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Jaxon chuckled. “Now, how about dinner? I'm starved.”
* * *
Colton was feeling relaxed and content after the exquisite meal he had just enjoyed with Jaxon at a three-Michelin-star restaurant. The buttery Wagyu beef practically melted on his tongue, paired impeccably with a bold Barolo that complemented the rich flavors. Even the dessert—a silken crème brûlée—was sheer perfection, the crack of the burnt sugar top sending a spike of satisfaction through him.
The luxurious meal had been a welcome respite from their usual routine, and Colton had savored every morsel, but now his mind was focused on getting home. As they stepped out onto the bustling city street, the cool night air caressed their faces. Colton loosened his tie, already dreaming of the scotch he would enjoy while unwinding in his study.
Jaxon, ever the impulsive one, said, “Colt, you fancy a quick stop at that cozy little café I spotted earlier? It's just around the corner.”
Colton hesitated for a moment. He was eager to get home and unwind after the long day, but he couldn't deny his brother's infectious enthusiasm, and as always, he found it difficult to deny Jaxon much. “Fine,” he relented with a sigh. “Lead the way.”
They entered the café, a quaint but dreary space with only a few patrons scattered at the tables. Colton wrinkled his nose slightly, the lighting too harsh and décor lacking any flair. This was certainly not their typical haunt.
As they approached the counter, a young woman emerged from the back, her lower face obscured by a mask. Colton studied her intently, noting the smooth skin and dark, lustrous hair pulled back in a ponytail. Even with the mask, he detected an elusive sweetness in her scent, though he couldn't quite place the aroma.
“One coffee, please. Black,” Jaxon ordered briskly.
The woman—Delcy, according to her name tag—nodded and turned to prepare the drink. Colton watched her graceful movements, a contrast to the otherwise dull surroundings. He found himself curiously drawn to her, though he wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was the hint of weariness in her eyes or the way she carried herself with quiet dignity even in the mundane task.
When she came to their table with the coffee, Colton inhaled sharply, the proximity intensifying her sweet scent. It teased him, stirring a raw need he fought to suppress. His inner alpha recognized that alluring fragrance, though his rational mind rebelled against the implication.
Delcy. An unusual name. He rolled it around in his thoughts as Jaxon doctored his coffee. An uncomfortable heat was spreading through Colton's body, his instincts threatening to override reason. He needed to get out of there. Now.
“Hurry up and drink,” he muttered tersely to Jaxon.
His brother glanced at him in surprise but didn't object. He downed the coffee in several gulps.
“Let's go,” he bit out, already up and striding toward the exit.
Once outside in the cool night air, Colton drew in a deep breath, trying to clear his head. To steady his pounding heart and tamp down the unwelcome desires. Desires he refused to acknowledge, much less act upon.
Jaxon was watching him curiously but had the sense not to pry. Colton was grateful for that. Without a word exchanged between them, they headed toward their respective cars.
Colton's arrival at his penthouse was a silent affair. The door swung open at his approach, revealing the austere face of his butler, Hawkins, who bowed slightly in greeting.
“Welcome home, Mr. Sterling,” he said, his voice a low rumble of respect and deference. The elderly beta had been in service to the Sterlings for decades and was unflappable in his decorum.
Colton gave a curt nod in return, not trusting himself to speak. He shrugged off his jacket and handed it over without breaking stride. The butler accepted it with practiced ease, disappearing to hang it in the cloakroom.
Colton strode into the foyer, the cool marble floor a welcome contrast to the heat coursing through his veins.
Mrs. Danvers, the housekeeper, emerged from the depths of the penthouse with a warm smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes. Like Hawkins, she was a beta who had dedicated her life to the Sterling family, her loyalty and discretion beyond reproach.
“I've prepared your room for the night,” she said. “And there's a fresh batch of lemon water in the fridge.”
“Thanks,” he said, though his mind was elsewhere, on a scent that lingered on him, a fragrance that refused to be ignored.
Struggling to rein in the primal urges simmering beneath the surface, he headed for the sanctuary of his bedroom.
His master suite was an opulent space that catered to every comfort and whim—a king-sized bed that beckoned invitingly, a sitting area with plush leather chairs, and floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the city's twinkling lights like a masterful painting.
He paused at those windows, gazing down at the urban sprawl below. From up here, everything seemed distant and muted, every problem reduced to nothing more than flickering lights against the dark canvas of night.
Colton closed his eyes as he focused on steadying his breathing. But closing his eyes only intensified the memories, of delicate hands preparing coffee, of dark hair framing beguiling eyes, and most dangerously, of that sweet, intoxicating scent.
Cursing under his breath, he turned on his heel and began shedding his clothes as he headed for the shower.
The steam soon clouded the mirrors as hot water cascaded over him. He let out a long breath as he felt his muscles relax under the spray, but it wasn't enough to ease the tightness in his chest or quell the heat coursing through him.
