Chapter 4
Sutton
I stride to my truck, equal parts amused at what I just witnessed and fucking turned on. My jeans are tight, and my heart races. She was phenomenal. Didn’t miss a beat, completely in control, confident, and it was hard to keep my eyes off her. More so than usual.
Of course I have my brother in my corner, and Rochelle does a great job of turning journalists away, but I’ve never been in the diner to see Nikki do it.
The fact that she did it so convincingly, when I was merely a few feet away, makes me want to scoop her up and take her home.
Living in Hollywood, it’s full of phony people, all trying to suck the life out of you to further their own agenda.
Over time, that’s become clearer and it’s made me a little wary.
But Nikki had my back, asking for nothing in return.
Her morals and her authenticity are refreshing as hell.
“Wait!” Her voice stops me mid-stride, and I turn quickly, seeing her run after me.
Hair flowing in the breeze, her cheeks are a little flushed, and I swallow roughly.
I see beautiful women in LA and on my travels all the time.
Hell, I spend weekends in Cabo with models and actresses every chance I get.
But never has one taken my breath away like Nikki does.
“This must’ve fallen from your pocket or something.” She pushes her hand out, passing back the hundred I left for her on the table.
“It didn’t. It's your tip.” I pocket my hands so she can’t shove the bill back into them.
Looking at the cash and then back at me, she questions, “Tip?”
“Yeah. The tip.” I probably sound arrogant. I always tip well, but I’ve never left Nikki that much before.
“But it’s a hundred dollars!” Like she’s both confused and shocked, her face crumples.
“I know.” Sure, it’s a lot for just a cup of coffee, but she deserves it.
“But it's too much.” Her jaw is tight, so it seems she’s not happy about it.
Dare I say, this little pocket rocket has pride that runs deep.
Anyone else would take the money and keep moving, for fear it was a mistake and not wanting to give it up.
Yet another thing that’s remarkable about this woman.
“No, it’s not. This town is keeping me hidden; you’re keeping me hidden. You just put on a hell of a performance that’s over and above what Rochelle pays you to do. So, it’s fair compensation. Keep it.”
“I can’t keep it!” She’s incredulous, and I really want to grin.
“Why not?”
“It’s a hundred dollars!” she yells, even though we’re right near each other.
I like being this close to her. From here, I can smell her fresh floral scent, the one that I now dream about.
There’s something about her energy that I can’t get enough of.
It gives me renewed life. Like I’m discovering something new.
I nod in understanding. “I know, Nikki.”
Her shoulders lower in what I think is defeat. She needs it, and we both know it. I lean toward her, my head lowering to her ear.
“Indulge me… just this once.” My voice vibrates across her skin, and it takes all my strength to back away, to not take a deep breath of her scent.
Her eyes are wide as she looks up at me, her mouth open, her lips plump.
Damn, she’s beautiful. The things I want to do to that mouth are now running through my mind rapidly, like a movie.
But, not wanting to push it any more, I force my feet to move and jump in the truck.
I’m using Annabelle’s truck today, given the need to constantly change the vehicles I drive to ensure anonymity.
Not able to keep my eyes off her for any longer, I start it up and look at Nikki from the window.
She’s standing in the same spot, watching me.
I give her a nod, and I see her take a deep breath before she pockets the cash and walks inside, my eyes not leaving her until the door closes behind her frame.
After Rochelle mentioned her situation the other day, the grin is fast to my face, now knowing she has some extra money this week.
A hundred dollars is nothing to me. My bank balance is high, my needs low, and my investments are strong. But if I don’t do some type of work soon, I’m going to be stalking the poor girl more than I already am. With that thought in my mind, I hit the road and turn left instead of right.
Distillery Drive is five minutes away, and I have tunnel vision all the way there.
Bobby’s been calling me about all kinds of projects, and I don’t want to do any of them.
They have large dollars attached, but they aren’t really me.
Commercials that air in Asia, movies that lean on love stories rather than action.
All great jobs, but none that I want. None that fit me or my brand that I’ve spent over a decade building.
Bobby’s thinking of his own pocket. Money changes people, and Sawyer and I have been lucky to have a humble upbringing so we know the importance of keeping grounded.
Bobby? He combusts just at the smell of a wad.
I pull into the Whiteman’s Whiskey Distillery parking lot and stride inside, eager to get this dream of mine happening.
“Can I help you?” the receptionist at the distillery office asks. I quickly look at her name badge.
“Hi, Stephanie. Is Connor or Tanner available?”
Her cheeks tint in recognition and she starts to stammer. It’s common. I don’t get frustrated. People handle fame differently, but I’m just a normal person.
“Sutton?” I turn at the sound of my name, seeing Tanner walking down the hall toward me.
“Tanner.” Reaching out, I shake his hand. We’ve only just started to get to know each other, but he and my brother are close.
“Come down. Connor’s in his office.” I follow Tanner, looking around as I do.
They have a great business here. The walls are lined with photos and information about their whiskey, their family history, and the town.
A lot of effort has gone into the storytelling; it’s captivating and exactly what I want.
Storytelling is why I got into the business I did.
I used to sit at home and watch old movies.
It’s still a passion of mine when I have the time.
“Connor.” Tanner barks his son's name as we walk into his office, and Connor looks at me with a wide grin.
“Silvers. Good to see you,” he says, walking over to me and shaking my hand.
“Thought I’d drop by.”
“Aren’t you trying to lay low?” Tanner questions as we all take a seat in the small lounge.
“Well, if I’m going to be the face of your latest release, I better get my first taste of it.” Confident? Absolutely. But when I want something, I go after it. It’s how I made my entire career.
“Why should you be the face of our whiskey?”
This is an idea I’ve toyed with for years.
Whenever we’ve been in the same room, I’ve always joked about being the face of their brand.
Not only because I love their whiskey, but because I love what they represent.
Family. Connection. Heritage. Now having been here in Whispers for a while, I can understand it even more.
Up until now, Tanner and Connor have both had large profiles, but I know that’s not what they love to do.
Me, my face is already everywhere, so what’s one more place?
“Because I’m in hiding. I’m elusive. I’m a Shadow Gentleman.” They look at me in slight awe.
“What’s a shadow gentleman?” Connor asks as Tanner looks on, intrigued, and I feel like I’m coming alive inside as I think about it.
“A Shadow Gentleman is a man of undeniable refinement and intrigue. He carries an air of mystery, perhaps due to a hidden past, concealed identity, or the deliberate choice to remain in the background while still influencing the world around him. He commands attention without seeking it. He’s polished, perceptive, and quietly powerful.
Whether he's evading detection, orchestrating events from the shadows, or simply existing in a space between elegance and secrecy, he remains someone people notice, but rarely truly know.”
Connor smiles. “Have you ever worked in marketing?”
“Never.” My answer’s quick as I feel the bud of possibility blooming.
“We have a new batch. It’s a bit different.” I can tell Tanner’s considering this.
“How so?” I ask.
“I charred the barrels before I aged it. Then coated them with our honey. Giving it a smokey, caramelized edge to it that we’ve never had before.”
Excitement buzzes through me as I nod, loving the sound of that.
“Shadow Gentleman. A whiskey with quiet power and undeniable allure.”
They both look at me.
“Shit, that’s good.” Connor throws his pen down on his desk like it’s already a done deal.
“Damn, I like it.” Tanner rubs his chin in thought.
“You do know if we position this right, it’s going to go crazy.” Connor looks at me seriously.
“I know.” I can already see it. Me staying here, working with them in secret. Filming commercials around Whispers, shoots for magazines, social media. Then me coming out as being in Whispers when it first launches, it’s going to be a media frenzy.
“I can see it,” Tanner adds, relaxing back in his seat.
“It’ll work well with our global expansion proposals with Grant Holdings.”
My eyebrows rise at Connor’s statement. I knew they were expanding, but Grant Holdings is big. I’ve met the Grant brothers a few times. They’ve been at the same restaurants I frequent, their money giving them access to a global field of people like no other.
“I know Tyler,” I tell them, and Connor looks at me sharply.
“Of course you do.” He shakes his head, grinning. Seemingly, his plans are all coming together.
“We could film the commercials here on-site and in town. A photoshoot in your barrel rooms, aging rooms.” I haven’t auditioned or pitched myself in a long time. It feels refreshing, like I’m taking charge of my career all by myself without Bobby and his bias. I’ve missed that control.
“Sounds like you’re planning to stick around in Whispers a bit longer? Sawyer told me you purchased a block of land and are working with Griffin on a place.” Tanner smiles, clearly proud to add me to the list of residents in his town.
I shrug. “Whispers is nice. Private. Secure. Quiet. A good place for someone like me to come and hide once in a while. I like it here. The whiskey is good too.”
Connor chuckles, lifting an eyebrow. “We’ve never partnered with a celebrity, never wanted celebrity endorsement.”
“I was thinking I might fall into the friend category…”
Tanner smirks, one that his son quickly matches. “I think we have a deal, Sutton. Shall we toast?”
Jumping up from his seat, Connor walks straight to the small bar in his office and pours three glasses. And just like that, a new marketing campaign is born, and I have a job. One I pitched and booked myself. Sawyer can do the negotiation and paperwork. I’ll keep Bobby none the wiser.