Page 16

Eleanor

COLTON STONE WAS a dirty, shameless liar.

I couldn’t believe he was Tripp. The man had me fooled, had me willing to ask Tawnie stupid questions to find him again. He’d made me act completely out of character, and now that I knew the truth, I was absolutely livid.

Liars were a dealbreaker for me. Without honesty, a person had nothing. Colton Stone had crossed a line.

And yet, why did he have to be so infuriatingly handsome? It was downright unfair.

I stood off to the side, watching the crowd enjoy the party I’d meticulously planned, but my gaze kept betraying me, sliding back to him no matter how much I didn’t want it to. He wore that tuxedo like a second skin, the fabric tailored to perfection over his broad frame. He looked lethal, every inch the man who could ruin me if I let him. His hair was neatly combed back, curling slightly at the nape of his neck, and my fingers itched to rake through those silk-soft, silver strands again. It was an ovary explosion.

I drained most of the bourbon in my glass, the burn doing little to cool my anger—or my other, far less welcome feelings. No matter how furious I was about his deceit, my body hadn’t gotten the memo. This was going to be the hardest two months of my life. My pulse still quickened watching him, memories of last night flashing through my mind. The way he’d edged me until I almost caved and begged for more…

The sheer size of his cock had been enough to make my knees weak. Then the way it pounded into me with near perfect precision?

Now I’d be working for the man, and a second round was out of the question. That was a line I refused to cross, no matter how chiseled his abs might be.

Colton stood across the room, hands tucked into his pockets as he laughed with a pair of donors. He tilted his head back, his laughter carrying across the space—the sound so fake, I almost cringed.

His people skills were abysmal. That much was clear from his stiff, barely-there smile through each interaction tonight. I’d spent most of my time observing his behaviors, partly to help me help him but also because I was infuriatingly curious.

Colton Stone might have the looks of a god, but his charm seemed as manufactured as the faux smiles he was handing out tonight. I can’t believe I let that work on me.

I needed to get my mind off these ridiculous, unwelcome thoughts. With a quick shake of my head, I pulled out my phone and got to work. Shifting into professional mode was my only chance to tamp down the maddening pull of wanting to throttle—and kiss—Colton Stone.

I started snapping candids of the crowd, angling for the kind of genuine moments that always performed best on social media. If I edited them right and crafted a narrative, engagement would skyrocket.

The plan was simple: paint Stone Ranch as a place that focused on the wealthy elite but was rooted in community and giving back. If people could connect with the heart of the ranch—its authenticity—they’d have something to sympathize with, which would begin to rebuild its image. This charity gala was just the beginning. Each of his properties would host different events, all aimed at including the community.

The real challenge? Bringing Colton Stone online. He struck me as the type to growl at the mere mention of hashtags and engagement metrics. But he’d hired me for a reason, and I wasn’t about to let his surly attitude throw me off.

Phone in hand, I started recording, keeping him in my peripheral vision. He’d moved to another cluster of donors, his shoulders tense despite the easy flow of conversation. I edged closer, careful to stay hidden while filming the interaction. Whether he liked it or not, Colton was part of the story now. And I wasn’t asking for permission.

Glancing at my watch, I realized it was time to rally everyone for the raffle announcement. The setup was straightforward: Each donor purchased tickets to place into boxes corresponding with various prizes. More tickets meant better odds of winning. It was a hit with this kind of crowd.

I spotted Colton again, his scowl fixed in place like it was stitched into his DNA. Rolling my eyes, I made my way over, slipping through the throng of guests.

“Mr. Stone,” I said smoothly. “I hate to interrupt, but I need to steal you away for a moment.”

I plastered on my most practiced smile, the one reserved for events like this, and ignored the flicker of irritation in his stormy gaze. He nodded curtly to the couple he’d been talking to, excusing himself.

Without thinking, I slipped my arm through his, the gesture polished. His arm was solid under my touch, which was annoying, but everything about tonight was about the image, and appearances mattered in front of this crowd. Having Colton escort me arm in arm felt more elegant and refined than simply side by side.

Colton, staring straight ahead, grumbled, “What do you want, Eleanor?”

His tone was sharp, and it made me bristle. There was a part of me that wondered why he was so guarded. He was the one who hired me in the first place, so the broody man thing felt misdirected.

I kept my eyes forward, refusing to hold his gaze because if I did, I feared I’d give in to the inexplicable urge to kiss that stupid neck of his again.

I scoffed lightly, keeping my focus forward. “It’s time to announce the winners. Don’t forget to smile.”

If he wasn’t so aggravating already, I might have been amused by the tension crackling between us.

“Why do I keep getting reminded of that?” Colton muttered, pulling his arm free as we approached the podium.

“Because you look like being here is some kind of punishment,” I replied, bending down to grab the stack of papers I’d stashed under the podium. I’d already had Tawnie pre-pull the names to ensure everything ran smoothly.

“Exactly,” he grumbled, stepping up to the mic.