Chapter 24
HALLIE
The champagne had gone straight to my head. Or maybe it was the way Colt had held me on the dance floor. The way he’d looked at me like I was the only person in the room. The way he’d kissed me like he was drowning and I was air.
Either way, I was floating.
We made the rounds after that, Colt introducing me to what felt like every wealthy person in Manhattan. My cheeks hurt from smiling, but I kept it up. This was the job. This was what I’d signed up for.
Except it didn’t feel like a job anymore.
Not after that kiss.
Someone called me Hallie Jesson, saying the double J initials were cool. It took me by surprise. I played it off, but I realized people were going to be calling me Hallie Jesson for the next six months. Well, after Valentine’s Day.
The name felt strange, like trying on someone else’s identity.
“Don’t you think, Hallie?” The hedge fund manager was looking at me expectantly.
I had no idea what he’d asked. “Absolutely,” I said with what I hoped was an intelligent nod.
Colt’s hand tightened on my waist, in amusement, I thought. He knew I hadn’t been listening.
“If you’ll excuse us,” Colt said smoothly. “I’d like to dance with my fiancée again.”
Thank God.
He led me back onto the dance floor, and this time when he pulled me close, I didn’t hesitate. I melted into him, letting my body follow his lead without thinking.
“You’re a terrible liar,” he murmured in my ear.
“What?”
“You had no idea what Gerald was talking about.”
“Was that his name?” I looked up at him. “I thought it was Gary. Or George. One of those G names.”
He laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest into mine. “You’re lucky you’re beautiful. It makes people forgive your complete lack of interest in their boring conversations.”
“I’m not that beautiful,” I said automatically.
His expression shifted, becoming serious. “Yes, you are.”
The champagne made me bold. “Even compared to your usual type? The models and actresses and socialites?”
“Especially compared to them.” His hand slid lower on my back, dangerously close to inappropriate. “They’re beautiful like paintings. Nice to look at but ultimately flat. Two-dimensional.”
“And me?”
“You’re beautiful like…” He paused, seeming to search for the right words. “Like architecture. Complex. Interesting from every angle. The kind of beauty that reveals more the longer you look.”
My breath caught. “That’s the champagne talking.”
“I don’t get drunk, Hallie. That’s just the truth.”
We swayed together. I felt drunk on something that had nothing to do with alcohol. The way he was looking at me. The way his body moved against mine. The memory of that kiss still tingling on my lips.
This was dangerous. So dangerous.
But I didn’t want to stop.
The song ended, and Colt’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out with a frown.
“I need to take this,” he said apologetically. “Work emergency. Will you be okay?”
“Yes.” I smiled. “I’m going to visit the ladies’ room.”
I pushed through the ornate doors of the restroom, grateful for a moment to collect myself. The bathroom was all marble and gold fixtures, with a sitting area complete with plush chairs and a vanity filled with various lotions, warm towels, and breath mints.
I checked my reflection in the mirror. My lipstick was definitely smudged from that kiss. My cheeks were flushed. My eyes were bright with excitement.
I looked like a woman who was falling.
Stop it, I told myself firmly, pulling out my lipstick to do repairs. This is fake. It’s all fake. Don’t forget that.
The door opened behind me, and two women walked in. They were exactly the type I’d come to recognize at these events—early twenties, impossibly thin, wearing dresses with designer labels. Their hair was perfect, their makeup flawless, their jewelry understated but clearly expensive.
They were chatting to each other, but the conversation stopped when they saw me.
“Oh my god,” one of them said, her eyes widening. “You’re her.”
I turned from the mirror. “I’m sorry?”
“You’re with Colt Jesson,” the other one said, moving closer. “We saw you dancing. That kiss was incredible.” She fanned herself dramatically.
“Thank you,” I said carefully.
“I’m Madison,” the first one said. “And this is Charlotte. We’re dying to know. How did you do it?”
“Oh, I just closed my eyes and puckered my lips.” I shrugged. “To be honest, Colt did most of the work.”
“No, how did you land him?” Madison leaned against the counter, her expression curious rather than hostile.
“Colt Jesson has been Manhattan’s most eligible bachelor for years.
Every woman at these events has tried to catch his attention for more than a night.
And then you just appear out of nowhere and he’s completely smitten. ”
I should have deflected. Should have given some generic answer about fate or timing or chemistry. But the champagne had loosened my tongue, and something about the genuinely curious look in their eyes made me want to impress them.
“It was actually very romantic,” I heard myself saying. “We met in Central Park.”
“Central Park?” Charlotte’s eyes lit up. “Tell us everything.”
I capped my lipstick and dropped it in my tiny clutch, the story forming in my mind. “I was walking through the park one afternoon in November. It was one of those beautiful fall days, you know? The leaves were bright orange, the air was crisp, and I was just enjoying being outside.”
They nodded eagerly.
“And then out of nowhere, it started to rain. Not a drizzle. A complete downpour. I didn’t have an umbrella, and I was wearing this white blouse that was getting completely soaked.”
“Oh no,” Madison breathed.
“I started running for shelter, but then I heard this voice behind me say, ‘You look like you could use some help.’ And there was Colt, holding this huge umbrella over my head.”
“That’s so romantic,” Charlotte sighed.
I was warming to my story now, embellishing as I went. “He walked me all the way to the nearest café, holding the umbrella the whole time. By the time we got there, his shoulder was completely soaked because he’d been angling the umbrella to keep me dry.”
“What a gentleman,” Madison said.
“We went inside and he bought me coffee. We ended up talking for hours. He was so different from what I expected—funny and self-deprecating and genuinely interested in what I had to say. Not at all like the playboy the tabloids make him out to be.”
“And then what?” Charlotte was hanging on every word.
“He asked for my number. Said he wanted to see me again. I honestly thought that I’d never hear from him.” I smiled at the memory I was creating. “But he called the next day. And the day after that. And before I knew it, we were inseparable.”
“That’s like a dream come true,” Madison said wistfully.
“It kind of felt like that,” I admitted. And weirdly, as I said it, part of me wished it were true. Wished that Colt and I had met that way—accidentally, romantically, with rain and coffee and hours of conversation.
Instead of a business transaction designed to save his reputation.
“You’re so lucky,” Charlotte said. “He seems completely in love with you. The way he looks at you?” She pressed a hand to her heart. “I want that.”
“Everyone wants that,” Madison agreed. “A man who looks at you like you’re the only woman in the world.”
Guilt twisted in my stomach. These women believed what I was selling. Believed in the fairy tale I’d just spun for them.
And the worst part? I was starting to believe it too.
“Well, I should get back,” I said. “Colt’s probably looking for me.”
“Of course,” Madison said. “It was so nice meeting you. And congratulations on the engagement. You two are perfect together.”
“Thank you.” I escaped back into the hallway, my heart pounding. The story I’d told them was completely fabricated. But the feelings behind it—the wish that it could be real—those were genuine.
I was in trouble. Somewhere along the way, I’d stopped pretending to care about Colt Jesson.
And started actually caring.
I found him near the entrance, his phone still pressed to his ear. When he saw me, I saw a flash of the predator that practically devoured me on the dance floor.
“I have to go,” he said into the phone. “We’ll handle it Monday.” He hung up and reached for my hand. “Ready to get out of here?”
“God, yes.”
These people with their designer clothes and expensive jewelry and casual conversations about summering in Switzerland—they treated me like I belonged. Like I was one of them. Like I was somebody.
It was intoxicating.
And terrifying.
I needed to get out of there before I started believing my own bullshit.
When this was over, when the contract ended in July, he would be the one feeling what I’d felt that night on the beach. The humiliation. The heartbreak. The devastating realization that it had all been a lie.
That’s what I wanted. That’s what this was all about.
Take his money. Break his heart. Get even.
But as I sat in the back of his limo, champagne bubbles still fizzing in my bloodstream, the mantra felt hollow. Because that kiss hadn’t been for show.
And the way he was looking at me right now, in the dim light of the car, definitely wasn’t fake.
“Come back to my place,” he said.
He reached for my hand, brushing his thumb across the back of my knuckles. I kept replaying that damn kiss. It had been so good. A tease. Like the tiniest nibble of the best chocolate in the whole world.
I should say no. Should go home to my apartment, to my roommates, to the safety of my own space where I could think clearly.
But I didn’t want to think clearly.
I wanted to feel.
I wanted to know what could have been. Just one night.
“Okay,” I whispered.
His eyes darkened, and then his mouth was on mine again.
This kiss was different from the one on the dance floor.
That had been romantic, sweet, almost tender.
This was hungry. Desperate. His hands tangled in my hair, tilting my head back so he could deepen the kiss.
I melted into him. If there had been any kind of doubt left in my mind, it vanished the second his lips touched mine.
That wasn’t true. The doubt was never really there. After that kiss, I knew I would jump at the chance to be with him if he offered.
God, he lit a bonfire in my core I couldn’t put out.
His tongue swept into my mouth, and I made a sound I’d never made before. It was all needy and wanting and completely unguarded. He groaned in response, one hand sliding down to grip my hip, pulling me closer.
I was vaguely aware that we were still in the limo. That his driver was probably very aware of what was happening in the back seat. But I couldn’t bring myself to care.
All I could think about was the way Colt tasted. The way his hands felt on my body. There was a confidence about him that I could feel in the way he dragged me even closer. There was possession in his hold. But it was the way he kissed me like he’d been starving for it that really had me lost.
The car stopped, and Colt pulled back just enough to murmur against my lips, “We’re here.”
My brain felt fuzzy. “Here?”
“My place.” He pressed another kiss to my mouth. “Come upstairs with me.”
It wasn’t a question, but I nodded anyway.