I FOLLOW HENRY WHILE HE BOASTS about his boat. We pass a large outdoor swimming pool on deck three, then a smaller indoor one, and an array of Jacuzzis. There’s a spa, sauna, and a wine cellar that houses five thousand bottles. One lifetime wouldn’t be enough to drink that.
Unless you have Addie in your corner.
Deck two is what Henry calls a beach club, complete with water slides, a kiddies’ pool, water sports equipment, and a diving instructor.
“We’ll be diving in the Bahamas. I hope you’ll convince Addie to try. She always refuses, afraid she’ll drown.” Henry chuckles, a fond twinkle in his eyes. “She’s a girl of many fears.”
I make a mental note of that comment. Addie comes across as tough, composed, and self-sufficient, which isn’t my usual type.
I like feeling needed. I like girls who can hold their own but would rather let their man take care of them. I think those years of looking after Mia at college did something to me.
But then Addie’s let me look out for her since the moment we met. The wine, buckling her up in the car, carrying the luggage… small things that mean a lot.
“What’s the itinerary for this trip?” I ask as we leave the aft, heading upstairs.
“Grand Cayman, Jamaica, Haiti, Bahamas, and back to Miami on Sunday,” he recites the exotic locations as though it’s a casual weekend getaway.
Instead of turning left at the top of the stairs toward the restaurant where we began, Henry guides me up another flight, then down a corridor, halting outside suite seventeen.
“I’ll leave you here but join us in the restaurant as soon as you’re ready.”
“We will,” I assure him, reaching for the door handle.
“No, no, no.” He laughs, shaking his head, and gestures toward a tablet on the wall. “You need the pin. Four digits. This one’s set to Addie’s birthday.”
A perfect ploy to blow our fake dating shit wide open, but, thankfully, Addie’s prepared me for this. I tap in zero nine one one and… nothing happens.
Shit, did I forget her birthday already?
No. No way. It’s November ninth, I’m sure it is.
Henry looks down his nose at me with that special kind of curious annoyance only rich British men can pull off.
British.
Fuck, of course.
“Forgot you guys get your dates all ass about face,” I say with a grin, hoping to get him onside with the old-school reference as I type in one one zero nine instead and the lock disengages with a click.
“Good memory,” Henry praises. “I’ve been married twenty-five years but still get my wife’s birthday wrong.” He pats my shoulder, turns in place like a soldier, and strides down the corridor, his footfalls fading into the distance.
“Addie?” I call out, closing the door behind me.
The suite is larger than any hotel suite I’ve ever been to, and we stayed in the Caesars Palace villa for Cody’s bachelor party. The place screams luxury and elegance, from the plush furniture to the modern artwork adorning the walls.
To my left, there’s a huge living area with leather sofas and a state-of-the-art entertainment system. The bedroom section is on the right, separated by a room divider, the bed so big it looks like two kings squished together.
Soft, ambient lighting creates an intimate atmosphere, but it’s nothing compared to the real showstopper: a glass wall offering an unobstructed view of the open ocean.
The Serenity’s on the move, cutting through the water. The sun dips toward the horizon, painting the soft waves in bright oranges and reds.
“Addie?” I call out again, stepping further in to discover a kitchenette with an Italian coffee maker, fridge, and gourmet snacks set out on a narrow island. There’s an open bottle of champagne there… one flute conspicuously missing.
“In here!” Addie’s voice calls from the right. “Come in!”
I cross the living room, entering the bedroom area where another door leads to the bathroom.
Thick steam fills the air, but Addie’s not naked, wet, and soapy; my horny imagination is disappointed. She’s perched on the edge of the claw tub, wearing a white, fluffy bathrobe, her damp, long hair draped over one shoulder.
Her milky skin glistens with lotion, the smell and sight driving me feral. She’s soft, warm… tempting. Too fucking distracting. I imagine my lips on her collarbones, kissing their way lower to between her breasts, then lower again to nuzzle her belly until I’d make camp between her thighs.
I’ve not stopped imagining that since she walked into my bedroom last night in nothing but that towel.
“Why are you sitting here?”
She looks up from her phone, sets the empty champagne flute aside, and presses a finger to her lips. “You should grab a shower,” she all but shouts, pulling weird faces at me as she walks backward. “We don’t have much time before dinner.”
“Yeah… alright.” My eyebrows knot in the middle. She’s so fucking bizarre sometimes. “You’re done in here?”
The water starts, and Addie sprints back to me, rising on her toes. Her warm, minty breath fans my cheek, and my hands ball into fists, to stop me grabbing her waist and molding her into me.
“I think there’s a camera in the room,” she breathes. “I don’t know if it’s got a microphone.”
“Addie, we’ve been over this. The earth is round, there are no aliens, we landed on the moon, and your mom wouldn’t—”
“You don’t know that!” she cuts me off, her whisper escalating to a fierce hiss. “There’s a wireless phone charging outlet on a shelf in the living room, very conveniently placed with a vantage point of the whole room, and there’s this tiny diode in the base!”
I laugh. What else can I do?
“That diode glows green when your phone’s charged.”
“What if it is a camera?” she insists.
“Your mother didn’t even know I was coming. Why would she plant cameras in your room if she thought you’d be alone?”
Her expression flickers as my argument lands, and she falls back onto her feet. “Right…” she mutters. “You’re right. I’m panicking for nothing.” She takes a deep, centering breath, lifting her gaze to mine. Suddenly realizing how close we are, she tightens her robe, stumbling away. “I’ll change the access code to your birthday just in case.”
“August—”
“I remember!” She waves me off, storming out of the bathroom with a spring in her step. “Your clothes are unpacked. The crew took some things to be pressed. Leave the laundry in the hamper, and they’ll take care of it daily.”
And I thought I had it good with my maid…
Twenty minutes later, I exit the bathroom, showered, and dressed in another Monaco GP outfit, my hair already styled.
I stop two steps into the bedroom, spotting Addie across the room, threading large hoops through her ears. She’s in a wide-leg white body suit that hugs the slim curve of her waist and accentuates her boobs. Her dark hair fans down her back in beach waves, contrasting the light outfit. Barely any makeup, lips stained in deep pink, eyes popping thanks to mascara.
“Have I told you you’re beautiful?” I ask.
“I don’t think you have.” She beams, but her cheeks pink up a touch, adding a million hotness points to her look.
“You’re beautiful, Addie.”
She offers me a sheepish smile, mouthing “thank you” as she finishes with her earrings, tosses her hair over one shoulder, and comes closer, plucking my phone from the bed.
“It’s been pinging constantly for ten minutes.”
“Probably my brothers.”
I unlock the phone, and sure enough, there are forty-seven unread messages among three chats. I open The Holy Trinity first.
Cody: Onboard yet? How’s the yacht? Send us some pics.
Conor: Nico’s asking why we’re looking after the business. Someone called him to report that I showed up at The Olive Tree this morning. What story are we selling?
Both messages were sent less than ten minutes ago. I switch to the Sausage Fest chat, typing out a quick text before they launch a full-scale investigation into my sudden disappearance.
Nico already asked if anyone knows where the fuck I am. I meant to tell them about the trip when I woke up, but it quickly slipped my mind as soon as I saw Addie.
Me: Safe and sound aboard a superyacht (you should fucking see this place, Nico), cruising the Caribbean for the next week with my fake girlfriend: Audrey, whom I’m saving from marrying a slimy-sounding fucker named Grant.
A soft chuckle behind me alerts me to Addie’s presence and her nosy peeking over my shoulder.
“Spying on me?”
“Sorry… it was an accident.”
“Of course it was.” I settle down on the bed, grab her elbow, and tug her down beside me. “Now watch. Logan won’t believe me. Shawn will kick into detective mode, Nico will take it at face value, and Theo probably won’t reply until tomorrow.”
Shawn: What’s her surname? How long have you known her?
Nico: If the other two-thirds of The Holy Trinity fuck something up while you’re gone, it’s on your head.
Conor: Hey!
Cody: That’s not fair!
Logan: Does this Audrey come inflated, or…?
“I like Logan best so far,” Addie says, grabbing my phone. She flicks to the camera, quickly taking a selfie of us. Her smile beams bright and cheeky as she stares into the lens. With another tap, the picture appears in the chat.
My brothers all start typing at once.
Logan: Considering it’s her hand holding the phone: hey, Audrey. Do me a favor and smack the back of Colt’s head. He’ll know what it’s for.
And whack goes Addie, her chuckle adding insult to injury as the messages come thick and fast. “What was it for?”
“Not letting them know about the trip, and letting you see the chat. It’s sacred ground. I’m revoking your privileges.”
Me: She did, thanks for that, bro.
“Just let me see their replies, and that’s it. I promise,” Addie says, leaning into me harder every time I try to move away.
Fine. A few more messages won’t hurt. She audibly gasps as soon as I show her the screen.
“That’s illegal!”
Shawn: Face recognition comes up with Audrey Weston. Ran a check, she’s pristine. Have fun, don’t drown.
Theo: Let the betting commence.
“That’s quite enough.” I lock the screen. “We should join your family for dinner. I’m starving.”
“Betting? What are they betting on?”
“They bet on anything and everything.”
“This is obviously about me.” She lunges forward to snatch my phone. “I want to know.”
“And I want food.”
“Show me!”
“No. Drop it.” I grab her by the elbow, then swing her over my shoulder and march out, phone tucked in the back pocket of my pants. “Food, Addie.” I poke her butt once we’re out in the corridor. “Left, is it?”
“Left and put me down!” she squeals, every word punctuated with laughter. “Please, I’m not wearing shoes!”
“You’ll survive. No dinging the deck with your heels.”
She stretches for my back pocket, but before her hands reach my phone, I slide her down my front, setting her on her feet at the bottom of the stairs.
“Nosey creature.”
“It’s only natural!” She grabs her waist with both hands, pulling an almost convincing stern school teacher expression. “What are they betting on?”
Us, baby.
More precisely: how long it takes before our fake relationship turns very fucking real.
Too bad they don’t have all the info—I’m here by accident and still not convinced I’m her type. Sure, she came on to me when she was tipsy, but that doesn’t count. Besides, we just fucking met. I’m not rushing into anything. Especially since this week is supposed to be nothing but a business transaction; we’ll both get what we want from the situation. She gets a Grant-free trip, and by the end, I’ll be free from my brothers’ blackmailing.
Win-win.
Anything else I get out of this will be a welcome bonus.
“Oh, there you are!” a female voice booms behind us.
We turn to find a young woman trotting down the stairs on ludicrous heels, her navy fitted dress so long the back is still at the top while she’s halfway down.
“I’ve missed you so much, sis!”
Addie stiffens beside me briefly, then releases a breath, forcing her muscles to relax as the girl engulfs her in a tight hug.
“Amara, this is Colt, my boyfriend,” Addie says when Amara pulls away, looking me up and down.
“Victoria mentioned Addie brought a guest,” she trills, extending her hand to suggest it should be kissed. “It’s a pleasure. I’m Amara, the bride-to-be.”
“Congratulations on your engagement.”
A dazzling smile takes the width of her face as she proudly presents her finger, adorned with a big-ass rock. It’s bigger and uglier than the ring Conor bought Vivienne before he consulted us. I guess Amara’s got around-the-clock security, so she doesn’t have to worry about being mugged…
We move to the restaurant where over twenty people are sitting around a long table. The introductions and surprised glances my way don’t end for ten minutes, but once I’ve shaken all hands and exchanged pleasantries, Henry drapes his arm over my shoulders, steering me away.
“Don’t mind the commotion,” he says, signaling the bartender. “No one believed Victoria when she announced Addie had brought a boyfriend. They’ll calm down by tomorrow.”
“That’s… reassuring.”
He smirks, resting an elbow on the counter. “So tell me, Colt, what do you do for a living?”
“Business management and acquisition. I own a few places in Orange County and manage my brother’s portfolio. He started focusing solely on market trading a few years ago.”
“A stockbroker, eh? A handy person to have in the family.”
“Sure is,” I agree, ordering a drink from the bartender. “Can I have a glass of Château Lafite Rothschild Pauillac?”
“A fine choice,” the bartender commends. “I’ll fetch a bottle from the cellar.”
As the bartender leaves, Henry’s posture stiffens and his eyes narrow slightly. “Hayes,” he mutters, with an air of realization. “Of course. I knew it rang a bell. Your brother, the stockbroker, is Nico Hayes, yes?”
“Yes.” Addie joins us, wearing a look of bothersome terror. One glance behind her explains the issue: her mother’s glaring at her with a deep eleven marking her forehead. “I don’t think there’s a soul in Newport who hasn’t heard about Nico,” she adds, her hand sneaking around my back.
We align seamlessly, naturally, and as if we’ve done it a thousand times before, I draw her closer.
“His reputation precedes him,” Henry agrees. “The real-estate agent who helped me find Addie’s house sang his praises. I believe it was thanks to your brother that Michael tripled his inheritance, raising enough to start his own agency.”
“That wouldn’t surprise me. The list of people my brother’s turned into millionaires grows exponentially.”
The bartender returns with the bottle, turning his back to us as he fetches a glass and a corkscrew.
“I’d appreciate it if you could open and pour right here,” I tap the counter twice.
“I see you’re aware of Audrey’s peculiarities,” he muses. “I assure you she trusts me to handle her drinks. I’ve been doing so for four years.”
“She’s smart, not peculiar,” I clip, taking offense on her behalf, “and while you may have earned her trust, you haven’t earned mine.” I tap the bar once more. “Here, please.”
He dips his head in what I assume is a polite bow, then gets to work with his hands where I can see them.
“Right, shall we?” Henry asks, biting back a smirk as he starts toward the table, leaving us to follow.
“Brown-noser,” Addie muses in my ear.
“Excuse me?”
“At this rate, Dad will start calling you son before the end of the evening.” Her voice grows softer, her breath ghosting across my cheek. “I told you I don’t care if they like you. Be yourself.”
Eyes still on the bartender, I slide my hand down her back. “I am being myself.”
“Oh…” She inches away, searching for any signs of bluffing in my eyes.
“Why would I act like someone I’m not when I still want to take you out on a date once we’re home?”
“You do? Really?”
I don’t know why she’s so surprised.
With every hour, I discover more things I like about her, and this is just day one. By the time we return to Miami on Sunday, I’ll know her inside out, and unless she uncovers some truly horrific secrets, it’s safe to assume I’ll want to keep seeing her.
“Yes, really. You said I can call you next week.”
She takes a step back, snatching her wine off the counter. “You have my number,” she says, and with a cute wink, she walks away, following her father.
