Chapter 25
Dane
Iwait until long after the sun sets to go to Lucy’s cottage.
Nico clearly already has his suspicions, but it’s not like I want to give him a chance to goad me. Or to interfere like he has been, every chance he gets, at the office.
Nico has been frustratingly consistent about making sure I don’t get Lucy alone. If she’s in my office, he’s popping in for a chat. If we’re getting into the elevator together, he ducks in right before the doors shut.
And he’d had a lot of fun with that little stunt, taking her off to his boat. Of course, he’d produced the new investment money as proof that he really did need her, but I still didn’t like it. Especially when he went dead silent for hours after, not answering any calls or texts.
Now, I slip out of my room and down a back hallway, ducking out through the kitchen door. I have to walk through the thick of the tropical growth for a few minutes before I break back out onto the path, just beyond the curve that obscures most of her cottage from ours.
To my relief, there’s a light on inside, glowing warmly through the front window.
The glass on all the buildings is German, a special engineering that allows it to appear frosted from the outside but clear from the inside. So you can look out at the view, but people outside can’t look in on you.
Around me, the forest chirps with life—bugs and frogs and nocturnal birds singing together. The sounds calm me.
For nearly two decades now, we’ve been doing this retreat, which means the sights and sounds of the island are ingrained in me. This is the one week of the year when we relax and allow our minds to wander.
Admittedly, for Nico, it’s not quite that important. But for Cole and me, the break is essential. We tend to be single-minded, to focus intently and not come up for air.
So we need the isolation.
Maybe it’s a bad idea to mess with the formula we have going by making a visit to Lucy while on the island. It could be bad for our business, disrupt the natural cycle. But I’m past making logical decisions when it comes to this woman.
I stride to her front door and raise my fist to knock, thinking at the last moment that I should have brought something—flowers? A bottle of wine?
A sound from inside has me pausing just before I rap my knuckles against the wood.
It’s a voice.
Cole’s voice.
My entire body goes rigid, and, wanting to make sure, I lean in, nearly pressing my ear to the wood to listen. Sure enough, it comes again, a voice that is unmistakably Cole. I can’t make out what he’s saying, but I know it’s him from the cadence, the pitch.
Spend thirty years of your life working with a guy, and you get to know him. I can pick out Nico or Cole walking down the hallway by the way their feet sound hitting the ground.
It comes again—a laugh, a low murmur. Lucy says something, her lilting, delicate Midwestern accent unmistakable.
It’s rare that I’m paralyzed. Typically, my first instinct is always to act.
But right now, I stand completely still on her little porch, heart thudding in my ears, emotions warring inside me.
Disbelief. Anger. Surprise.
And something stickier than that, crawling over my skin, like irritation.
I should be the man in this cottage with her.
Not Cole.
I would never expect this out of Cole.
Nico? Sure, of course—in fact, I’m shocked he hasn’t done something like this, trying to get to Lucy after realizing I like her. But Cole hardly notices anything but what’s in front of him.
Of the three of us, Cole and I are the ones who clash the most.
He just wants to solve the problem and create the best product. Even if that means flying to Brazil and not even bringing back viable material. He’s perfectly content to make very expensive improvements to a product even when it doesn’t mean a large return on profit.
My job is to look at the bottom line, make it as large as possible while maintaining our reputation. We never compete on price, not in any of our ventures, but that doesn’t mean every product needs a ten-fold improvement for a small increase in margins.
Cole and I do not see eye to eye on that all the time. He’s often the last of us to get bored with a venture, and Nico has to work hard to get him re-oriented.
In fact, Nico has to work hard to make sure Cole and I aren’t at each other’s throats. When it’s good, it’s electric, the two of us working off of each other like well-oiled machines. But when we come to an impasse, our insistent, bull-headed natures usually steer us toward a stalemate at best.
Did Cole sense my interest in Lucy? Is that what he’s doing down here?
No. That, again, feels far more likely coming from Nico.
There’s more laughing and murmuring from inside, and I’m still frozen outside. Maybe it’s not what I think. Cole could be here for another reason.
I can’t think of one right now, but it’s so absurd for Cole to be here that I can’t accept him pursuing her romantically. It’s been years since Cole even seriously looked at a woman, let alone took the time to do something like this.
We’ve had our fair share of opportunities. Nico partakes happily. I occasionally bring a woman home, but especially over the last few years, Cole has seemed far more interested in work than dating.
Time continues to stretch on as I stand in the doorway, convincing myself that it’s not what I think. Cole briefly mentioned Lucy having the idea for the disinfecting cases. That must be what he’s doing down here. Talking to her about the product.
And I can’t knock on the door without first making up a reason for me to be here.
I could say I saw the light on and wanted to make sure everything was okay—but I can’t actually see the light from our cottage.
I could have been out for a walk, but Cole would know that I have an exercise bike in my room, and that’s always what I use for exercise when I’m here.
Finally, panged with a bitter sense of disappointment, I decide that I’m going to turn around and try again tomorrow. I even take the first step away from the door.
Then, breaking through the trills of nature and the thick wall of the cottage, I hear Lucy’s voice.
Strangled, low, “Oh my god,” slipping through, half-pleasure, half-dismay. The exact kind of sound she was making when I had her bent over the back of the couch, her moans like cries, sobs, pleading and chanting at once.
Fury hurtles through me.
Without thinking, I turn and slam through the front door, thinking that I might just kill Cole.