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Jaxon smirked. “Thought it'd lift your mood. It definitely lifts mine. That meeting was suffocating.”
“Let me help,” Colton offered, still chuckling softly at this shared obsession over something so seemingly trivial yet undeniably precious.
Together they sorted through fine points and fountain tips until Colton’s hand landed on one that felt right—a sleek silver pen that bore traces of her touch.
Jaxon plucked it from Colton’s grasp and held it aloft like an Olympic torch before sliding it into his pocket with reverence. “Thank you, brother,” he said. “This is now my favorite pen and my keepsake.”
Colton watched with bemusement as Jaxon cherished that pen as if it were more valuable than any contract they had ever signed. It was moments like these—unexpectedly mundane yet profoundly personal—that tethered them not just as business partners but as brothers bound by blood and now by Delcy’s unwitting influence.
Colton's gaze drifted to Jaxon's desk, where his brother's cell phone lay prominently displayed amidst the organized chaos. The name flashing insistently across the screen—The Most Beautiful—immediately identified the caller. His lips twitched. Their sister Lou had claimed that title in all their phones, a cheeky reminder of her vibrant confidence.
Jaxon answered with a resigned sigh. “What, this Sunday? I'm busy. Let Colton take you.” He extended the phone toward Colton without waiting for a reply.
The device felt heavy in Colton's hand, an unwanted tether to a plan he hadn't agreed to. Yet as he pressed it to his ear, Lou's bright voice poured through, smoothing over his reluctance like warm honey.
“Hey, big bro! Will you please, please, please be my partner for the fashion show on Sunday?” Her voice was sugary sweet, laced with the expectation that he wouldn't deny her. “I simply can't attend solo. I represent us Sterlings in the fashion world. If I appear unaccompanied, those second-rate writers will draft unflattering accounts about me again, that I, a well-known socialite behind the prestigious Sterling fashion house, came partnerless as anticipated. They'll insinuate that I drive men away and no gentleman would desire my company, even my own kin.”
Colton released a weary exhale. “I thought Landon was escorting you.” He mentioned their cousin, Aston's identical counterpart. The Sterlings were renowned for birthing dominant twins in their ancestry.
Lou's response came as a frustrated snarl. “He ditched me, the crafty rat. I swear, Grandpa's going to hear about this.”
Jaxon undoubtedly picked up on Lou's raised voice through the phone as he erupted in laughter.
“Come on, Colt, pretty please. I'll spoil you with an amazing lunch afterward.” She tempted him with the prospect of food, and Colton struggled to resist the allure of a satisfying meal, particularly when it involved his beloved half sister.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting a battle he knew he'd lose. “All right, Lou. Sunday it is.”
Her squeal of delight was answer enough. He couldn't help but smile, despite himself. “You owe me,” he said, though they both knew he'd never collect.
“I love you!” she chimed before ending the call.
Colton handed back the silent phone to Jaxon, who wore a smirk, knowing full well that their sister could wrap Colton around her finger with ease.
The brothers then dove into a discussion about their upcoming deal—a series of negotiations for a prime piece of real estate that would expand their empire even further. Each point was dissected with precision until they reached an accord, setting in motion plans that would unfold over the coming weeks.
Returning to his office, Colton found Emma at his desk. She was tidying up and had lifted Delcy's coffee cup—the one he had so carefully sniffed out earlier. “Leave it,” he ordered before she could discard it.
Emma looked at him, her brows arching in silent question, but she complied, placing the cup back on the desk with deliberate care. She left a stack of files beside it—contracts and proposals demanding his review—and then retreated from the room, her curiosity about the coffee cup lingering like an unspoken word.
Alone again, Colton traced his finger over the rim, imagining the softness of Delcy's hand holding the cup, the warmth of her palm seeping through. Such a simple vessel, yet now sacred.
As the day wound down, Colton rose from his seat and then grasped his coat that was hanging on the back of his chair. Swinging it over his shoulder, a delightful scent wafted about him, prompting Colton to halt, his mind awash with curiosity. Delcy!
He inhaled deeply from the jacket, taking in her scent. She must have handled his jacket. Perhaps it had slipped, and she had retrieved it? The notion brought a grin to his face as he took another deep breath, savoring her fragrance.
At his penthouse, Colton approached his nightstand where another coffee cup from Delcy already resided—a twin to the one he had just salvaged from Emma's well-intentioned cleaning spree.
He placed the new addition beside its counterpart with a precision that belied his internal turmoil. Two cups—two simple vessels—yet they symbolized so much more, a craving for connection and a desire for something genuine in a world where everything felt transactional.
He drew out Delcy's note from his pocket and unfolded it once more, tracing her handwriting with his fingertips as if each loop and line were a clue to deciphering her. With reverence reserved for treasures of far greater monetary value but none greater personal significance, he placed it neatly in his drawer among other keepsakes—a collection of moments too meaningful to discard.
There was an inexplicable comfort in having these tokens close by. They were tangible proof that amid schedules packed with responsibilities and expectations towering as high as Sterling Enterprises' skyscrapers, there existed pockets of simplicity that could stir something within him he thought long buried.
As Colton readied himself for bed—slipping between sheets of Egyptian cotton, resting his head against pillows plumper than clouds, and his jacket Delcy had handled in his arms and near his nose—he couldn't shake thoughts of the beauty. They were an uninvited yet not entirely unwelcome intrusion into his usually impenetrable focus.
And as sleep claimed him in its silent embrace, Delcy's face danced behind closed lids. Come morning, her phantom touch still tingled on his skin.
* * *
