without a word. And I do. Because I want this over with just as much as he does.

He perches on the edge of the hot tub, positioning himself with the sparkling New York skyline as his background, beckoning me over. “Come on, baby. Let’s show the world we’re amicable.” He smirks, rolling up his sleeves to show off his arm candy. And God knows, his arms arecandy. Everything about this man used to make my mouth water with hunger. Chiseled jaw, peppered with the perfect amount of stubble. Dark piercing eyes. Perfectly plump lips. Abs made of steel. He’s the definition of Adonis.

But he’s a dick and I’m done with his games. And the rest of it.

I’m ready to make my own moves.

I gloss my lips as I walk over and sit beside him, letting the split in my skirt fall open as I angle my legs toward his. A signal of comfort. I’m happy, he’s happy, we’re allgoddamnhappy. Plastering a signature smile on my face, I lean in and laugh. “Ready when you are,babe. But don’t ever call me ‘baby’ again.”

Christian raises a brow in challenge and I look away. “You love when I call you baby, but”—he grabs my chin as he leans closer, turning me to face him—“consider it retired.”

Dropping his grasp, he reaches for his phone and positions it in front of us, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “Say… best friends.”

“Best friends,” I repeat cheerily, the lie tasting bitter in my mouth.

“Okay. One more now. Three, two, one.Smile.”

Socialite Paige D’Angelo and Billionaire Christian Mikkleson confirm their split after months of speculation. The pair shared the news together on their social media platforms, claiming the split was a mutual decision.

EASTON

I stare at my sister, a rage simmering under the surface of my skin.She’s the messenger. She’s the messenger.She’s the messenger.

“Don’t kill the messenger,” she pleads, raising her hands in the air, alerting me to the fact that maybe my rage isn’t as hidden as I thought.

“How are we only just finding out about this?” I question, working hard not to aim my anger her way.

“They were worried you’d try to shut down the show,” she says, a little defeated because…

“Rightly so. This is bullshit, Keeley. I didn’t sign up for that.”

I didn’t sign up foranyof it. During what was thebiggestseason of our football careers, the Storm owner—or ex-owner now—decided it would be a good idea to welcome the filming of a TV show centered around the team. It was met with backlashfrom day one, but they persisted, and when episode one aired,afterwe won the Super Bowl, it quickly soared to the number one spot.

Everyone’s watching it. My mom, my sister, supporters, players from other teams…

And Isaac.

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