CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
COLT
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Where the fuck is everyone?
Mason and Zander replied saying they’re unavailable because they’re, and I quote, “on an undercover mission”.
What does that even mean?
I toss back the rest of my Macallen and gaze out at the patrons in the club tonight. There are a lot of regulars, a few senators, at least two A-class actors, and a major tech executive most people would recognize.
I lift my ankle onto my knee and wink at Kathy as she passes by.
“Colt, haven’t seen you around much this week.”
Shit, I wasn’t trying to get her attention. I’m quietly simmering in my frustration and don’t think I could get an erection if I wanted.
Nor do I want anyone’s mouth on me except Riley.
If I’m not home when you get here, don’t wait up.
Sassy wench.
Whatever. She’s a grown woman who lives alone; I’m sure Riley can take care of herself.
She also has the code to get in and out of my building. As long as she doesn’t bring a club full of people home, she can do what she likes.
Oh yeah, and what if it’s one person she brings home? A guy. To fuck.
I clear my throat and drop my leg, leaning forward, almost crushing the glass between my hands.
The fuck she will!
Where the hell has she gone? I saw on my security app that she’d punched in the code to leave. And not returned.
It’s late.
Very late.
“I was traveling.” I shoot back the last of the Macallan in my glass, and thankfully Kathy gets the message and leaves.
I’m left with my thoughts.
What the hell is wrong with Riley? Something upset her and instead of talking to me, she runs away.
This is not a relationship.
Fuck that. We are in a relationship. For a week.
I’ve gone over and over it in my head seven thousand times and...fine, I’m not okay with this at all.
I stand up.
Then sit down.
“Okay, boss?” One of my security team steps closer.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I wave him away.
After a moment, studying me, he nods and returns to his spot by the wall. He was just doing his job. While I don’t have personal security, unless it’s necessary—which it will be when The Final Rose goes live—when I’m in the club, a couple of them are tasked with shadowing me from a distance.
A new thing we put in place after a twenty-three-year-old trust fund baby/psycho decided she wanted to be my wife. One night she went a little crazy. Physically.
Yes, I could’ve physically stopped her myself, but that’s not a good look for the owner of a bar, nor do I want to legal drama that went with it.
Now the guards ensure things are tidy legally.
Connor Barrett is a connection of mine, so his boys do my security. The guy is a US Marine, so I figure his team is the best.
If I’d thought about it, I could have got one of the Barrett Security members to shadow Riley tonight.
I fucking hate that she’s out in the city alone.
I run my hand through the front of my hair, the arms of my shirt rolled up so my tattoos are visible, but the familiar black leather is gone.
It’s on her arm.
Mine.
I’m not completely clueless, something that was said when Sebastian showed up upset her. Was it because I never told her about the wedding?
It hardly matters.
She will be back in Australia by then.
I replay the entire scene in my head.
Sebastian shows up, starts ranting about the goddamn suits.
“I’m having lunch with a friend.”
I blink, watching a senator slide his hand up a woman’s skirt and palm her ass. Looks like he just snapped her panties off and is now...yup. They’re having fun.
This Obsidian Club, the exclusive part of my business, is invisible to the public. In fact, only those invited into the club know it exists.
Those who can pay the enormous membership fee and sign the hefty legal contracts to ensure it remains a secret. Sure, there are whispers, but that works to add to its appeal.
Another drink appears on a tray before me.
“Thanks, Scott.”
“No problem. Everything okay, boss?” he asks. “Want anything to eat?”
Christ, I must look like a sad sack.
When I first arrived, I circulated around both clubs to see how the teams were. I’ve not been around as much lately, and it’s always a good idea to remain visible. Justin, my second-in-charge, runs the place every day, so I haven’t been concerned, but it feels strange not being here.
“No thanks.” I slide my empty glass onto the table, and he collects it, then as he turns to leave, I add. “Let Justin know I’m heading out.”
“Yes, sir.”
I take a large sip of the fresh whisky and feel the buzz. I’ve had enough to drink that I’m getting increasingly impatient with Riley and her games.
My friend.
Is that what upset her?
Silly girl. Did she want me to introduce her to Sebastian as the girl I’m fucking for the next few days, then won’t see again? The girl who dropped into my DMs and we hooked up? The woman who has the sweetest-tasting pussy in the goddamn world?
I could go on.
Friend saved both of us a lot of questions.
Especially in light of the show being promoted next week. Which, of course, she doesn’t yet know about.
Jesus, I can see that this is all going to implode on me. I thought it would be fine.
We’d have this week, she’d go home. We would both regret that we didn’t have longer and miss one another.
But what else can it be?
It’s an incredible place, but I’d miss the earth. The trees. The flowers.
With those words, she confirmed that what I was thinking was right. This isn’t a place she would want to live. My world is not for her.
Despite the way she’s loved every second and told me she needs a thousand more days in Manhattan to see everything.
Every tourist says that.
I’m not being insecure, I’m being pragmatic. Riley, my beautiful little gardener, doesn’t belong in this big concrete jungle.
I used the word friend, as it was much more respectful than lover. And, fuck it, I do think of her as a friend. We are friends. I lo—
Fuck.
I’ve drunk too much.
She’s got me so wound up that I’m getting overemotional and feeling impatient.
I drop my glass on the table loudly and stand, straightening my pants. Then stride out of the club, noticing the woman nearby is now having a very loud orgasm. Note to self: speak to Justin about upping the music volume.
Right now, I need to find Riley.
Over my dead body is she going to spend the night out on the town and potentially go home with another man. The more vivid that vision becomes in my head, the faster my steps.
Ripping open the car door before my driver notices I’m there, he jumps in and starts the car.
“Where to, sir?”
“Home. I think. Just drive.”
“Sure thing.”
I pull out my phone and call Riley.
I note that it’s almost midnight, and she still hasn’t returned home. Where the hell would she be? I can’t look in every fucking bar in this city. It will be next year by the time I’m done.
The call goes to voicemail.
Stubborn female.
“Pull up outside here,” I spot a bar we had lunch in that she particularly liked. People tend to be habitual creatures, whether we like it or not.
“Gimme five minutes.”
“Got it.”
I climb out and tug my coat on as I slip into the bar. Nudging through the crowd, I seek out her red coils without success.
Hospitality is my industry. I know the staff see everything that goes on. I lean on the bar and catch the server’s attention. Then lift my phone.
“See this girl tonight?”
He takes my phone and studies her photo for a long minute.
Smiling, he nods. “Yeah, she sat at the bar for a few hours. Aussie girl.”
I don’t like this smile.
“Was she okay?” Fuck, what a dumb question.
“Yeah, she got sick of being hit on, so I picked up her tab and got her a cab.”
I bet you fucking did. Creep.
“And her number, I bet.” I tug out a hundred-dollar bill and slide it his way. “Here. To cover it.”
The guy laughs. “Forget it. It was less than twenty dollars. She sat on lemonades and a bowl of wedges.” He pushes the money back to me. “Said she’d had her heart broken. Guess that guy is you, huh?”
Riley’s heartbroken?
No, that’s not okay. Not okay at fucking all.
“Any idea where she went?” I ignore his question, which I could have answered with my fist.
He serves someone beside me who’s getting impatient. I don’t say anything. Again, this is my industry, I know the drill.
When he comes back, he studies me.
“You that guy from the show?”
Fuck.
I better get used to this because the viewer numbers for The Final Rose are much higher than The Venture Vault. Much fucking higher.
“No.” I glance around in case Riley has returned.
“Yeah. Sure. Look man, she seems like a cool chic—”
“I’ll ask you one more time. Where. Did. She. Go?”
After a long minute, he glances at the door, then back at me. “She didn’t say something about going somewhere familiar.”
I blink.
Familiar? Is there an Aussie bar nearby? Nothing is familiar to her in this country.
Aside from me.
“Thanks,” I pull out my phone and weave my way out of the bar, standing on the sidewalk searching for ideas. Glancing up I see my driver holding the door open, waiting.
Fuck, where is she?
We can’t keep driving around, although I might.
The pounding of my heart is getting louder as I imagine her wandering the streets in this strange city.
Heartbroken.
Is that the word she used? Even sober?
Goddamn it.
Then again, look at me losing my mind trying to find her. When am I going to work out that Riley Scott means more to me than I’m admitting?
You shouldn’t have lost her, asshole.
I try ringing again.
Then I message her.
Riley, where are you? Tell me and I’ll come get you.
...
...
Then the dots disappear.
I climb into the back of the car, and stare at the leather seats, shaking my head. Think, think, think.
...somewhere familiar.
I flick through my photos of her over the past few days and my heart stammers at some of the moments we’ve shared. Her kissing my cheek, me laughing—when have I grinned like that before?—and stop at a video I took.
Riley on Bow Bridge.
She’s walking back and forth over it, leaning over the edge, her skirt flickering up in the breeze, the coat doing nothing to keep her warm. Those tan knee-high boots had teased me all day. I’d made her keep them on when I ate her pussy later that afternoon at home.
I remember holding the camera in place when some kids raced past me. My eyes averting from the screen and Riley.
While I wasn’t looking, it turns out she was watching me.
I zoom in.
Jesus Christ.
There it is, clear as day.
Riley is in love with me.