by Dani Rene
Colton King is not a man — he’s sculpted perfection.
He’s over six feet, easily, and I have to tip my head back to look at him. His eyes are luminous in this dim light, and the corner of his mouth kicks up for a moment as he offers me his hand.
“Nice to meet you.” He grins, his accent thick, a smirk curling his lips, and heat emanates from him, making every inch of my body spark with unmentionable need.
“Hi,” is all I can muster as he takes my hand in his, engulfing it. He steps closer, and the hint of his cologne—masculine and spicy—hits my nostrils, and it takes all my restraint not to moan out loud.
Get a grip, I admonish myself. This is ridiculous. I can’t believe my reaction to him. I’ve never been one of those fangirls who gush over celebrities, but there’s something about Colton that makes me turn to nothing more than a puddle at his feet.
“I hear you’re doing the interview then?” he asks, the lilt in his voice, making the words sound exotic to the ear.
“Yes.” I smile, finding my voice. “I look forward to getting to know Colton King much better.” What the hell, Violet?
“You can get to know me all you like, sweetheart.” He chuckles, and I can’t tear my gaze away. He’s more handsome in real life than he is on screen. I cannot believe I just said it in that way. I’ve always prided myself on being professional, and that most definitely wasn’t. My cheeks burn with embarrassment at my stupidity.
Why am I acting like a teenage girl?
He smiles, stepping back, and I can finally breathe without him invading every inch of my personal space. To be honest, I didn’t mind it, not at all. And that’s where the problem lies.
5
Colton
I didn’t expect her to be so … stunning, alluring. Her dress hugs every curve of her hourglass figure, and the way she smiles catches my attention and holds it for a long moment. Probably too long because she turns away, lowering her gaze to the floor.
“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” I tell her. I’m not sure why the fuck I’m apologizing, but I can’t stop myself. The words are out of my mouth before I have time to rethink them.
“Colton.” The blonde from my escapades last night—who I learned is called Tyra—comes floating back over to me, and suddenly, her presence annoys me. “Are you coming to dance?”
“In a few moments,” I tell her, not even bothering to offer her a glance because my attention is locked on the beauty before me. “What’s your name?”
“Violet,” she mumbles after a long while. Tyra sighs from beside me but thankfully disappears without more of a fight.
“Colton.” Blythe butts in, handing me my beer. “I just got off the phone with the Brazen line. They want you in the studio on Monday at five. Early shoot to catch the sunrise.”
“God,” I mutter in frustration. That’s one of the things I hate about my job, the early mornings. “I’ll be there, bright and fucking early.”
“I know you will because they’re the ones paying for your fancy apartment.” She laughs for the first time tonight. I’ve learned that Blythe is one of those women who are fiercely independent, yet they enjoy attention when it’s afforded.
I turn to Violet, who smells so good, reminding me of my mother’s infamous apple crumble with cinnamon on top. “Would you like to come to the shoot?”
Her pretty eyes widen in shock. She didn’t expect me to invite her to the shoot. But for some unknown reason, I want her there.
“I-I can’t. Work.” She waves her hand as if that’s a legitimate excuse. Perhaps it is. After all, it is on a Monday. Maybe I can get her to go out with me, for drinks, or something.
“Shit,” Blythe hisses, breaking the connection between Violet and me. “I need to go see someone. Stay here and stay away from those…” She waves her hand toward the dance floor, and I know who she means. I can’t help but chuckle at her as she disappears, leaving me with Violet.
“So,” I start, gesturing to the chair. “You’re a journalist?”
“Uhm ... Yes, I am. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do,” she relates, but there’s a hint of unsurety in her tone. “Sorry, I mean, I didn’t want to bore you. I think your friends are trying to wave you down.”
I glance at the dance floor where she’s pointing, and sure enough, Tyra is swinging her hips suggestively as she crooks her finger toward me.
Fuck sake.
I wave her off, trying to mouth that I’m busy, hoping she gets the hint and leaves me alone, just for a moment longer. I turn back to Violet and smile. “They’ll survive without me.”
“I’m not so sure. I think you were practically holding her up at one point,” she retorts hotly, and if I’m not mistaken, a hint of jealousy peeks through her rather quiet demeanor. “Not that I care. I mean, I’m just saying.”
I laugh out loud, taking in her flustering lips and those bright-red cheeks. Even in the dim light, I can tell she’s shy, embarrassed by her comments.
“If you can’t make the shoot, then let me take you out?” My question has the opposite effect on her, though. I thought she’d be excited by the prospect of a date, but instead, she shoots me a glare.
“Look, Colton, your flirtatious behavior may work with those girls,” she snaps, gesturing once more to the dance floor, “but I’m not them. I’m not someone’s notch on a bedpost.”
“I never said you were.”
“No, but a date, or dinner, or anything like that will only lead to something that will put my job at risk.” She folds her arms across her chest, which only makes the soft silk shift, and her cleavage peeks at me, taunting me.
“I didn’t mean to offend you,” I tell her earnestly. “I’m rather taken with you.” I don’t know why I’m being so honest with her, or why I am taken with her, but something about the fire in her eyes has me wanting to delve deeper.
“Taken with me?” she snarks. “This would never work, whatever this is because I’m not the girl you take out on dates.” When she notices my furrowed brows, she continues, “You take girls like them on dates, or whatever it is. And your reputation precedes you, Colton King—you’re a one-night type of man, and that’s not what I’m prepared to allow myself to fall into.”
She finally stops her tirade, which only makes her more attractive to me. Violet may think she’s getting away from me, but there’s something she doesn’t realize—I always get the girl I want. Whether it’s on the night, or a week, or month later.
“Listen.” I step another inch closer to her, feeling her heat and inhaling her fragrance. This close, the music in the background melts away, the voices and chattering of people disappear, and I’m left with just her. Nothing else matters but tasting her lips, right the fuck now.
I lean into her, my lips nearing hers, and I’m so close I can almost taste her. What I’m not expecting is her hand landing harshly across my face. This girl has fire, I’ll give her that. Granted, I have been slapped a few times before, but that was the morning after, not the night before.
“If you ever try to kiss me again,” Violet whispers, low and feral, and I’m so tempted to see if this kitty scratches. “I’ll knee you right in the junk you like to use so often.”
Her words have me laughing out loud. I’ve never in my life been turned down by a woman, and I’ve also never met someone with so much fire it blazes through her.
I’m about to respond when she turns on her heel and makes to leave the VIP balcony, but before she disappears, she glances over her shoulder to inform me, “I’ll set up a meeting with Blythe for Monday morning. I’d like to get the interview over and done with.”
And then she’s gone.
But she doesn’t realize I’m not giving up that easily.
I will have a taste of Violet, and she’ll be begging me for it.
6
Violet
By the time I reach the bar, I’m shaking and need a drink. The bartender glances my way and smiles. I order a shot of tequila, an
d when he brings it, I swallow it in one gulp and ask for one more.
Blythe finds me on my second shot and watches me through narrowed eyes. “You’re different from what I thought.” Her voice is almost drowned out by the music, but I hear her.
“Why?”
“You’re not a fangirl,” she attests. “I like it. No woman has ever refused Colton, and I think his ego has taken a hit.”
“His ego can be shoved up his ass. I’m here to do my job,” I bite out, the alcohol having it’s intended effect, and I’m warm all over. I glance at Blythe, her cool blue eyes burning right through me as she regards me with a smile.
“I like it. Stay, have a few more drinks. Don’t let him chase you off.” She taps me on the shoulder. “You’re welcome to sit in VIP with us. Drinks are delivered.”
She leaves me at the bar to consider her offer. Even though I wanted to leave, I decide she’s right. He can’t chase me off, though that’s not exactly what he did. Instead, he wanted to take me out.
Frustration blooms in my stomach, and I call for one more shot. Once I’ve gulped it down with a wince, I head onto the dance floor and close my eyes. The music holds me close, wrapping its beat around me, and pulling me this way and that.
I focus on my own movements, ignoring the crowd around me. I feel warmth at my back. I continue to move, ignoring whoever the hell it is trying to dance with me.
I’m lost to the rhythm when large hands land on my hips and whoever he is sways with me. A smile tilts on my lips at the way he holds me almost possessively.
The song changes and I spin around coming face-to-face with Colton watching me with a satisfied smirk on his perfect mouth. I step back, bumping into someone, and he pulls me closer, out of the way of everyone else. We’re inches apart. I can feel his breath, and I know he can feel mine.
I should move.
I want to move.
But I also don’t want to move.
“You have an attractive body,” he coos in my ear, sending goosebumps skittering across my skin. His breath fans over my cheek as he moves my hair out of the way, and I feel his lips brushing along the curve of my shoulder.
“Why are you doing this?” I whimper, my resolve being broken down brick by brick. I blame tequila. It’s been the bane of my existence since I learned to drink at twenty-one.
“Because I want you.” Even though his words feel sincere, I can’t allow myself to fall for it. I’ve heard promises before. They were all empty. I’ve also heard confessions and admissions from men, but I never allowed myself to be swept away.
Fairy tales are just that—made-up fiction. It’s not real life, and a girl like me doesn’t end up with a guy like Colton King. My palms land on his chest, and I feel every ridge and peak of his muscles. I push slightly. He allows me to step away.
His eyes, those strange teal orbs that seem endless, sparkle under the blue and purple lights. He watches me so intently that I feel it right down to my core. I don’t want to admit it, but he does affect me, far too much for me to be comfortable with him this close.
“I have to go,” I tell him quickly and race out of the club, ignoring him calling after me. When I reach the door, I step out into the cool night air and take a long, deep breath.
The breeze picks up my hair, whipping it around my face, and the coolness hits my heated skin, causing me to shiver. On the sidewalk, I flag down a cab and slip into the backseat.
When I glance back at the club, I see him at the door, watching me run away like goddamned Cinderella leaving the ball before midnight. Only I didn’t lose a shoe, because Colton knows where I work, and I’ll be seeing him again.
I’m not sure I’m ready for that. But I’ll do anything for my job—even sit in an interview with a man who steals my breath and heats my body like never before and try to ignore his flirtatious behavior.
Once I step through the door of my apartment, I sigh loudly, speaking to the empty room, “Why does he have to be so …” I shake my head, unsure of what I think he is. Beautiful? Perfect? Handsome? Brazen? The name of the underwear line suits him perfectly. I bet when he walks out of that nightclub this evening, he’ll have at least three women on his arms.
Jealousy niggles at my stomach, twisting it into a green-eyed monster. But I shove it down as I toe-off my shoes and make my way into the kitchen to grab a glass. Filling it with wine, I take a seat at my laptop to find a response from Ida.
Dear Crazy in Brooklyn,
It sounds to me like you need to focus on your job and know that you’re capable of anything. I’m guessing this is a dream job. If so, I would tell you to calm the hell down and take a long, deep breath. Then I’d allow you to have one drink. Anything more will only lead to chaos and bad decisions.
What I would also tell you is that you are in charge of your own destiny. And if this does change your career drastically, focus on that end goal, the promotion, the life-changing path on which you’re headed.
And also, if this in any way includes a man as a distraction—don’t get lured in. If he’s worth it, he’ll be there in the end.
How the hell would she know it involved a man? One that I can’t get out of my head, and one who's most certainly going to hang around until god knows when.
After his overconfident actions tonight, I find myself trying to dissect every word, every touch, and every smile. I drive myself crazy until I yawn, realizing it’s almost one in the morning, and the bottle of wine I had chilling in the fridge for a whole week is now empty.
Besides going through old submissions on the "Ask Ida" website, I spent even more time looking up Colton King. Stupidly, I thought about going onto Facebook, which was a rabbit hole I fell down looking at photos of him, his family, and even some of the events he attended in London, Paris, and Rome.
He’s good at his job. Being that gorgeous comes with a lot of perks, but I’m sure it also comes with its fair share of frustrations. One being early mornings, which I noticed him wince at when Blythe told him to be there at five on Monday morning.
When I finally shut my laptop lid thirty minutes later, I sigh, feeling almost sorry for the cocky Brit. He may be a brazen bastard, but he’s still a bachelor at twenty-seven.
Most of the guys I know from school and college are married, running their own small businesses, and already have two-point-five kids. I wonder briefly if his party-going ways are all because he’s lonely.
Shaking my head, I tell myself I’m overthinking it. Tomorrow is Sunday—well, technically, today is Sunday—which means I get to dog sit the golden retriever next door. The highlight of my weekend.
Perhaps that will get my mind off Colton King.
7
Colton
A groan rumbles in my chest when my alarm wakes me at four-thirty. After the busy weekend of meeting new people, smiling, and talking to industry experts, I feel more exhausted than ever before.
What I didn’t expect, though, was to think about Violet all through those meetings. She’s a welcome distraction from this life. Being in the public eye all the time. And even though she may not particularly like me, I’m not giving up. That’s not who I am.
I push off the bed and head into the bathroom to get ready for the day, and twenty minutes later, I’m showered, dressed in a pair of gray tracksuit bottoms and a T-shirt. The car is waiting when I reach the lobby, and I slip into the backseat and shut my eyes as the driver pulls away.
I can’t stop picturing her. And each time, it brings a smile to my face when I recall her blowing me off, and not in the way I was hoping. She told me she wasn’t a notch-on-my-bedpost type of girl, but I have to be honest—I didn’t think she would be. At least, I didn’t want her to be.
When we reach the venue for the shoot, I head into the building, up to the floor where they told me to go. I find Blythe with a myriad of photographers. Along to the left are hanging racks for the underwear, which I find very strange, and a long table filled with snacks, fruit, and bottles of chilled water.
/> “I didn’t think you’d make it this early,” Blythe remarks with a dark brow arched at me.
“You told me to be here, so I’m here. It’s my job, remember?” I remind her and notice the photographer smiling.
“I’m sorry,” she grits out coolly, but then continues to speak, “I’m just shocked that a party boy can even open his eyes before the sun comes up.”
“That’s all right, love.” I smile and turn away, heading toward the golden railing, which has small hangers lined up. There is a collection of trunks, briefs, and tiny shorts that look like they could be women’s underwear rather than men's.
Sighing, I grab the first one and look around for the changing area. Blythe saunters up to me, smiles, then informs me, “You have a room over there,” while pointing to the back of the large hall we’re in.
“Am I alone?”
“There will be a female model coming in about …” She glances at her watch, then looks at me. “Ten minutes?”
“Fine.” I leave her, heading for the room. Once I’m changed, I glance at my reflection in the mirror. They’re a perfect fit, tight, snug, and I actually quite like them.
When I step out of the change room, I find a slender woman who’s dressed in a bikini, getting her makeup done. She glances at me as the stylist pins her long, red hair atop her head and smiles.
“You must be the infamous Brazen Bachelor,” she says as I near her. “I’m Courtney.” She holds out her hand, and I take it. “Nice to meet you.”
“And you too. I’m Colton.”
“I know. Most of New York knows who you are. And after this, the world will most certainly know you.” She looks older than me, but not by much.
“And you’re …?” I allow my words to trail off as I wait for her to give me more information.
