CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
RILEY
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I feel like I’m dreaming. If I overthink all of this, I know I’d run out the door, so I don’t.
After we had sex several times, Colt gifted me the Balenciaga gown I’m wearing and told me to get changed.
I knew the night would be long, so I asked him to wait while I unpacked my truck.
I should’ve known he’d help.
Slapping my bottom, he lifted the wheelbarrow out of the back and, good lord, his muscles! He’s so much more ripped than I noticed on screen, and by the time we’d finished and gone back inside, I jumped him.
“Christ woman, you had two orgasms.”
“Fuck me, Colt.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He pulled his cock out and was inside me in seconds. “Oh, fucking hell, you feel good.”
I was addicted.
Even after I came again, I wanted him immediately. Colt Winters should come with a warning label.
“After dinner I’m spending an hour sucking your pussy. I’m going to tie you up and gag you.”
“Promises, promises.” I’d grinned at him as we climbed out of the shower.
Once dressed, Colt drove us back to his hotel, which just happens to be the tallest building in the city.
The Dufort Hotel.
When we were escorted to the top of the building and I stepped out onto the most romantic setting I’d ever seen, I gasped, clutching his arm.
“Colt, you did all this?”
“I paid people to do it, gorgeous.” He turned and kissed me deeply, my heart hitching.
He did all of this for me?
No man had ever done anything even close to this. I don’t care that he paid people. We’d had sex, he’d got what he wanted, and it was likely he knew that would happen. Yet he’d purchased a designer dress and was making me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world right now.
The way he’s gazing across the table—Christ, it makes me shiver. The dominance, the power, his sex appeal.
There was no way I could resist him.
Not now, not when he’d arrived.
And he knew it.
Around us, the entire space is covered in roses and candles. The table is covered in a white cloth with silver cutlery and crystal glasses. Romantic, soft live music plays in the background, and the view across the city is crazy.
Yet, his eyes are on me, and mine are on his.
Colt changed into a navy suit and white shirt and looks so beautiful I want to cry. The leather bracelet peeks out from under his heavy timepiece.
It still makes me curious, as it doesn’t fit his style at all. I feel like there’s a story there.
His hair is wavy and healthy, and green eyes sparkle as they gaze at me with a possessiveness I’m beginning to crave.
Gone is my shame of our phone sex; he’s seen it all now, replaced with a desire for more of him.
He’s going to leave, I know that.
But we have tonight, and I’m soaking every little bit of it up.
“What do you think of Melbourne?” I ask, sipping my water as the sun settles low in the sky.
“I’ve seen my hotel room and your bedroom. And between your legs. The latter, so far, is my favorite,” Colt deadpans.
I choke on my water, and he laughs.
Despite the chemistry flowing between us, I want to know more about him before this is over, so I steer the conversation away from sex.
“Tell me about your job.” I’ve never asked him too much because I didn’t want to sound like some gold-digging chick after his money.
I’m not after anything.
I never expected Colt to even respond to my first message, yet here he sits opposite me in Australia.
Surely he didn’t fly all the way here just for sex?
Did he?
I have zero doubts that he has a raft of females in New York, and all around America, that would want to date him. I just never let myself go down that rabbit hole.
Now that we’ve slept together, I hate the idea.
“My business is boring. Nothing exciting to share. I’m sure you googled me.”
I blink, feeling the lie on his lips.
Now I’m intrigued further.
“Well, lucky for you, I’m still floating on a post-orgasmic high, so why don’t you bore me for ten minutes. I want to know.”
He stares at me like I’ve just asked him for his Black American Express PIN code. I watch as he takes a slow sip of his wine and swirls it around in the glass.
“Barossa Valley. Very nice.”
He takes another sip.
I wait.
I don’t like that he’s been so evasive. It’s a bit of a red flag. Not that I’m marrying him, but we’ve been honest with one another until now. So, what is the problem?
Colt sighs. “I own a bar. I invest in stocks. I’m a wealthy man, you know that.”
“Sure,” I shrug. “But don’t you have anything to tell me—"
“Ask me what you really want to know.”
I frown. “It wasn’t a loaded question. Why are you being so defensive?”
He waits.
Another slow sip.
Then he lowers the glass.
“I am defensive when it comes to discussing business with women. I’m a billionaire. It’s not uncommon for—”
“I don’t want your money.” I grit out angrily.
“No.” he takes another sip.
Glancing away, I feel the urge to leave. I hate what he was insinuating.
“Riley.” Colt leans forward and reaches out for my hand.
I hesitate.
He waits.
“I apologize.”
I give him my hand, and he rubs a thumb over my skin.
“Why did you do that?”
“My friend died. He married a woman who was after his money. She took every cent,” Colt shakes his head. “I don’t know why I told you that.”
“That’s horrible,” I run my finger over the black leather, and he seems to disappear for a long moment. Then his eyes return to mine.
“This is my daily reminder that life is short. That those you love can disappear in an instant.”
Oh.
I knew it was significant.
“Did your friend give it to you?
“My friends and I traveled to Italy the year before we graduated Harvard. We got them at a little stand. All of us. Including Jack.”
Jack.
He’s never mentioned him before. For a split second, I wonder if Colt is bisexual.
“Was Jack someone you loved?”
His lips quirk. “Yes, but not in the way you’re thinking. I have five—four, now—best friends. Sebastian, Drew, Zander, and Mason. Jack was...he died after we graduated.”
My heart sinks for them.
“I’m so sorry; that’s horrible.”
He runs a hand through his hair, and I inappropriately take in the bulge of his bicep muscle. “Yeah, it shaped our lives after that.”
“I’m sure it did.” Colt has a lot more depth to him than he’s shown me previously.
God, do not fall in love with him.
“I saw the show,” I say, changing the topic to give him a break from his memories. “I guess you weren’t too much of a troll after all.”
Mirth sparkles in his eyes.
“You wouldn’t use one of Jane’s Wee Wee’s?”
We grin at each other as I shake my head and shiver. “Hell, no.”
Laughing, he leans back as our meals arrive, thanking the server, and we both stare at the incredible dishes before us.
Mortein Bay Bugs are, simply put, a small version of a lobster. On the large white plate, beside the sliced bug are a half dozen scallops, king prawns and a green salad.
“Wow,” I lick my lips.
“I wanted to try them.” Colt grins. “They’re exclusive to Australia.”
“I’ve had them twice before in Queensland.” I admit. “The Balmain Bug from Sydney is also delicious. Very disappointed not to see it sitting in this tiny space left on the plate right here.” I point.
Colt laughs, and I see he likes me teasing him.
“I'll do better next time.”
Next time?
We both start eating, ignoring that comment, because we know there won't be a next time. It was a joke, nothing more, nothing less, and I’m not reading into it.
“So where is your bar?” I ask, curious to know more now we’ve cleared the air.
“SoHo. It's just a bar with overpriced drinks in Manhattan, Riley. People with too much money come to impress their friends and pick up women.”
“Do you? Pick up women?”
“Yes. I'm a thirty-four-year-old man,” he replies, and my stomach sinks.
It shouldn’t.
I have no right to feel like that.
“Of course.” I shake my head, feeling stupid.
Colt slides a fork full of food into his mouth and chews, his strong jaw confident and not at all shaken by the conversation.
“I don’t get involved with my employees.” He holds my gaze, then looks away.
What is he being so evasive?
This is like trying to solve one of those Rubix Cubes from the eighties. Almost like he’s talking in riddles and I’m supposed to read between the lines.
Does he think I’m waiting for a ring? That I expect him to fall in love with me now that he’s flown across the world?
It’s hard not to be completely charmed by Colt, but I’m trying really hard to keep my head on straight.
“Well, that seems like a sensible decision.” I smile, hoping to put his mind at ease that I won’t turn into a clingy weirdo. “And I'm sure many women in the States wish they were sitting in my shoes.”
I smile.
It’s forced as fuck.
“They are none of my business.” His voice is rough, his eyes turning dark as they lock with mine.
“Why?” I swallow.
“Because, Riley Scott, none of them are you.”
He wasn’t supposed to say that. But now that he has and my temperature is rising, my heart pounding, I have to know. I need to know.
What is this?
“Cole, why did you come here?”
He licks his lips, raises his glass and slowly drinks, all while holding my gaze. Then, finally, he rasps, “because you wouldn't take my calls.”
“That’s not true.”
Silence.
He takes another sip.
“Colt—”
‘No more questions, beautiful. Let's enjoy tonight.” He takes my hand. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”
My heart sinks even though I knew it was unlikely he’d be here long. It’s a long way to come only to jump back on a plane and return. “What airline did you fly?”
He releases my hand and dabs at his mouth with the napkin, clearing his throat. “I brought the jet.”
I brought the jet?!
Jesus Christ.
It didn't even occur to me. I thought he might have flown first class.
Colt Winters owns a private jet. Of course he does. He probably has a ship or boat or whatever rich people call them.
I don't know why I find it so intimidating, but I do. This isn't comfortable to admit, but I feel completely out of my league. The Balenciaga dress I’m wearing, which is a stunning pale beige silk, probably cost the same as my entire mortgage this month.
This dinner is likely just as much.
What does it even cost to bring a jet to Australia?
The music increases a little, and Colt stands, holding out his hand.
I’m startled out of my thoughts and glance around him to see the sun setting. It’s the most romantic moment of my life. Surely he realizes the impact this sort of thing can have on a woman. The message it sends.
No more questions, beautiful.
I’m not wealthy. I’m having trouble telling myself, this is just fun for him. Just an adventure.
“Riley, dance with me.”
I place my hand in his, and suddenly he pulls me to my feet and twirls me around like we’re in a ballroom.
Gasping, I laugh and land on his chest. Panting, I stare into his gorgeous green eyes and melt.
All my worries fade away.
Confidently, Colt guides me around our make-believe dance floor, one firm hand on my lower back, the other lifting mine to his lips.
“Having fun?”
“I feel like Cinderella,”
“Do you have an evil stepmother I need to destroy?”
“Yes, she’s called the tax department,” I reply cheekily.
“Ah yes, working on that one myself.” He winks, and I simply die.
Falling in love with Colt Winters is the worst possible thing in the world I could do right now, but he’s not making it easy. Any girl would be charmed by this sexy man.
His hand slides over the silk of my dress, cupping my buttocks, and I nestle into his chest as the music slows. The stars twinkle brighter as the sky turns black, the candles adding to the romantic vibe.
My world feels perfect.
I left myself imagine that I belong to him. For a moment, I close my eyes, and we are in love, dancing under the stars while a brilliant diamond sits heavily on my ring finger. Our children are at home in our gorgeous house, and my parents are babysitting.
Just when I’m about to snap out of it, Colt scoops me up into his arms and kisses me slowly like we’re in a Hallmark movie, making everything, oh so much more perfectly worse.
“Let’s go home, my little gardener.”