CHAPTER THREE
COLT
––––––––
“You still wearing that thing?” Mason asks as I roll up my sleeves to the top of my forearm. He sends a pointed look to the leather strap around my wrist.
“He’s never taken it off.” Drew sips his coffee.
“Nope. Don’t you have yours?” I ask my friends.
“Mine is in a box along with all our other mementos from that trip with Jack,” Sebastian replies, diving into his meal. “I guess it’s in one of my storage cupboards.”
Zander lifts a shoulder.
I have never taken mine off. It’s my way of honoring our late friend, Jack, and knowing he’s still with us in some way.
My promise to him that I won’t forget him.
“Anyway, are we going to discuss the elephant in the room?” Drew grins.
Here we go.
“Get it off your chests.” I lift the menu, hoping my four best friends sitting around me will do so quickly.
They don’t.
Clearly, they’ve seen the advert for The Venture Vault as I knew they would and are going to enjoy every moment of this.
Zander takes his turn. “That pink blush really brought out your green eye—”
“The fact that you know I have green eyes is just one step away from wanting to suck my cock.” I lower the menu and glower at him.
The entire table bursts into laughter.
The motherfuckers.
“Are you going to run for president in a few years? I want to clear my schedule.” Sebastian grins, loving this.
I drop the menu and wave my hand out in front of me. “Blah, blah, I’m on The Venture Vault. I’m a star now. Whatever.”
“Let me state for the record...” Zander sips his coffee. “I do not want your dick anywhere near my mouth, and we’ve known each other for over ten years. Of course I know your eye color.”
“What are mine?” We all turn, and Mason has his eyes closed.
“Blue,” Sebastian says dryly.
“Weird that you knew.” Mason opens his eyes and flutters his eyelashes. “I’ll warn Emily.”
“I also noticed you had a fucking nose. Get over it.” Sebastian shakes his head. “By the way, how’s Lexi?”
Mason starts shaking his head. “She’s a problem, that’s what she is.”
They’ve fucked. Obviously.
Lexi is Mason’s PA and Emily’s best friend.
I picked up on it at Sebastian and Emily’s engagement party. Mason dragged her away from a friend of ours who was paying attention, clearly staking a claim on her.
Lexi was having none of it.
But she’s hot for him, so I don’t know what he’d done to piss her off.
“That happens when you’re naughty with your employees,” I snort.
Trust me, I keep a solid line between me and mine. Owning a sex club means you need to be extra vigilant around topics of consent and power.
As Mason starts ranting about how professional he is, Drew turns to me. “I want to hear more about The Venture Vault. How did that happen?”
It hasn’t aired yet.
An advertisement has been playing across digital channels, and it’s a doozy. Featuring the lovely Jane and her Wee Wee product line.
I’m not surprised.
It’s going to have people tuning in to see that shitshow of a moment.
“I know the director of the production company. I owed him a favor.” I sip my coffee. “Took up more time than I’d factored, but overall, it was fun.”
My meal arrives. I arrived late, so the others are nearly finished.
“Certainly different from your day to day.” Drew, a finance tycoon, laughs.
He’s usually managing aggressive takeovers and high-risk investments, so our jobs are very different. That is, when I’m not playing the stock market, which I do more than my buddies know.
Not that it’s a secret, but it makes for boring breakfast banter.
“I don’t hear you complaining on Friday nights when Tegan sits on your lap,” I tease.
“And you never will. That girl knows how to sit very well.” Drew chuckles.
“So, is this your foray into Hollywood, or was that a one and done?” Zander asks, entering the conversation. “Not sure I can deal seeing your ugly mug in my action films. Please, no.”
Mason chokes on his coffee and spits it down the front of himself. “Fuck, Zander. Save your one-liners until I’ve swallowed.”
“That’s what she said.” Zander smirks as Mason starts dabbing at his Armani shirt.
Sebastian and I share a look, laughing.
This is why these weekly catch ups are important. My boys keep me grounded, and we have a lot of fun. Even if we do roast each other frequently.
With busy lives like ours, it’s easy to let weeks go by. I see it with other people. We’ve always made our friendships a priority. Hence the regular breakfast dates.
“After what he said to that poor wee-wee girl, I doubt Hollywood is going to come knocking,” Sebastian says.
“What?” I feign shock, slapping my hand on my chest. “I just told her the truth.”
A bunch of eyebrows lift along with a mix of groans.
“Oh, come on! What woman in their right mind is going to shove a contraption like that between their legs and urinate in public?”
I know women.
I own a damn sex club.
The people who work for me are arguably some of the most liberal, open-minded women in the country.
And anyway, all I did was ask how it worked.
That seems to have the internet all up in arms.
Wait until they see what happens next. When Jane plays her video, leaving all five judges perplexed and lost for words.
Even me.
Then...then (!!) she asked if we wanted her to demonstrate.
I said yes.
Daniella lost her mind, climbing to her feet to stop Jane.
Fuck, it was hilarious.
But then we had to give Jane feedback. So, holding back my tears, I had to say the line that has now gone viral. “Jane, nobody is going pee pee in your Wee Wee.”
“I thought it was good.” I smirk at my friends.
Jane was crushed, and her little face added to the fifteen second clip.
I’m the bad guy, whatever.
I did feel a little mean, but in ten years she’ll thank me when she realizes I stopped her from wasting her money. And time.
Daniella leaped to save the girl's pride and is funding her project.
Idiot.
I’m almost certain it was an act of personal vengeance. Apparently dressing and telling her my driver was waiting after multiple orgasms was not how she saw our night ending.
Well, if she thought she was going to tie me down, then it’s on her if she wants to fund a stupid vagina potty.
Still, I will admit, Jane and her invention got me more attention than I was prepared for after the show.
Since then, one of the biggest names in reality TV production called me yesterday and invited me to be on another show.
One I would never have dreamed I’d consider.
“Are you serious?”
“Deadly. Think about it. We do a huge amount of research into the contestants, and all you have to do is show up and decide which one you like,” Todd Baker said.
It was such an out-of-body experience discussing it. I haven’t mentioned it to a single soul.
Not my friends.
Not my family.
Even meeting with him was a strange choice, but curiosity killed the cat and all that.
“This is season five of The Final Rose—Manhattan.” Todd added, “I want you to be our Bachelor.”
I’d never even watched an entire episode. Sure, I’ve flicked past the show while surfing and got caught up in a scene where the guy was kissing one girl then on a date with another.
Lucky guy, I’d thought.
Until you realize he’s being followed around by cameras, and it’s broadcast out to the world.
So why did I meet with him? I still don’t know.
“Thanks Todd. I’m flattered, but it’s not my thing.”
He didn’t accept my response and told me to think about it.
“I think you’d be amazing, Colt. You’re in the prime of your life, unmarried, extremely wealthy and good looking.”
Keep talking.
“Our show has matched over seven happy couples during its run, and all of them have remained married.”
Blink.
“Really?”
“Yes. From athletes to entrepreneurs. Each of them not able to find the time to date as many women as you do in this high-speed show, and with the ability to investigate everything about them...without offense.”
My brows had lifted.
“It’s for the show and its reputation,” Todd had said, lifting his glass to his lips, holding my gaze. “But for a man like you, it gives a lot of reassurance, wouldn’t you say?”
Yeah, it would.
I couldn’t argue with that.
Not after what I had in life. Watching my friend Jack marry a woman who killed him and stole his family's wealth.
Sebastian had been lucky with Emily, but would the rest of us?
“Tell me more.”
He did, going into detail about their research team, who have legal contracts with all the women and access to everything about them. Everything.
“But there is a commitment required at the end of the show. There is a ceremony.”
“A fake one.” I spun my glass on the table.
“No, it’s a legally binding ceremony,” he shared.
Nope.
I was not marrying a woman I met on a TV show.
“Sorry, Todd, no can do. I have some confidential business dealings I can’t divulge and, fuck, marrying one of them...no. Shit no. I’m not your guy.”
“Think on it.”
“Who else do you have lined up?”
“That’s confidential. But yes, we do have a couple of bachelors we’re talking to. You’re our preference.”
I rubbed my forehead and glanced mindlessly around the restaurant. The Final Rose Manhattan. I was not seriously considering it, was I?
I’d never fall in love with a contestant with cameras around. And not fucking them until a certain stage? I almost laughed out loud at the concept.
“No,” I said firmly.
“I’ll call you in a week,” Todd replied. “We have time to sort out contracts, wardrobe and PR if you can give me an answer then.”
This guy was a hound dog, and I respected him for it.
“You’ll get the same answer.”
“We’ll see. My team will send you more information to read through, along with the social profiles of our previous happy couples.”
He’d left me sitting at the table alone, feeling a raft of emotions.
There was no way I was doing it.
My mother would be horrified, for one.
Plus, I wasn’t some sad, unmarried bachelor living in the Big Apple.
Todd was right about a few things: I’m handsome as fuck, almost have a six-pack, am a billionaire four times over, and have dozens of gorgeous women on speed dial.
I could have a date every night of the week, but instead I own a sex club and can just fuck one of them there without flowers or having to buy them dinner.
Pretty sure I have more orgasms than the average man every week because, as Mason likes to say, I have pussy on tap.
But.
With Sebastian getting married, it has stirred something within me. The five of us pledged after Harvard not to marry unless we found true love.
Seb has with Emily.
I wasn’t as affected by the death of our friend Jack just after college. He married Sandy, an obsidian viper who suddenly showed an interest in him when he inherited an insane amount of money. No prenup. Sadly, although we have no proof, we believe she murdered him.
To make sure we never forget, and one day destroy her, we’ve all incorporated Obsidian into our company names.
The Obsidian Club is mine. Sebastian, with Remington Obsidian Holdings. Mason owns Obsidian Nexus Technologies. Drew has Obsidian Capital, which also belongs to Drew and Zander, with Obsidian and Partners—his law firm.
Does she know?
“You’re a black snake, Sandy. We will be watching you,” Mason said the day of Jack’s funeral as we held him back.
She wiped an invisible tear from her eye and then she showed us a glimpse of truth when the corners of her lips turned up.
A flash, and then it was gone.
After leaving the restaurant that I’d met Todd at, I’d headed back to my penthouse and strode through the vast space. Upstairs in my master suit, I had stopped in front of the mirror and shaken my head.
Was I insane?
“Do I want a wife?”
The reality is, I am considering it.