by Colt, Shyla
“No one’s going to try to steal me, you know?”
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about the messages I want to send.”
A puff of air escapes her lips as she shakes me off and steps away. My arm locks around her, and I return her to my side.
“You’re laying it on extra thick,” she drawls.
“Since you’re mine, I plan to make sure everyone knows it.”
Her eyes darken, and her nostrils flare. I know she’s enjoying it.
“You’ve never had a man who knew how to take care of you properly. I’m going to show you what it should be like.” We lapse into silence as the elevator takes us to the lobby. We step out together, and she pauses in the hallway.
“What?”
“If we do this, we can’t take it back. If he finds out we lied, he’ll be out for blood.”
“There’s never been anything we couldn’t accomplish together. Why would this be any different?”
“You believe that?”
“I know that.” I squeeze her side and encourage her to move. “Come. We don’t want to be late.”
Walking to the restaurant in the hotel, I can’t help but admire the build. Coming to the United Kingdom has always made me aware of how young America truly is. We don’t have landmarks, buildings, or historical sites the way they do. The lives of others seem to be left behind in the very stone and soil.
I’m impressed as we enter the dining room. The high ceilings with ornate decorations, the columns, and zigzag-patterned wooden floor shone to a high gloss ooze class.
“I hear you had room troubles last night,” Alby says as we enter the dining room.
“Yes. My ceiling sprang a leak in the wee hours of the morning,” Adora explains.
I pull out a chair for her at the table and push her in under the white linen cloth that covers it.
“I hope everything is okay now,” Priscila says. Her gaze darts from me to Adora. “You can always stay with me.”
“She’s staying with me while they figure things out.” I shut down her offer. “They’re booked up for the entire week, but we’re used to being in each other’s space.”
Alby’s eyes burn into me. He can be as heavy-handed as he wants when it comes to Alby Software, but this is my life. I’ve grown disenchanted with him. Crossing boundaries, pitting Porter and me against each other is old.
“This is why you don’t put all your eggs in one basket.” I hear my father’s voice in my head. I have to prove him wrong. I’m too old to start over from scratch or crawl back to my parents. This deal needs to be finalized within the week. We’ve been courting Scott Software for over six months. There’s nothing else to consider.
“Tell them where we’re headed today, sweetheart.” Mr. Scott smiles down at his daughter.
“We’re going to see Stonehenge, Windsor Castle, St. George’s Cathedral, and Bath. It’s a trendy tour. I think everyone will enjoy it. Make sure you have cameras because you’ll want to take a ton of photos.”
I look over at Adora, who pats her satchel. Of course she’s on top of things.
Priscila leans over the table, batting her false lashes. “Have you ever been to London before, Weston?”
“Many times with my family.”
“Oh.” Her shoulders slump slightly.
“But one never gets tired of seeing beautiful sights. Isn’t that right, boy?” Alby asks.
“I find I learn something new with every trip. Who you’re with can make all the difference.” I reach over and squeeze Adora’s hand.
“I have lots of things to share.” Priscila clears her throat. “With all of you. I do love to play tour guide.”
“St. George is where Harry and Meghan Merkle were married, right? I can’t wait to take pictures for everyone back home.” Adora grins.
Priscila wrinkles her nose. “It’s a shame he broke with so much tradition. I know you Americans loved it, but it was ...” she pauses, “jarring for us.”
“Oh. Do tell.” The venom in Adora’s voice is unmistakable.
“There are certain values that should be upheld, to assure the royal lineage is maintained and the practices that have held for centuries continue.”
“How pureblood and Voldemort of locals.”
“Are you referring to the Harry Potter series?” Priscila huffs. “That’s fiction. This is fact.”
“And yet the prejudices appear to be alive and well considering how poorly they treated the Duchess of Sussex,” Adora says coolly.
“I don’t believe people should be faulted for trying to protect their legacy.” She places a sugar cube in her tea and stirs. “America is so young. I think that desire gets misconstrued and lost in translation.” Priscila gives a thin smile.
“We have a saying back home. You can put a pig in lipstick, but it’s still a pig.”
Priscila’s brow wrinkles. “Why would you put lipstick on a swine?”
“Indeed.” Adora nods and takes a sip of her water.
I’m enjoying their verbal sparring, but the daggers from Alby force me into motion. “You’ve been here before, sir. What do you suggest for breakfast?” I ask Mr. Scott.
A comfortable silence sweeps over us as we busy ourselves with the business of breakfast and traveling to the tour starting point.
I’VE BEEN HERE WITH my parents, but seeing it through Adora’s eyes makes it a fresh experience. Her delight is contagious. Even old man Scott seems to be charmed, much to his daughter’s chagrin.
“I always enjoy visiting these places with new tourists. I’ve started to take it for granted,” Scott says, smiling over Priscila’s head.
“I can’t believe the sheer size of this place,” Adora whispers as we exit the massive, gray stone structure. “And the security. I mean, it makes sense, but it’s not something I ever thought about. It was like going through an airport.”
“We take protecting her majesty very seriously,” Priscila says haughtily.
“As you should. She’s a national treasure.” The awe in Adora’s voice is genuine.
“I can’t imagine how you guys deal with switching up leaders constantly.” Scott shakes his head. “Each person brings a new style to get used to.”
Alby’s age and questionable health forced him to stay back, allowing me the freedom to bond with Scott on my own.
“We truly appreciate you taking the time to show us around.”
“I like to know who I’m doing business with. Merging our companies would be beneficial monetarily, but I want to know it won’t damage the reputation I’ve cultivated over the years. I don’t need to tell you, Alby has been known for less than scrupulous behavior in the past.”
“That was before my time with Alby Software, so I can’t speak to that, sir.”
He grunts. “What do you see the future for the company being under your control?”
“That would be a lot of assuming on my part, sir.”
“Humor me, please.”
I exhale. This is my chance to share my vision for our future with me at the helm. Maybe he has some inside information on what Alby plans to do once he retires.
“Well—”
“Daddy!”
I glance over, and my jaw drops at the sight of white ruffled feathers flapping as an orange beaked monstrosity with a strip of black lunges toward her. It bats at her legs and pecks. Priscila scrambles back, kicking out with her booted foot.
“Don’t hurt them. They belong to her majesty!” According to the tour guide, all silent, unmarked swans belong to the queen as part of an old tradition. I’ve never been more pleased about that random fact. Scott runs toward her, arms out. Its beak clamps down on Priscila’s olive-green jacket and shakes its head like a dog worrying a bone. Screeching, Priscila spins. Her father removes his jacket and shoos the swan, hell-bent on taking a chunk out of his daughter. I choke down the laughter threatening to burst from my throat. He bats at the bird’s head, repeatedly, and it backs off. They stand in defensive st
ances like two boxers about to brawl. Slowly, man and beast back away from one another.
Adora stumbles over to me and grips my arm. She buries her face into my chest, and her body shakes. “God doesn’t like ugly, but apparently neither does nature,” she whispers.
My lips twitch.
“Let’s retreat while we have the chance,” Scott calls as we hurry down the street. Priscila is a tear-streaked, torn clothing mess. Scott steers her to a local souvenir shop.
“Let’s get you cleaned up and sorted out.”
Twenty minutes and a bathroom stop later, Priscila is clad in a kitschy navy-blue T-shirt with London in the Panama jack print. Her face is clean and clear of the professional makeup, taking years from her. She’s more subdued as we’re led into St. George’s Chapel. I can feel the lingering spirits of the monarchs laid to rest in the chapel as we step inside. I crane my neck to peer up at the high vaulted ceilings. Adora gasps and places a hand over her heart.
“This is absolutely stunning,” she whispers.
I nod my head in agreement.
“I’ve never been inside any church this grand,” Adora says. The sunlight shining through the stained-glass windows is dazzling.
“Can you imagine being married here?” Priscila whispers.
“Thanks to the Royal Wedding, which I admittedly cried my way through, yes,” Adora says sheepishly.
Scott chuckles. “The Gregorian architecture is breathtaking, and many moments of history took place within these walls.”
Priscila walks over beside me. “Do you like history, Weston?”
“It’s important to remember it, so we don’t repeat the past.” I keep my tone polite but distant. When I gave her an inch previously, she tried to take a mile.
“Such a brilliant way to look at things.” She flutters her lashes.
I glance over at Adora, who smirks.
“Yes, I’ve found his mind is one of the most attractive assets,” Adora purrs silkily.
“How long have you worked for him?” Priscila emphasizes the word worked.
“About five years now? Though it seems like a lifetime.”
“I wouldn’t know what to do without her,” I say honestly.
“Good help is so hard to find.” Priscila nods.
“Oh, she’s much more than that.” I trail my hand down her back. “Aren’t you?”
She shivers, and her eyes darken. Her full lips form a smile. “Hmmm.”
Scott studies us both quietly.
“I want to show you where they sit for mass.” I guide her away from the curious eyes.
Chapter Three
Adora
I always heard travel will drive a couple apart or bring them closer together. It’s just my luck that West and I fall into the latter category. The ease in which I fall into this relationship zone terrifies me. Our hands brush, and my heart leaps up into my throat. His knowing looks and dark smiles make me squirm in the seat of our tour bus. The asshole is enjoying this. I can feel Priscila’s eyes burning into the back of my skull as the bus pulls up at our next destination. Bath, England. The bus pulls into a parking spot, and I all but jump up when the vehicle stops moving and the doors open.
I want to get out of the enclosed space, with spiteful eyes and Weston’s delicious body pressed against mine. He’s making it hard to remember this will all end with the trip. His light caresses up my arm and the way he intertwines our fingers. The caress of his thumb over my knuckles had my breasts swollen and my underwear damp. Has he always exuded this much sexual energy? How had I never noticed? Because it wasn’t aimed at me. The thought is sobering. This is nothing for him.
The parade of women I purchased gifts for is proof enough of that. I try to extinguish the lust building up inside of me, a fire being fueled by more logs. The fresh air is a welcome reprieve as I step down onto the sidewalk. My eyes drink in the Neo-Classical style with its towering stone buildings, faded over time to a light sandstone brown. It’s easy to see Roman’s preferences for blank walls and columns as I spin in a circle. Other buildings boast simple geometric frames taken from the Greeks. The stone slab walls are full of people, but there’s no bustle. A street musician plays a chill tune with his guitar, and people travel at a leisurely pace.
It’s a refreshing change of pace after Windsor. I pause in front of the sweeping gothic architecture of the Bath Abby.
“I have to take some photos for my sister. She’ll love this.”
“You go pose, I’ll take some shots,” West’s voice rumbles from beside me.
“Oh. Thank you.” I move to stand in front of the building as he pulls my camera free and smiles as he snaps shots.
“Why don’t I get one of the two of you together?” Scott says.
“If you don’t mind, sir,” West says with a smile.
“Not at all. Memories are important to capture.” Scott takes the camera, and West walks over and pulls me to his side.
“Try to look happy to be with me, sweet one.” He bends down and nuzzles my ear.
“I don’t turn it off and on as easily as you do, West,” I snap, careful to keep my voice low and my face the mirror of happiness.
He blinks. “You think everyone gets to see this side of me, little girl?”
“Don’t they?” My mouth goes dry.
“No.” His voice is a low, gravelly sound tinged with sincerity.
My knees threaten to weaken as he grips my hip and turns to face the camera. I feel dazed as the photos are snapped, and we’re taken to the famous Baths—the oldest and best-preserved standing Roman architecture in the world. Large stone slabs have been carved into tall pillars that hold up a floor with detailed railings that overlook a large pool. The only naturally occurring hot springs in Europe were hidden, covered for three hundred years before excavations revealed there were temples and then the thermal baths.
“You’re very knowledgeable,” I compliment Priscila, determined to kill her with kindness. I want to keep her claws out of West without isolating her enough to make her father think twice about dealing with us.
“She should be. I dragged her all around on trips.” Scott looks at his daughter warmly.
“That you did, Father.” She smiles, and I wonder what it is about West that has her so determined to have him.
Aren’t there any proper British lads she can latch onto? I do my best to downplay the affection West is trying to show, avoid eye contact, and only briefly hold his hand. My foot catches on an uneven stone. West grabs me by my forearm.
“Careful. You can’t actually swim in the baths.” West smirks. “Hold on to me. The ground is uneven.”
Is the universe itself plotting against me? The steamy heat emanating from the green pool is impressive. Underground, we can see where the overflow from the pool runs off and into the river. Squinting at the original ruins they’ve built upon, I can picture the bathhouse as it once might’ve looked.
“It’s worn down so much over time, even with its magnificence, it’s a shadow of its former glory. I believe in building things right, so they last. If you make your product properly and take care of your people, the legacy you leave behind will continue to grow.” His message is clear. If he doesn’t think we can accomplish that, he’s going to pass on the deal.
I look up at West and find his expression grim. He heard him loud and clear.
“My father taught me a lot about that,” West says softly.
“Harrison Rogers?”
“Yes, sir.”
Scott smiles. “I know. I make it my business to know who my future employees are. It’s one of the reasons I requested you personally to work with me. I admire your father’s grit, practices, and success. I’ve often wondered why you didn’t follow in his footsteps.”
“I wanted to forge my own path. Anything else felt like I was being handed something. It was my goal to take everything my father taught me and create something for myself.”
“And have you done that?” Scott asks.
> “Not yet, sir. But I’m this close.” He holds his pointer finger and thumb an inch apart.
“And your Plan B, if that doesn’t work out?” Scott shifts his weight.
“There’s no Plan B. There’s only my will and drive until I get to where I’m trying to be.”
Scott’s thick salt and pepper eyebrows lift.
The line moves, and the intense moment is broken. We walk up to a fountain, and I read the sign.
“You can drink it?” I ask skeptically.
“It’s been filtered, obviously.” Priscila rolls her eyes. “It was believed to have healing properties sent from Minerva.” Priscila smirks. “Unless you’re too chicken.”
I straighten to my full height. “Let me have a cup.” I take one of the paper cones and hold it beneath the warm water. Lifting the rim to my lips, I grimace. “It tastes like warm pennies.”
Scott chuckles, and we meander out onto the streets and back to the tour bus for our final destination.
“IS IT HORRIBLE IF I admit I found Stonehenge underwhelming?” I ask.
West barks a laugh. “No. I felt the same way when I first saw it. It’s literally just ... stones.”
I nod and plop down on the bed.
We’d ambled in around sunset and parted, agreeing to meet at seven for dinner.
“How do you think it went?”
“I understand why he’s been hesitating. Alby has pulled some shady things in the past, and it’s made Scott hesitant. I can’t blame him.”
“He made it clear he likes you, though.” I turn my body to face him on the bed.
“Yes, but I’m only a part of the company, a fairly replaceable part. As CEO, I make good money and wield some power, but it’s not the same as being a partial owner. He knows that.” Walking over to the mini-fridge, he pulls out a glass for whiskey. He pops the top on the mini bottle and empties the amber liquid over the ice.
“Feeling tense?”
“That’s an understatement, sweet one. I don’t feel confident Scott is going to bite.”