Page 7 of Fake it for Keeps

3

COLT

There she was. My mystery woman. She sat stiffly with her date, her back straight, her chin lifted, her face cast into shadow by her hair hanging over her shoulder.

“Good evening,” I said into the microphone, my voice carrying across the ballroom. At the sound, she looked up, her face and dark eyes catching the light. We locked eyes, and I gave her a reckless smile that was just for her. Fuck John. “Thank you all for being here tonight.”

Polite applause rippled through the crowd. I scanned the faces staring back at me. Investors, clients, journalists, socialites, and Hallie. She was the only person in the entire room who didn’t clap. Beside her, John nudged her, and she brought her hands up and clapped, her lips pressing into a line.

Was she no longer a fan? And why in the world was a woman like her wasting time on a man like that?

He could do nothing for her. Not like I could. I knew I could make her body tremble. Make her scream in ecstasy and forget all her problems.

Our eyes locked, and I felt that same electric pull I’d experienced on the dance floor. She looked like she wanted to sink into her chair and disappear, but she couldn’t seem to look away from me either.

Good. Let her squirm.

“One year ago,” I continued, forcing my attention back to the speech I was supposed to be giving, “I inherited something precious. My father’s legacy. Valenteen has been the gold standard in jewelry design for over forty years, representing love, commitment, and forever.”

I paused, letting the words settle over the room. My father had always been better at this part, the sentimentality, the emotional connection. I preferred the business side of things. The numbers. The strategy.

“My father was a visionary,” I said, my voice roughening slightly despite my best efforts. I loved my father. And I fucking missed him. I cleared my throat and embraced the cold side of me. The guy that could shut off the feelings. “He built this company from nothing, and he did it with integrity, passion, and an unwavering commitment to excellence. I’m proud to follow in his footsteps, and I’m honored to carry his legacy forward.”

More applause. I could see some of Dad’s old friends nodding, their expressions softening. Good. I needed them on my side if I was going to make this work.

“But here’s the thing,” I continued, leaning into the microphone with a grin. “My father isn’t running the show anymore. I am. And while I respect tradition, I also believe in evolution. In taking risks. In giving people something they didn’t even know they wanted.”

A few murmurs rippled through the crowd. I had their attention now.

“Valentine’s Day is right around the corner, and it’s our busiest season. And this year, Valenteen is going to offer something different. Something bold. We’re not just selling rings anymore. We’re selling experiences. Stories. The beginning of forever.” I paused for effect. “Because that’s what we do. We don’t just create jewelry. We create moments that last a lifetime.”

That part was a nod to my old man.

The applause that followed was enthusiastic. I could see Frankie at the edge of the stage, giving me a subtle thumbs-up.

I wrapped up the speech with a few more platitudes about innovation and excellence, then stepped off the stage to shake hands with the investors who’d already started swarming. They all wanted a piece of me, a promise that their money was in good hands and that I wouldn’t tank the company my father had spent his life building.

“Great speech, Colt,” one of them said, clapping me on the shoulder.

“Really inspiring,” another added. “Your father would be proud.”

I smiled and nodded and said all the right things, but my mind was elsewhere. Specifically, on the mystery woman who’d somehow managed to get under my skin in the span of a single dance.

As soon as I could escape, I made my way to the restroom, needing a moment to collect myself. I grabbed one of the washcloths and wiped my face. The coolness cleared my mind a little.

I was washing my hands when the door opened and the same guy from earlier walked in. The man that had no business being with a woman as beautiful as Hallie.

He looked irritated, his face flushed from too much whiskey.

“Rough night?” I asked, drying my hands.

He glanced at me, recognition flickering across his features. “You could say that.”

“Date not going well?”

“Date?” He laughed bitterly. “That’s one way to put it. More like a waste of money.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”