Chapter 13
COLT
The yacht docked at Shelter Island just after ten in the morning. The sun was out but it was cold as shit. I was already in a foul mood. Everything annoyed me, including the frigid temperatures.
Obviously, that was to be expected given the time of year, but it still pissed me off. It was going to be one of those days.
I’d been awake since four a.m., courtesy of the dream that had hit me like a sock full of nickels. This time it had been more vivid, more real. If I could take a pill to make them stop, I would do it in a heartbeat.
I’d given up on sleep around five and spent the rest of the early morning hours working from my stateroom, trying to distract myself with quarterly projections and design approvals. It hadn’t worked. The images still clung to the edges of my mind, making everything feel sharp and jagged.
Now, as we prepared to disembark, I could feel the exhaustion dragging at me, making my patience thinner than usual.
“Why can’t we just stay on the yacht?” Hallie asked. She looked fresh and rested in dark jeans and a cream sweater, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. “It’s incredible. We have everything we need right here. Frankie is staying on the yacht.”
“Because that’s not the point,” I said, my tone expressing every ounce of my irritation. “The point of this engagement is to be visible. To be seen. We need to show our faces at the hotel, have dinner at their restaurant, be photographed by guests who’ll post about it on social media.”
“So it’s all performance.”
“It’s all always been performance,” I shot back. “Did you think we were actually going on a romantic getaway?”
Her expression shuttered, and I immediately regretted my words. But I was too tired and too on edge to take them back.
We made our way off the yacht in tense silence. Frankie shot me a concerned look as she passed, clearly picking up on the atmosphere, but she didn’t say anything.
The car ride to the hotel was worse. Hallie had stopped talking to me entirely, instead pressing her face to the window and watching the scenery roll past. And I had to admit, even through my exhaustion and irritation, it was beautiful.
Snow fell in fat, lazy flakes, covering everything in a blanket of white. The trees were frosted like mini-wheats. The roads wound through quaint neighborhoods and past sprawling estates, everything picture-perfect and serene.
I couldn’t remember the last time I had been out here. It was probably with a woman I barely knew. The island provided a good escape and an excuse to stay locked up in a hotel room for a couple of days.
Hallie looked years younger, like a kid seeing snow for the first time. There was an expression of awe that made me curious. I found myself watching her instead of the scenery. The way her breath fogged the window. The slight smile playing at her lips. The wonder in her eyes.
She looked so unguarded like this.
It reminded me that despite everything, she was still a real person with real feelings. Not just a prop in my redemption tour.
The hotel came into view, and even I had to appreciate its elegance.
It wasn’t one I had stayed at before. The building itself was stunning, a historic estate that had been converted into a luxury resort.
The grounds looked immaculate beneath the snow, with heated pools steaming in the cold air, hot tubs tucked into private alcoves, and what looked like a world-class spa attached to the main building.
“Wow,” Hallie breathed, her nose still pressed to the window.
“Nothing but the best,” I said, trying to inject some warmth back into my voice.
She didn’t respond.
We pulled up to the entrance, and a valet immediately appeared to help with our luggage. I offered Hallie my arm as we walked in. Partly for show and partly because the stone steps were slippery with snow and I didn’t want her to fall. She took it reluctantly.
The lobby was another testament to the cost of the rooms in the place. It was a cross between cozy and opulence. A massive fireplace crackled with real wood. Elegant without being ostentatious. Where old money came to relax while pretending to be somewhere quaint and rustic.
I approached the reception desk with Hallie at my side, already pulling out my ID and credit card.
“Reservation for Jesson,” I said. “Two suites.”
The clerk, a young man who couldn’t have been more than twenty-five, typed something into his computer. Then his expression faltered.
“Ah, Mr. Jesson. Yes. I have your reservation here, but I’m afraid there’s been a situation.”
My jaw tightened. “There better not be.”
“We had a storm come through last night. Some guests were displaced from another property, and we had to accommodate them. Unfortunately, that meant we had to reassign one of your suites.” He looked genuinely apologetic. “We tried to reach you this morning, but—”
“I was sailing,” I cut him off. “No cell service.”
That was a lie. I had cell service. I’d just been screening calls because I didn’t want to deal with anyone while I was trying to keep my head together after the nightmare.
This was what I got for that.
“We still have one suite available for you,” the clerk continued quickly. “Our presidential suite. It’s our finest accommodation, with ocean views, a private balcony with a jacuzzi, separate dining area—”
“I reserved two suites for a reason,” I said, my voice dangerously quiet. “I need two rooms.”
“I understand, sir, but with the storm and the displaced guests—”
“I don’t care about the storm or the other guests.” I leaned forward, letting every ounce of intimidation I possessed seep into my posture. “I’m Colt Jesson. Two rooms.” I held up two fingers to make sure he understood the difference between one and two.
The clerk paled. “Sir, I’m afraid we’re completely booked.”
“Then unbook someone.”
“Colt.” Hallie’s hand landed on my arm. Her tone was kind, the one she used when talking to everyone else except me. “It’s fine.”
I turned to look at her, ready to argue, but she was smiling at the clerk with genuine warmth.
“One suite is perfectly fine,” she said. “Our staff can sleep in the boat. We can make it work.”
The clerk looked relieved. “The presidential suite really is spectacular, Miss—”
“Bellrose,” Hallie supplied. “And I’m sure it is. We’ll take it.”
I wanted to argue. Wanted to demand they fix this, find another room, do whatever it took to give me the space I’d planned for. But Hallie was already accepting the key cards, still smiling at the poor clerk like he hadn’t just ruined my carefully laid plans.
The presidential suite was, admittedly, spectacular.
A wall of windows overlooked the ocean, the view currently obscured by gently falling snow.
The living area was spacious and elegantly furnished, with plush couches, a fireplace, and a dining table that could seat eight.
Through an open doorway, I could see the bedroom with its enormous bed and more ocean views.
And outside on the balcony, steam rose from what was clearly a heated jacuzzi, like a middle finger to Mother Nature’s icy fury.
Hallie moved through the space like she was exploring a space shit, her eyes wide with wonder. She touched the soft throw blankets, ran her fingers along the back of the velvet couch, peered out at the snowy landscape with obvious delight.
The bellhop followed us in with our bags, explaining the various amenities. Room service menu. Restaurant reservations. Spa appointments. Every word made Hallie’s eyes grow wider.
“This is all just incredible,” she said. Before the valet could leave, Hallie turned to me with that same sweet smile she’d given the clerk. “Give him a generous tip, my love. For his efforts.”
I clenched my jaw. She was doing this on purpose—spending my money, bossing me around, all while maintaining the image of the perfect, considerate fiancée.
It was infuriating. It was also kind of hot.
I pulled out my wallet and handed the bellhop several bills, which was more than generous because I wasn’t about to let Hallie accuse me of being cheap. He thanked us profusely and left, closing the door behind him. The lock clicked automatically.
Hallie immediately went back to exploring, bending down to examine the selection of wine in the mini bar. Her long dark hair fell over her shoulder, and her jeans stretched across her ass in a way that made my mouth go dry.
I couldn’t help but check out her other assets while I was at it.
I wasn’t sure what I would want to grab first. Probably boobs.
I already managed to cop a feel of her ass.
But damn I could just imagine how hot that perfect ass would look in a tiny thong.
My hands would have more than enough to grab onto.
She straightened suddenly and caught me staring.
“Really?” she said, one eyebrow raised.
I moved to the couch and sat down, deliberately relaxed, clasping my hands behind my head. “If you’re entitled to tip with my money, I’m entitled to enjoy the view I paid for.”
“You’re a dick.”
“And you’re a fine ass fiancée,” I countered, unable to stop the grin spreading across my face.
She glared at me, but I caught the flush creeping up her neck. Good. At least I wasn’t the only one affected by this forced proximity.
“I’m going to freshen up,” I said, standing. “We have dinner reservations at seven. One of the hotel restaurants. Frankie is sending a dress up.”
“I don’t need Frankie to send me a dress,” Hallie protested. “I packed my own clothes. And honestly, room service sounds perfect. Do we really need to go out?”
“Yes,” I said firmly. “We need to be where the people are. Where we can be seen. That’s the entire point of this trip, remember?”
“The entire point,” she repeated flatly. “Right. The performance.”
“Exactly.” I grabbed my bag and headed toward the bathroom. “So get ready to perform, sugar. We’ve got a long weekend ahead of us.”
I closed the bathroom door before she could respond, leaning against it for a moment and closing my eyes.
One room. Three days. With a woman who infuriated me and attracted me in equal measure.
This was either going to be the longest weekend of my life.
Or the most interesting.
Possibly both.
I turned on the shower and tried not to think about the fact that Hallie would be sleeping in the same room as me tonight. That I’d be able to hear her breathing, smell her perfume, watch her move around in whatever she wore to bed.
This was fine. I was a grown man. I could handle sharing a suite with my fake fiancée without losing my mind.