by Kelli Walker
“It’s much more luxurious than the manicure we just got. Trust me,” Callie said.
“How did you talk me into this again?”
“With my lips and my legs.”
“And you have a very nice pair of them, Miss Roper.”
My feet sat in a bubbling tub of water as my eyes grazed over Callie’s form. She looked relaxed. Distracted. Which was exactly what I wanted for her. The man at my feet plucked them from the water and began doing all sorts of things to them that should never happen to feet. A cheese grater running across my calluses. Some sort of salve that burned a little more than it needed to. More grating of the calluses before some loofah sponge was raked along the bottoms of my feet.
What the hell was that man doing down there?
“Have you never had a pedicure before?” Callie asked.
“I didn’t realize I gave off the impression that I’d ever gotten one,” I said.
“Then we better make sure to tip well. Because that poor man is working those feet of yours.”
I glared at Callie as a giggle fell from her lips.
After the manicure and pedicure that left my hands and feet feeling oddly cold in the air surrounding us, we made our way for the couple’s massage. In reality, that was what did it for me. The suggestion of us being naked together in a room while being rubbed down. The two of us undressed and it took everything I had in my body not to pin her against the violet walls and take what I wanted from her.
But when I saw she had a male masseuse, my muscles tensed.
“Keep those hands where I can see them,” I said.
“Colton, stop being crazy.”
I kept my eye on that man the entire time, however. Making sure his hands didn’t venture anywhere they weren’t supposed to go.
After the two-hour long massage--and a lot of moaning from Callie’s end of the room--she made her way towards her hair appointment. And myself? Well, I went and sat in the steam room. Which was necessary, given the massive erection I had after hearing her moan and groan for two fucking hours. Just the sound of her made my body weak. Her voice struck a match at the tip of my dick. I wrapped a towel around my lower half and leaned back in a rounded marble chair, hollowed out against the wall specifically to enjoy the soothing steam bath.
I closed my eyes for a minute, allowing my body to relax. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind of a nightmare, and I was glad I could provide Callie with a distraction. I wondered how Clay was handling things, especially given the taboo nature of it all. Even though I kept Callie away from the news, I was checking up on it frequently on my phone. Every time she slipped to the bathroom or wandered into the bedroom without me, I pulled out my phone and looked. And every fucking time I opened up my internet search, there was another picture of him with another woman.
It only served to fuel the hate-fire I had raging for that little boy.
The steam sauna came to an end and I went in search of Callie. With the towel around my waist and a robe around the rest of my body, I ducked my head in and found her slipping into the mud bath. Her naked body sank into the bubbling, murky substance, and I itched to get in with her. I checked in before asking the desk attendant to close of the mud bath to any other patrons, then I slipped in naked alongside Callie.
“Care for some company?” I asked.
She squealed before wrapping her arms around me, and I felt her press her breasts against my chest. We sank into the hot mud, allowing it to coat our bodies and cleanse us of whatever it proposed to rid us from. I didn’t care. It could have had no effect on us, and I still wouldn’t have cared. The only thing that mattered to me as sitting right there in my arms, looking back at me with a pair of amber eyes I lost myself in every time I looked at her.
“Have you given any more thought to your business?” I asked.
“I’ve been a little busy,” Callie said, grinning.
“Well, we aren’t busy now.”
“I mean, there’s nothing too important off the top of my head that I can think about.”
“Doesn’t matter if it’s important or not. I haven’t heard you talking about it lately. I don’t want it to fall to the wayside.”
“It’s not going to matter if Matthew gets his way.”
I crooked my finger underneath her chin and tilted her gaze up to mine.
“He won’t. I promise you that,” I said.
“How can you be so sure?”
“I have my ways.”
She sighed, then moved off my lap and settled into the crook of my arm.
“Well, the best prices of buildings to purchase aren’t quite where I want to be. It’s more on the outskirts of the city than in the heart of it.”
“What’s your reasoning for wanting to be in the middle of it all?” I asked.
“I want to be a household name. Not, like, Betty Crocker or something. But when someone walks into my office, I want them to feel like they’re at home.”
“Why does the heart of the city do that for you, then? Why does it give you that homey feeling?”
“Because it’s where I did most of my growing up.”
“That doesn’t mean it screams ‘home’ for everyone. You’re doing this for your clients, remember? You don’t need your home, you need their home.”
Callie rested her head on my shoulder before a heavy sigh left her lips.
“The outskirts of the city still don’t seem like the ‘homey’ feel I’m going for,” she said.
“Then keep looking. You’ll know it when you come across it. The important thing is to set a budget before you start looking. Have you done that yet?”
“I have.”
“Good. No use in looking at buildings you can’t afford.”
“Speaking of buildings, how is the acquisition of the new headquarters coming along?” she asked.
“Just waiting for the payment to be finalized, and then our international headquarters in Switzerland will be ours to renovate and fill with people to help.”
“Sounds like a trip to the Alps is in order.”
“I think someone just wants to go skiing,” I said, grinning.
“No use in spending a day or so doing something you enjoy in the middle of work.”
I kissed the top of her head as a chuckle fell from my lips.
“Once we get this place up and running, Clay and I will be doing a lot more traveling for work. Me, especially. Since I technically head up the international marketplace department of our business.”
“But you’ve always enjoyed the traveling.”
“I do. I always will. Though the international landscape is changing quickly. My trips now might take me out there for weeks at a time,” I said.
“Dad always said ‘real estate is a contact sport’. He said it’s not just about reaching out to clients and making connections, it’s about running into the walls real estate affords and figuring out a way to scale them.”
“Didn’t know you were listening to his ramblings about work for all those years.”
“If the landscape internationally is changing from buying up and selling over property for a turnover price, then why don’t you look into owning properties already built?”
I craned my neck down and watched as her eyes came up to meet mine.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Well, you and Dad specialize in buying up property that hasn’t been developed and selling it for a flat price. Right?”
“We do.”
“Why do you have to do that with the international marketplace as well? From what I’ve heard Dad say over the years, the long-term money is in rental properties. Development. You guys have already conquered the national side of land acquisition. Why not do something totally different with this other side?”
I narrowed my eyes at her as a small grin curled my lips.
“Go big or go home, right?” she asked.
“Seems like your mother wasn’t the only one with bright ideas for our business,” I sa
id.
Callie nestled her head underneath my cheek and I held her close by her waist. I knew she was smart, but her intelligence was far beyond anything I could have comprehended. And her gumption. Her confidence to speak up on something that wasn’t her arena simply because she had listened over the years. That took guts. Spunk. It took a strength I’d only ever seen one other woman possess.
Cathy Roper was alive and well in the soul of her daughter.
“Come on. Our facials are waiting for us,” I said.
“Mmm, can we skip it and go have dinner?” she asked.
“The facial is only an hour long. Come on. Let’s wash off from this mud bath, treat ourselves to one last hour of relaxation, then you can order whatever you want for dinner.”
“Oh, you’ll definitely regret saying that.”
But the truth was, I could never regret anything I told her. Or did for her. No matter what. The two of us slid out of the mud bath and ventured into the showers. And even though I wasn’t supposed to get in with her, I did anyway. I watched the mud run down her body, revealing to me the beautiful skin underneath. I took great care in washing her down. In running my hands over every curve and crevice to make sure she was squeaky clean.
What did it matter if I had to cover her mouth with my hand to keep her quiet?
The facial was phenomenal. Holding her hand on the ride back up to our penthouse suite was wonderful. Even feeding her dinner, complete with strawberries and freshly-whipped cream was outstanding. The perfect way to end her first-ever full-on spa day.
And if she let me, I could do every day like this with her for the rest of my life.
Callie - One Week Later
My week with Colton was incredible. We had two separate spa days, filled with all sorts of things I never imagined people would actually do to their bodies. I sifted through the clothes he had brought up to the room and picked out a few new outfits. I even sat down with Colt and searched through a few business properties I’d had my eye on so I could jot down his professional thoughts on the building and the location, given his expertise in the matter. We had movies and television shows at our disposal. Wonderful food coming up from the kitchen. We spent our nights soaking in the hot tub while watching the sunset over the beach, and we shared a passion every night that reminded me exactly how strong and beautiful and sensual I really was deep down.
But waking up in Colt’s arms topped the cake.
I gazed out the window, my small suitcase leaning against my leg. Colt had it ordered and delivered to my room so I could take my new clothes home with me. But I didn’t want to go home. I didn’t want to walk back into the drama with Matthew. I didn’t want to face my father’s anger and the slaughtering of my reputation and the unknowns that dotted my future because of some raging angry ex-fiance.
I wanted to stay with Colt in this beautiful bubble we had created for ourselves.
I didn’t want it to end.
“You ready, Callie?”
His voice pierced my thoughts and brought tears to my eyes. I shook my head ‘no’, fearful that if I spoke, the tears would fall. I wasn’t ready for this. I wasn’t ready to leave. The real world didn’t exist, so long as we stayed cooped up together. And in some ways, I hated that part of my personality. I’d always prided myself in my ability to go out here, bust through walls, and break down doors to get what I needed. I knew, in the back of my mind, I couldn't let Matthew shut me out. I couldn’t let him get the upper hand.
But, it also didn’t feel like that.
I felt Colt’s hands come down onto my shoulders and I quickly brushed away my tears. I wanted like to continue this way. I wanted to keep waking up in his arms and sharing breakfast with him. I wanted to keep making memories with him and talking through the future of our businesses together. Well, the business I wanted to create, anyway. It wasn’t just the luxuriousness of it all. It wasn’t just what he could spoil me with. It was the shared mindset. The innate ability to be myself with him. It was the trust and the conversations that came because of that trust.
It was the passion he filled my body with at night, rocking against me until I wanted to cry out and pass out at the same time.
“I know you don’t want to, but we need to get going,” he said.
“It’s just a beautiful view. I want to cherish it a second longer.”
He threaded his arms around my waist and I leaned my head against his chest. He knew I was lying. And I knew he knew. But, he didn’t push, and I was thankful for that. I was thankful for so many things when it came to him. His strength. His level-headed nature. His fierce protection of me. His connection that he used to always read what I needed at the most opportune times. I drew in a deep breath before I reached down for my suitcase, but Colt swooped it up before I could grab it. His hand fell to the small of my back as I looked up at him, finding him staring down at me with a stern look on his face.
“I’m here every step of the way,” he said.
And his words gave me the strength I needed to put one foot in front of the other.
We checked out of the hotel and got into his car, then headed back to the house. And as each mile passed us by, my shoulders grew heavier with fear. I had no idea what was waiting for me once we got home. Was my father still angry? Would Matthew be there? Did the lawyer have any news for us? Had my reputation gone up in smoke?
I walked through a fog as dense as the hurt in my soul, and didn’t come out of it until I felt Colt’s hand slide over my knee underneath the dining room table.
“Miss Roper?”
“Callie.”
“Sweetheart?”
I snapped out of my trance and found myself face-to-face with Mr. Clemmons.
“I’m sorry. It’s been an interesting summer. Did you say something?” I asked.
“Mr. Clemmons asked you how up to date you are on the court case,” my father said.
“She hasn’t heard the most recent news,” Colt said.
“I haven’t been updated on anything since the beginning of the week, Mr. Clemmons.”
“Then, allow me to catch you up,” the lawyer said.
“That won’t be necessary,” my father said.
“Yes, it is,” I said curtly.
I flashed him a look as Colt gripped my knee a little tighter. I reached down and shoved his hand away, no longer wanting to deal with his touch. He kept his promise. He kept me in the dark so my father could clean up some sort of mess. But this was my life and there was no reason for any other secrets to be kept.
“Why are you here, Mr. Clemmons? And feel free to answer as thoroughly as possible,” I said.
His eyes darted between Colt’s and my father’s before I cleared my throat.
“This is my lawsuit. You don’t need their permission,” I said.
“Very well,” he sighed. “Throughout the course of the week, more pictures of Mr. Jennings with other women surfaced on the internet. Needless to say, the press had a field day with it.”
“Where there’s one dead rat,” I said.
“There’s several alive, yes. With that being said, I took the liberty of identifying the women in the pictures and hiring a private investigator to backtrack their whereabouts with a private investigator. With the help of a very trusted friend, we were able to track down Mr. Jennings’ bank records and match up some of the purchases on the document you were served with to those timelines.”
“With the other women,” I said.
“Exactly.”
It should have shocked me. I should have been distraught. But I didn’t feel that way at all. There was no shock. There was no anger. There was no sadness. There was only a numbness that trickled throughout my body.
I wasn't sure if that was a good thing.
“One of the things I found that busted this case wide open was one of the pictures that surfaced at the beginning of the week. I’ll spare you the details on her as well as the contents of the picture, but it turns out that a few pictures of the
m were taken during a trip to London.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Was it a trip to London that was taken five months ago?”
“Yes. It was. How did you know that?” Mr. Clemmons asked.
A wry sliver of laughter fell from my lips as I shook my head.
“He asked me to go to London with him and I had to decline. I had the flu.”
“You were sick?” my father asked.
“You didn’t tell me you were sick,” Colt said.
I closed my eyes and shook my head. Again, I should have been hurt. But that numbness quickly gave way to anger. Not the type of anger from a broken heart, but the type of anger that comes with the betrayal of trust. The kind that ruins relationships and tears friendships apart. The kind that seeps into the bones of families and dissolves connections in an instant.
How could I have been so stupid?
“The good thing about this is that it casts doubt. If one of these girls was taken on a vacation he’s attributed to you in these documents, who’s to say that any of these vacations are charges you’re responsible for? It casts reasonable doubt, and with that doubt came a reduction in the money Mr. Jennings is asking for,” Clemmons said.
“By how much?” I sighed.
“About eighty percent. Out of those eighty percent, I can prove with bank transactions and those pictures floating around that you were nowhere near seventy percent of those transactions. The other thirty percent uses the idea of reasonable doubt to get them scratched off the list.”
“Because the judge won’t be able to tell if it was me or the other woman he was spending his trust fund on,” I spat.
“I filed an emergency countersuit three days ago with all of this information in play. And when I heard back from Mr. Jennings’ lawyer, they accepted the downgrade.”
“Fifty eight thousand?”
I opened my eyes and found all three men staring at me with a mixture of shock and curiosity in their eyes.
“Very close, Miss Roper. Fifty five thousand,” Clemmons said.
“Yep. That’s about eighty percent of the original seven hundred thousand,” I said.
“It’s a massive feat, Miss Roper. A big win, if you ask me.”