by Gage Grayson
If I tell her about why I want the land, then that means I’m genuinely growing attached to her. If she was simply my real-estate agent, I wouldn’t care in the slightest what she thought about my intentions.
And yet, here I am, caring very much about Rosa’s opinion of me. I want her to know that I’m not just another of her ridiculous billionaire clients. I want her to see the me who cares about more than himself…more than money.
After I’ve eaten my muffin, I walk along the beachfront with my iced coffee, watching as people jog or stroll past. There are already people lying out on sun loungers, who look as if they’ve been there since the sun rose.
It doesn’t take me long to reach Hampton Properties, even though I take my time getting there. I end up walking through the door of the building close to half an hour early.
“Ah, Mr. Storm. We weren’t expecting you so early!” the business owner exclaims—a middle-aged woman with a meticulous dress sense and impeccably done hair, makeup, and nails—as she notices who’s walked in through the door.
She turns her head and calls out, “Rose! Mr. Storm is here!”
I feel a stirring in my cock when Rose appears, her wild hair smoothed back and kept under control in a tight updo. Nothing about her appearance belies what we were up to last night and into the early hours of the morning. Somehow I find that an incredible turn-on.
She doesn’t even blush when she faces me and smiles. In all honesty, most of the people I work with could take a page or two out of Rose’s book about maintaining an air of professionalism regardless of who it is they need to work with.
“Mr. Storm, good morning,” Rose greets.
I nod my head and return her smile.
“And you, Miss Clark.”
“Couldn’t keep away any longer?”
“Given that my sole purpose in the Hamptons is to look at real estate, it surely comes as no surprise that I couldn’t.”
Rose just about manages to avoid raising an eyebrow.
“You wanted to view that beachfront property again today, didn’t you? I do remember mentioning that the owner is away skiing at the moment.”
“There were just a few checks I needed to make of the kitchen that I forgot to do when we visited a few days ago. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not,” Rose says, walking over to the front door and holding it open, gesturing for me to walk through first.
She glances at her boss. “Claire, you likely won’t see me for the rest of the day. Mr. Storm and I have quite a few empty plots to investigate this afternoon.”
Claire waves us off as I exit the building, Rose following close behind.
We say nothing for a few minutes as we walk along to the first property we’re viewing—it’s close enough that it doesn’t warrant taking a car.
I notice Rose watching me out of the corner of her eye.
“You’re dressed very casually today, Erik. You didn’t even shave.”
I run a hand over the bristle covering my jawline, surprised.
“I guess I was too preoccupied thinking about other things to do so.”
Rose snorts in laughter, her nose wrinkling up with the sound, and I have to hold back a sudden desire to kiss her.
“You don’t look as if last night affected you at all, Rosa,” I remark.
She grins.
“I’ll admit that I have the pretend-you-weren’t-out-drinking-fucking-all-night-and-nearly-dying-at-a-wedding look down to a fine art.”
God, this woman is funny.
When we reach the house I want to buy for myself, we take our time wandering around the rooms. Rose has given me the spiel on the property before. So this time, we make our way around the house, laughing and flirting and generally not doing any checks of the house at all.
When we reach the terrace, I walk over to the hot tub that’s built into the wooden planks. I raise an eyebrow suggestively at Rose.
“Think we could give this a test run before I buy the place?”
“I somehow think that’s not allowed, Mr. Storm.”
“Speaking of buying, when does the owner return from his ski trip anyway?”
Rose pulls out her phone and checks her calendar. She frowns as she browses through it.
“Um…four or five days from now. I think it’s a late flight.”
I run a hand through my hair. I can’t help but feel just the slightest bit irritated. Literally not one property or plot of land that I’ve wanted to put an offer for has gone my way—I haven’t seen so much as a single sheet of paperwork to sign.
Rose senses my shift in mood.
And, then, I just buck up and say it.
“Rosa, why are you delaying this whole process for me? Have I done something to offend you? I thought we were—”
“Do you honestly think I’d be so unprofessional as to do something like that?” Rose interrupts, her tone bristling. “Unlike you, I rely on my job for a living—my family relies on my job for a living. That’s what people in the real world are like. That’s how the locals around here live. I can’t afford to give a client attitude just because I have some secret agenda.”
She turns from me. “You know what, clearly you’re just as impatient and entitled as the rest of my clients. I don’t know why I thought you were different.”
I pause, considering what to say next. I feel very guilty for having questioned Rose’s character.
“Rose, that wasn’t…I wasn’t being fair. I’m sorry. You know I don’t think that. I guess I’m just—I don’t know—irritated. And, you’re right. I’m being impatient. Please tell me I can make it up to you.”
I walk over and place my hands gently on her shoulders, turning her around to face me. I’m relieved, and excited, to see a familiar glint return to her eyes.
She smirks at me.
“If you wanna prove you’re not like the rest of your mega-rich friends, then prove to me you can hold your own with people who earn minimum wage.”
“And how can I do that?”
Rose bites her lips slightly as she chuckles.
“Oh, don’t worry. I have an idea. Hope you like Mexican food.”
Good thing for me that I do.
8
Rose
The afternoon passes in a blur of property and land visits that I know full well I have no intention of selling to Erik. His comment from earlier is still lurking in the back of my mind, making me feel bad for turning his words against him and making him feel guilty.
But, at the end of the day, he is just another one of my billionaire clients. He still wants all this property for capitalistic purposes. No matter how attractive I think he is, or how well we get on, he’s still a businessman.
Our worlds are bound to separate the second Oberon Lawson has finalized his property buy-outs. Until then…
I’m going to fucking enjoy my time with Erik Storm. And maybe take him out of his comfort zone just to see what he’ll do.
After the way I felt in Dakota’s, it would serve him right. Let him be the fish out of water—while also discovering that nobody has as good a time as the Verona Falls locals.
I deliberately make Erik miss lunch with me, so, by five in the afternoon, we’re both positively starving. We stop by my place first—I don’t want to go out in my work clothes, after all. Luckily, Erik is dressed perfectly for a night with the locals.
Well…his casual clothes probably cost more than what I pay every month in rent, but you get the picture. It’s as if the universe is begging me to take him to Chimi’s tonight—every other day I’ve worked with Erik, he’s worn a full, designer suit.
Erik looks a little put out when I tell him to wait outside.
“Why can’t I come into your apartment? Is it horrendously untidy? Are you secretly a slob? Do you have a dead body hidden in your bathtub?”
I laugh the accusations off.
“You honestly believe I can afford an apartment with the space for a bathtub in the Hamptons? Don’t make
me laugh. And, no, my place is pretty damn clean. I just want to retain some air of mystery.”
I flounce off and leave Erik laughing at my words. In reality, my apartment is spotless—I just don’t want him in my place when I know I’ll likely never see him again in a few days.
I hurry out of my work clothes and take off my bra, choosing to wear a backless, forest green dress that I know looks amazing against my tanned skin. My mother would go mental if she saw me wearing something as risqué as this—but then again, she’d have gone mad if she had seen the sheer, black dress I wore to yesterday’s failed wedding reception.
I let my hair down and shake my head as I run my fingers through the curls, content to leave it wild and natural for the night. I finish the look off with some lipstick and a pair of nude-and-wicker wedges that give me legs for days.
I know I look great. It excites me to think of Erik’s reaction when I step out the door.
In reality, it takes me under five minutes to get ready; Erik looks surprised when I step back outside so quickly. I do a quick spin so that he can see the obvious absence of any material covering my back…and smirk when I see the way he looks at me.
“You sure we have to go out in public, Rose?” he asks, only half-joking.
I swat his arm.
“You’re not getting out of this so easily. Come on, Chimi’s is only five minutes from here on foot. The food’s amazing, I swear.”
“Adding ‘I swear’ to the end of that sentence doesn’t fill me with much confidence.”
I can’t wait for Erik to be proven wrong.
Chimi’s is a tiny little bar and restaurant that sits in a large, cobblestone square strung up with lights. What it lacks in indoor seating, it more than makes up for in outdoor seating. The square is transformed with live music and dancing most nights, but since it’s only just gone five, the place isn’t as bustling as I know it will be later.
A lone guitarist fills the air with his mindless, tuneful music as I sit Erik down at my usual outdoor table and hand him a menu before ultimately pulling it out of his hands.
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to order without a menu, Rose.”
I grin, then wave over the bar’s owner, Miguel.
“Rose, Rose, it’s been a while!” Miguel exclaims when he bounds over. Then he notices Erik. “Who is your rich friend?”
“Is it obvious that I’m wealthy?” Erik asks, somewhat taken aback. Both Miguel and I give him a measured look, to which Erik shakes his head and laughs. “Okay, I get it. No need to look at me like that.”
I smile for Miguel.
“He’s a client and a friend. I’m showing him how to really have fun in Verona Falls. But because he’s so super-rich, consider everyone’s bar tabs paid for the night. And we’ll have everything on the menu. And some tequila, please.”
Miguel looks from me to Erik, who shrugs his shoulders.
“Do as the lady says,” he remarks somewhat resignedly. When Miguel heads into the bar, clearly very happy that he’s going to be making quite a bit more tonight than usual, Erik adds: “This better be worth it, Clark.”
“Oh, trust me, you won’t be wasting a cent.”
I am beyond satisfied when our food comes out, dish by dish by dish—served on small plates so that Erik and I can sample everything without stuffing ourselves by the third dish—and I see Erik’s eyes glaze over in happiness. We wash everything down with tequila and margaritas, so by the time we’re done eating, we’re both more than a little tipsy.
“Rose, that food was fucking outstanding. I don’t suppose we could order more of—what was the fourth dish?”
“Tostadas,” I reply as I wave a waiter over to order some. The bar, as well as the square, has grown busier and busier as the sun slowly sets; Miguel is now permanently stuck behind the bar serving drinks.
Every so often, I notice him informing the locals that their drinks are paid for, pointing over to Erik in explanation when the customer asks why.
After a while, several of the locals wander over and join us.
“Who is this, Rose?”
“Anyone buying us booze is a friend!”
“Has he had any Mezcal yet?”
“Going by the look on papi’s face, I doubt it!”
They subsequently order a round of the stuff as I laugh, and Erik looks more and more confused.
“What—is that a worm in the glass?!”
I nod my head as I struggle to keep in my laughter; before Erik can protest, we all chime our shots together and knock them back. I’ve done enough of them that the worm doesn’t bother me, but Erik looks horrified.
“Can’t believe you actually did it, papi.”
“I think I’ll stick with tequila for the rest of the evening,” Erik remarks, though he’s grinning.
Thank God—he’s clearly having a good time.
Having Erik pay for everyone’s drinks turns out to be a great idea. More and more people join us to laugh and talk and drink and, before I know it, we’re thrown out into the square to dance along with everyone to the band playing. The music is all very much grounded in its Latin roots—sensual and rhythmic and infectious.
“You seem to be enjoying yourself,” I murmur into Erik’s ear. We’re close—very close; dancing to this kind of music demands it. Erik’s hands are on my hips, with my arms around his neck and my body pressed against his, as if we’re trying to make as much physical contact as possible.
“This place certainly makes for a far more interesting night than Dakota’s.”
I look at him, surprised. Clearly, my instinct had been right—it wasn’t Erik’s scene at all.
“Why did you take me there if you don’t like it?”
He runs a hand through his hair, somewhat abashed.
“Would you laugh if I said I was trying to impress you? By taking you to some place you likely weren’t able to go to on a regular basis.”
“While I appreciate the sentiment, you know that if you had just told me you weren’t a fan, I would have happily agreed to go someplace much less…on the beach-front.”
Erik’s hands rove down the bare skin of my back; he smirks when he feels me shiver at his touch.
“Had I known that this was where you’d have suggested, I’d have never even thought of taking you any place else.”
“You like Chimi’s, then?”
Erik’s pale blue eyes have taken on the color of the twilight—dark purples and blues and blood reds, with the lights strung up in the trees twinkling in his irises. They look unreal. They’re possibly the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.
“Rose, I love it here. The food, the drink, the people—especially the people. Everyone’s so…genuine. And happy. I could do without the worm in my stomach, though.”
I laugh, then rest my head against his chest as we sway to the music.
“This is my home, Erik. It’s the home of so many people. I can’t stand how much of the Hamptons has been bought up and transformed into another playground for the rich and famous. Do you know how much we struggle to afford living once fall hits? When all of your friends retreat abroad for your sun and sea and sand and overpriced champagne?”
I look up and see the most complicated expression on Erik’s face—I have no idea what it means.
“And yet, you’re all still happy, despite that.”
“That’s because we have each other, and we have our health. We have good food and drink and music. All we want is to be safe in the knowledge that our homes won’t be torn away from us. Our whole community will be destroyed, and it will mean little, and less, to the billionaire buying up the land.”
Saying the words, I realize how true they are. And, yet, here I am—being a hypocrite by brokering Oberon Lawson’s deal. But Verona Falls is doomed; our community is going to be destroyed, whether I like it or not. I have an obligation to get as much out of it as I can for my family.
“Rose.”
I look at Erik. He smiles gently.
“What is it?”
“Let’s go for a walk. I have something to tell you.”
9
Erik
Maybe it’s because I’m on the good side of drunk. Maybe it’s because I’ve just experienced one of the most authentically welcoming and enjoyable evenings of my life. Maybe it’s because of Rosa’s impassioned words.
Maybe it’s all of the above.
Regardless of the reason, as Rose and I walk side by side towards a deserted corner of the beach-front, I decide that—this time—I’m definitely going to tell her why I want to buy up the land in Verona Falls.
That worm in my stomach wriggles with nerves or excitement—I can’t tell which. Perhaps it’s both. Probably both.
I haven’t opened up about my real intentions to anyone for a long time; being an only child whose parents have passed away doesn’t help. Until meeting Rose and the locals of Verona Falls, the people I had met and associated with who were interested in more than just my money, status, or appearance were few and far between.
Rose keeps looking at me curiously. I haven’t given her any explanation or clarification about what I need to tell her, but she’s sensible enough to patiently wait for me to start the conversation.
To be honest, the silence is pleasant and comfortable. I’m realizing with every passing day that I can actually be myself with Rosa—and after spending an evening in her world, I can confidently say that Rose can be herself with me. More than that, I’ve found her way of living more compatible with me than my own life back in New York.
But I know it has to come to an end eventually. At the end of the day, I’m still only here for business. The best I can hope for is to stay on good terms with Rosa, and perhaps, whenever I return to the Hamptons throughout the year, she will be willing to meet with me, in whatever capacity suits her.
I have to accept the idea that Rose may want nothing more to do with me, however. I’m still going to leave. I’m still a billionaire with work to do across the globe.
But tonight—at least tonight—I can be more than that. I can show her that I’m different.