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Emma opened her mouth, but one look at Colton's stony expression quelled any further objection. She nodded and exited the office.
The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Colton ensnared in solitude. He sat motionless for a moment before springing from his chair like a coil released from its tension. He began to pace—every footfall resonated against the plush carpeting of his spacious office, a rhythm marking the seconds he didn't have to spare.
Outside, gray clouds amassed above the cityscape like an omen. The impending storm mirrored the tumult in Colton's chest—a whirlwind of anger and panic clashing with an undercurrent of dread.
With each pass by the floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a panoramic view of the skyline, Colton's reflection trailed him—a ghostly reminder of vulnerability he rarely acknowledged.
He loosened his tie with jerky motions, suddenly feeling choked. His thoughts were a jumble, only one truth ringing clear—he couldn't lose Delcy.
He ran an agitated hand through his hair and sank onto the leather couch, leaning forward with elbows braced on knees. He stared at the phone still clutched in his hand. Delcy's text taunted him, underscoring his helplessness. For once, he was unsure how to proceed. His characteristic confidence had deserted him, leaving him exposed and vulnerable.
A soft rap at the door had Colton glancing up. Emma stood hesitantly in the doorway, concern furrowing her brow.
“Is everything all right, sir?”
Colton looked away, jaw tightening.
“I'm fine,” he bit out dismissively. Emma withdrew without another word, pulling the door closed behind her.
Colton resumed pacing, his Italian loafers soundless on the plush carpeting. He needed to act but the path forward was unclear. Groomed from childhood to conquer and command, this uncertainty left him adrift.
In an adjacent office separated by a shared wall of success and ambition, Jaxon mirrored his brother’s restless movements, his agitation evident, his expression thunderous. Delcy's text had rattled them both.
The staff in the corridor exchanged glances; something unspoken had unsettled both bosses—a rare occurrence that didn't bode well.
A bolt of lightning splintered the sky outside, followed by a low rumble that resonated within the glass and steel confines of Sterling Enterprises. It was as if nature itself conspired to echo the brothers' inner turmoil—a symphony composed for an audience of two.
Colton turned away from the window as another flash illuminated his features—stern jaw set, eyes ablaze with resolve mixed with fear. Delcy had become his paradox. She was both his shield and his undoing. And as he faced this truth head-on like a ship bracing against stormy seas, Colton knew one thing for certain—he wasn't ready to let go without a fight.
The door burst open, and Jaxon stalked in, face dark with concern.
“Colt! What the fuck are we going to do about Delcy?”
* * *
Colton scanned around the modest café, the ambiance hovered somewhere between lackluster and comforting—a strange hybrid that seemed to fit Delcy's current mood perfectly. The place was far from their usual haunts, but it was Delcy's choice, and they were more than willing to oblige. He and Jaxon knew she needed to feel in control, to set the tone for their meeting on her own terms.
The brothers had become fixtures by the frosted window, the worn leather of the chairs hugging their forms as they waited. It was a stark contrast to the anticipation that used to hum in the air when they would stand by their sleek car, waiting outside her apartment, ready to whisk her away to places where the silverware gleamed as much as their expectations.
Now, on this nondescript Saturday, they sat with cups of lukewarm coffee untouched. The clientele was sparse, just scattered souls seeking solace in solitude or lackluster pastries.
Colton watched the door with an intensity that could have burned through steel. And then she walked in. The bell above the door tinkled, a soft herald of her arrival, and she appeared like a vision in simple jeans and a sweater that hugged her frame modestly. Her hair was braided down her back, a few wisps escaping around her face as if they too couldn't resist but be closer to her. She was stunning in an effortless way that punched the breath right out of Colton's lungs—a fresh girl next door that held his heart in her unassuming grasp.
As Delcy approached, Colton caught the flicker of nerves dancing across her features like shadows at dusk. She pulled out the chair across from them and settled down with a grace that made even this act seem significant.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Sterlings,” she greeted, her voice wrapping around their titles with a formality that erected walls where none used to stand.
The words stung more than Colton anticipated. They were a reminder of the chasm that had opened up between them—a chasm he was determined to bridge.
Jaxon gave him a sidelong glance, a silent communication they had perfected over years of brotherhood. It said everything: Let it be for now.
“Delcy,” Jaxon began, allowing her name to roll tenderly off his tongue as if it could convey all the words he held back. “It's just us here—no need for formalities.”
She remained silent for a moment, and seemingly overcome by anxiety, grasped for the menu. Her fingertips skimmed its border while her eyes flitted up to meet Colton's, then Jaxon's, only to dart away. The vulnerability in that small gesture twisted something deep within Colton.
She finally opened her mouth, perhaps ready to divulge the secrets pressing against her lips, but the moment shattered with the waiter's approach.
“Can I get you anything?” he asked, pen poised over the notepad.
