Chapter 12
HALLIE
The ocean stretched endlessly before me, dark and mysterious under the night sky. I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders, trying to ward off the cold wind. The yacht cut through the water with barely a sound, its engines a low hum beneath my feet.
This was surreal. All of it.
Two weeks ago, I’d been cutting hair at the salon, worrying about making rent, dreaming about someday having enough money to fix up my dad’s beach house.
Now I was standing on a yacht that probably cost more than most people made in a lifetime, wearing clothes I could never afford, pretending to be engaged to a man I’d once loved and now couldn’t stand.
It was a lot. I had to get away from him and just process everything.
My mind was all over the place. I was excited. Sad. Irritated. I couldn’t seem to get a real grip on my emotions.
“Mind if I join you?”
I turned to find Frankie approaching, bundled in a thick coat that looked both practical and expensive. She had two mugs in her hands, steam rising from both.
“Please,” I said, grateful for the company.
She handed me one of the mugs. Hot chocolate, I discovered when I took a sip. Real hot chocolate, the kind made with actual melted chocolate instead of powder from a packet.
Of course.
“You okay?” Frankie asked, leaning against the railing beside me.
“Yeah. Just taking it all in.” I gestured at the yacht, the ocean, the whole ridiculous situation. “This is a lot.”
“I can imagine.” She took a sip from her own mug. “Colt’s world can be overwhelming. Trust me, I grew up in it, and I still find it exhausting sometimes.”
“It’s so beautiful out here,” I said with a sigh. “I’ve never been out on the ocean at night.”
“Does it scare you?” she asked.
“Scare me?”
“The ocean is huge. At night it’s so intimidating. I’m not sure I’m a fan.”
I smiled. “No. It’s not scary. I’ve always loved the ocean.
My dad used to take me to our beach house in the Hamptons every summer.
We’d spend hours just sitting on the porch, watching the waves.
It was simple. Peaceful.” I looked around at the yacht’s gleaming surfaces, the perfectly arranged furniture, the crew moving silently like ghosts. “This is not that.”
“No,” Frankie agreed. “This is Colt showing off. Making sure everything is perfect and expensive and impressive.”
“Mission accomplished, I guess.” I took another sip of hot chocolate, letting the warmth seep into my cold hands.
“The beach house—my dad’s house—it’s not fancy.
Just a simple three-bedroom place. Needs a lot of work.
The paint’s peeling, the porch is half-rotted, the plumbing is temperamental at best.”
“Your dad lives there full time?”
I suppressed the little sob that always tried to come out when someone asked me about my father. “No. He passed away. I inherited the house.”
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “Do you visit the house often?”
“Not as much as I would like. It’s where all my best memories of my dad are.
Where he taught me to fish, even though I was terrible at it.
He would make his famous pancakes that were somehow always burned on one side.
I can still see him sitting on the porch with his coffee and his crossword puzzle every morning. ”
I could see it so clearly in my mind. Dad in his rocking chair, reading glasses perched on his nose, pencil tucked behind his ear. The sound of the ocean mixing with the creak of the chair. The smell of salt air and coffee.
I inhaled, smelling the familiar scent of the sea and just took a moment to revel in the memories the smell evoked.
“I want to restore it,” I continued. “Make it beautiful again. Not fancy. It’ll never be fancy. But comfortable. Somewhere I can take my kids someday. Somewhere they can make their own memories.”
Frankie nodded. “That’s what you’re doing this for? The beach house?”
“Mostly.” I wasn’t about to tell her about the revenge part. That seemed like information she didn’t need. “The money will be enough to fix everything and then some. Give me a safety net. Let me breathe a little.”
“That’s a good reason.” She paused. “A better reason than most people have for getting involved with my brother, honestly.”
I turned to look at her fully. “What do you mean?”
“I mean most women want Colt for the lifestyle. The status. The bragging rights of landing New York’s most eligible bachelor.” She wrapped both hands around her mug. “You just want to fix up your dad’s house and honor his memory. That’s pure. Honest.”
If only she knew.
“It’s funny that we’re at sea right now,” I said, deliberately changing the subject. “In the dead of winter. Most people would wait for warmer weather.”
“Most people aren’t my brother.” Frankie’s tone was dry. “Colt gets an idea in his head and nothing—not weather, not common sense, not basic safety—will stop him. He’s like a force of nature. Obnoxious and unstoppable.”
“Obnoxious billionaires,” I muttered. “Is that redundant?”
She laughed but was smiling. “In Colt’s case? Absolutely.”
We stood there watching the dark water roll past. I appreciated her company. I liked her. She was kind. And nothing like her brother.
“Hallie, can I ask you to do something for me?”
“Sure.”
“Please don’t hurt him.”
I blinked, certain I’d misheard. “What?”
“Please don’t hurt him.” She turned to face me with a hint of sadness in her eyes. “I know he seems tough, like nothing could possibly touch him. But he’s not as invincible as he pretends to be.”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “Frankie, your brother is a sociopath. You can’t hurt him. Believe me, I’ve tried.” The words came out before I could stop them.
Her eyebrows rose. “What does that mean?”
Shit. I’d said too much.
“I just mean he’s clearly very good at compartmentalizing. At keeping people at arm’s length.” I scrambled to cover my tracks. “He doesn’t seem like the type to get emotionally invested in anything.”
“He’s not usually,” Frankie admitted.
“Plus, I knew him. Back in high school.” The words tumbled out. I immediately wanted to take them back. But it was too late now. “He’s still the same immature playboy he’s always been. No offense.”
Frankie went very still. “You knew Colt in high school?”
“Briefly. We ran in similar circles.” I kept my voice casual, like it didn’t matter. Like he hadn’t broken my heart. “He was always popular. Always surrounded by girls. Always moving on to the next conquest.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“People don’t change that much.” I looked out at the ocean, unable to meet her eyes. “He’s a billionaire now, sure. More power, more money. But fundamentally? He’s the same guy who only cares about himself. And he’s still a playboy. Bigger than he was back then.”
“Hallie.” Frankie’s voice was soft but firm. “Colt isn’t what he seems.”
“He seems like an arrogant ass.”
“Exactly. He seems like that. But you only see what he lets you see.” She sighed and turned to face me, her elbow resting on the railing.
I turned as well. She looked like she was about to deliver some very big news and wanted my full attention.
“There’s more to him than the brooding attitude and flashy lifestyle. Deep down, he’s a good man.”
I bit back the urge to laugh in her face. Good man? Colt Jesson? We clearly knew two very different men.
But he was her brother. I understood loyalty, so I kept my opinion to myself.
“I’m sure he is,” I said instead, not feeling like arguing the point with her.
“Just don’t be mean to him, okay?” Frankie sighed. “He may be an asshole sometimes—okay, a lot of the time—but he’s also been through things no one knows about. Things that shaped him into who he is.”
“Haven’t we all,” I murmured.
“Yeah. We have.” She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I should head to bed. Big day tomorrow when we dock at Shelter Island. Colt has approximately seventeen events planned.”
“Of course he does.”
“Goodnight, Hallie. And thank you. For doing this. I know it’s not easy, pretending to be in love with my brother. But it means a lot to him. Even if he’d never admit it.”
She left, and I was alone again with the ocean and my thoughts.
Colt, a good man. The idea was laughable.
But Frankie had seemed so certain. So protective. Like she knew something I didn’t.
You only see what he lets you see.
I shook my head, dismissing the thought. Frankie was his sister. Of course she’d defend him. Of course she’d want to believe there was more to him than met the eye.
But I knew the truth. I’d learned it ten years ago on that beach.
Colt Jesson cared about one person: himself.
I headed back toward my stateroom, exhausted from the day and ready for the warmth of my bed. The yacht’s corridors were quiet, most of the lights dimmed for the evening. I was almost to my door when I heard voices.
I paused when I heard Colt’s name. The voices were coming from a small room with the door slightly ajar.
“I can’t stand him,” one voice said, male and frustrated. “The way he talks to us like we’re nothing.”
“He’s a dictator,” another agreed, female this time. “Ruthless. Everything has to be exactly his way or heads roll.”
“Easy for him to boss people around when he’s never had to worry about anything. His head is so far in the clouds he has no idea what it’s like to be a real person.”
“He pays us well. Don’t get me wrong. But it doesn’t matter how much you make when your boss treats you like garbage.”
“Remember when he made Sarah cry last month? Over flowers being the wrong shade of white?”
“Or when he fired Zach for being ten minutes late because of his kid’s doctor appointment?”
“He’s a nightmare. I don’t care how hot he is or how much money he has. I wouldn’t wish him on my worst enemy.”
A strange feeling rolled through me. I should leave. I should go to my room and pretend I hadn’t heard any of this.
But I couldn’t move.
“And now he’s got that poor girl roped into marrying him,” the first voice continued. “Did you see her face at dinner? She looked terrified.”
“She must really love him to put up with—”
I shifted my weight and accidentally fell into the wall.
The voices stopped abruptly.
Then the door swung open, and I found myself face to face with three crew members, two men and a woman, all staring at me with expressions of pure horror.
“Miss Bellrose,” one of them stammered. “We didn’t—we weren’t—”
They thought I was going to run to Colt. Tell him what they’d said. Get them fired.
Because that’s what his fiancée would do, right? What any woman in love with him would do?
Protect him. Defend him. Make sure anyone who spoke against him paid the price.
I looked at their frightened faces and couldn’t do it. “I didn’t hear anything,” I said quietly. “And even if I had, I wouldn’t say a word.”
They stared at me, uncertain whether to believe me.
“I mean it,” I continued. “Whatever you said—whatever you think of him—it stays between us. Okay?”
The woman nodded slowly. “Thank you.”
I offered a small smile and went to my stateroom, closing the door behind me.
In the silence of my room, I leaned against the door and let out a long breath.
Colt’s own crew hated him. Feared him.
And Frankie wanted me not to hurt him.
As if I could hurt someone who’d already proven he had no heart to damage.
I changed into the silk pajamas that had been in the room along with a full wardrobe. I climbed under the covers and closed my eyes.
Take his money. Break his heart. Get even.