Chapter 19
COLT
“What the hell is this?”
I slammed the design mockup down on the conference table, making everyone in the room flinch. The creative team exchanged nervous glances, but no one spoke.
“These are supposed to be our Valentine’s Day flagship designs,” I continued, my voice dangerously quiet. “The rings that will define Valenteen for the next year. And this is the dog shit you’re giving me?”
“Mr. Jesson,” Carson, the lead designer, ventured carefully. “These are the same designs you approved three months ago. We’ve been working from your notes.”
“Then someone should have had the balls to tell me my ideas were dog shit too.” I picked up the mockup again, studying the solitaire design that suddenly looked all wrong to me. Too simple. Too boring. Too lonely. “This doesn’t work. None of it works.”
“Sir, we’re two weeks from production.”
“We’re two weeks from bankruptcy if we try selling this garbage.” I shook my head. “Scrap it. Start over.”
The room erupted in barely contained panic. Whispers about timelines and budgets and vendor contracts. I ignored all of it, flipping through the rest of the designs with growing frustration.
They were fine. Some were good, even. Classic Valenteen quality. So why did looking at them make me want to put my fist through a wall?
“Everyone out,” I said abruptly. “Except Carson. We need to talk.”
The team filed out quickly, relief evident on their faces. They were happy to get as far from me and my wrath as possible. Carson remained, standing stiffly by his chair.
“Sir, I don’t understand,” he said once we were alone. “You loved these designs in October. You said they were exactly the direction you wanted to take the spring collection. What changed?”
“Everything,” I muttered, then caught myself. “Nothing. They’re just not right. We can do better.”
“With two weeks until production?” Carson’s voice cracked slightly. “Mr. Jesson, we can’t.”
“Figure it out,” I snapped. “That’s what I pay you for.”
I left the conference room before he could respond, heading for my office. But I didn’t make it three steps before Frankie intercepted me.
“My office,” she said. “Not a request. Now.”
I considered arguing, but the look on her face told me that would be a mistake. I followed her into her office, which was smaller than mine but just as elegantly appointed. She closed the door behind us.
“What the hell is going on with you?” she demanded.
“I’m running a company.”
“You’re acting like a prick.” She crossed her arms. “Those designs were perfect, and you know it. You approved them months ago. Raved about them, actually. And now you want to scrap everything two weeks before production?”
“I changed my mind.”
“Bullshit.” She moved closer, her eyes searching my face. “This is about Hallie.”
My stomach dropped. “It’s not.”
“Don’t lie to me, Colt. I saw the way you looked at her on the yacht.” Her voice softened slightly. “Something happened that weekend, didn’t it? Both of you came back different. Hallie was quiet and distant. And you’ve been a nightmare ever since.”
“It’s just the stress of the fake wedding,” I said, but even I could hear how weak it sounded. “All the planning, the appearances, making sure everything looks legitimate.”
“You’re catching feelings for her.”
The words hung in the air between us.
“No,” I said automatically. “I’m not. She’s a contractor. An employee. This is business.”
“Colt.” Frankie’s voice was gentle now, which somehow made it worse. “I’m worried about you. I know we need to clean up your image, and this engagement seemed like the perfect solution. But at what cost? If you’re actually falling for her, it’ll end badly.”
“I’m not falling for her,” I said, my voice harsh.
“Then why are you so worked up? Why are you destroying perfectly good designs and snapping at everyone who looks at you sideways?” She paused. “Where is Hallie, by the way? I thought you two had wedding planning today.”
“She left.”
“What? Why?”
“She said she needed space. Went to the Hamptons. Won’t be back until the day after tomorrow.” I could hear the bitterness in my own voice. “Must be nice to just run away when things get tough.”
Frankie stared at me. “And you let her go? Just like that?”
“What was I supposed to do? Chain her to the wedding planner’s chair?” I moved to the window, staring out at the Manhattan skyline. “She wants space, she gets space. I don’t care.”
“You clearly do care.”
“I don’t—” I stopped, pressing my forehead against the cool glass. “Fuck, Frankie. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
I heard her move closer, felt her hand on my shoulder.
“When’s the last time you slept?” she asked quietly.
“I sleep.”
“When’s the last time you slept well, then?”
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. Because the truth was I hadn’t slept well in weeks. Not since the dreams had come back. Not since Hallie had walked into my life and turned everything upside down.
“It’s the nightmares.” Frankie’s voice was barely a whisper.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. There was no point in denying it. We had already talked about this.
“Oh, Colt.” She pulled me into a hug. I let her, because she was my little sister and she was one of the only people on earth who was allowed to see me like this. “Why didn’t you tell me it had gotten this bad?”
“What’s there to tell? They come and go. It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine.” She pulled back to look at me. “Is it because of the engagement? Because you’re looking down the barrel of marriage again, even if it’s fake?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Maybe.”
“Does Hallie know?”
The memory of that night in Shelter Island flooded back.
“No.”
Frankie was quiet for a long moment. “You know Hallie isn’t Lauren, right? She’s a completely different person. Different life, different circumstances.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?” She searched my face.
“I don’t have time for this,” I said, but the words lacked conviction. “I have a company to run. A wedding to plan. A reputation to salvage. And Hallie? Hallie is in this for the money. That’s what she wants from me. Not whatever you think is happening.”
“Is it? Just about the money?” Frankie tilted her head. “Because I’ve seen the way she looks at you too, you know. And it’s not the look of someone who’s just in it for a paycheck.”
“You’re wrong.”
“Am I?”
“She hates me,” I said flatly. “She told me as much.”
“People are complicated. They can hate you and care about you at the same time.” Frankie’s expression softened. “You know that better than anyone.”
I did know that. God, did I know that.
I hated my father sometimes. But I had also loved him more than almost anyone. Had grieved his death so hard I could barely function for months after he died.
Love and hate weren’t opposites. They were sisters.
“I’m exhausted,” I admitted, sinking into one of Frankie’s chairs. “The timing of Hallie’s little runaway to the Hamptons right when I need her most couldn’t have been worse timing.”
“Need,” Frankie repeated, emphasizing the word. “Listen to yourself.”
“Fine. Right when I need her for appearances. For the schedule.”
“For emotional support? For someone to talk to?”
“Stop.” I held up a hand. “Just stop.”
She slowly shook her head. “I’m worried about you, big brother. You’re on dangerous ground here. You can deny it all you want, but I know you better than anyone. And I know Hallie is under your skin.”
“She’s not.”
“She is. And that scares the shit out of you, because the last time you let someone under your skin, you lost her. Brutally. Traumatically. In a way that would scar anyone.”
I closed my eyes, not wanting to see the pity in Frankie’s face. Not wanting to acknowledge that she was right.
“Lauren’s been gone for over a decade,” Frankie continued gently. “And you’ve been running from anyone who might make you feel anything close to what you felt for her. But, Colt, you can’t run forever.”
“Watch me.”
“I have watched you. And all it’s done is make you miserable. Lonely. Empty.”
“I’m fine.”
She shook her head. “You’re not fine. You’re a mess.”
“I don’t know what you want me to do,” I said quietly.
“I want you to be honest. With yourself, if not with me. Are you falling for Hallie?”
“No.”
Was I?
Frankie tilted her head to the side just a tiny bit. But it was her tell. She didn’t believe me.
“I don’t know,” I finally admitted.
Frankie nodded. “Okay. That’s honest, at least. You need to keep things professional, though. Hallie is a nice girl. I’ll give you that. But she’s in this for the money. And you’re in this to clean up your reputation. That’s the deal. Everyone wins, right?”
“Right,” I said automatically.
“So don’t make it more complicated than it needs to be. Don’t catch feelings for someone who’s going to walk away in July with her payout and never look back.”
“I know.”
But even as I said it, I wasn’t convinced. Because if Hallie was really just in it for the money, why had she looked so hurt when I’d pushed her away on Shelter Island? Why had she tried to comfort me during my nightmare instead of just rolling over and going back to sleep?
None of it made sense.
“I’m sorry,” I said suddenly, looking at Frankie. “For being an ass today. For the designs, for taking my shit out on everyone. You’re right. I approved those designs months ago and they’re good. I’ll tell Carson to move forward.”
Frankie smiled, relief flooding her features. “Thank you. That’s all I ask.”
“And thank you. For putting up with me. For caring even when I’m being impossible.”
“That’s what little sisters do.” She pulled me into another hug. “I love you, you stubborn idiot. And I just want you to be happy.”
“I know.”
“So be careful. Please. Guard your heart a little. Because I don’t think I can watch you break again.”
I held my sister tight, remembering all the times she’d been there for me. After Lauren died, when I could barely get out of bed. After our mother passed, when grief threatened to swallow us both. After Dad’s death, when I had to step into shoes I wasn’t sure I could fill.
She’d seen me at my worst. My weakest. My most broken.
And she’d loved me through all of it.
“I’ll be careful,” I promised.
We pulled apart, and Frankie wiped at her eyes.
I only allowed myself to have emotions when I was with Frankie and those occasions were few and far between. But I could admit it did feel good to have that tiny little pressure release.
I told myself I could make it through to July. I had to. Falling apart was not an option.
One day, I knew all the running was going to catch up to me. I was probably going to end up in a padded room, but until then, I would keep putting one foot in front of the other and smile for the cameras.