A smile takes over my face. “Oui, oui, and more oui.”
Cole smiles. “I thought you might like that.”
“I love it. I take it Sage doesn’t have any plans to expand here?” I ask. Cole’s fiancée is our rival in Vegas. She owns the hotel across the Strip from ours, as well as other properties around the world, but none in Europe.
“She doesn’t mind, since this city is still ours. The whole continent, in fact. So let’s talk about expanding our dominance in Europe.”
“Yes, now that we’ve stolen you away from your vacation with your fantastic fiancée, why don’t we dive right into our devilishly brilliant plans?” I say, rubbing my palms together. I can’t help it. Business excites me. Deals thrill me. The chase of a new acquisition turns me on.
Business and Paris and beauty—those are the cornerstones of my life. After I learned the truth about my marriage, these have been the things seeing me through.
“Yes, what do we think about the Avignon property? Is it the beginning of a new line of boutique hotels?” Cole asks, a glint in his eyes.
Daniel quirks his lips up into a grin. “Actually, we think the Aix-en-Provence one could be the start. We took a little detour out that way this morning.”
Cole shoots him a look that says tell me more. “And what did you do there?”
We almost kissed.
I don’t say that, of course.
Instead, I chime in, “We came across a rather lovely property that we think could be a perfect acquisition target. We’ve been looking for a chain of boutiques to invest in.”
Cole’s eyebrows lift. “You found one?”
“Yes. While in Avignon, we got a tip on another inn, Le Pavillon de Aix-en-Provence, part of Le Pavillon group of hotels. So we did a little recon. It seems to have a lot of promise. The Aix-en-Provence hotel is one in a small chain of hotels across France and England. It doesn’t need as many renovations as some others we’ve seen. I don’t think we’re going to run into a situation where we buy something and it turns out all the chandeliers are falling down. Nothing that can’t be remedied, but I don’t want to be in that situation again if we can avoid it,” I say.
I fill him in on this morning’s issue at the Avignon hotel, then tell him more about what we encountered on our visit to Aix-en-Provence, about the property we saw, and about the research I did on the train ride home. “Le Pavillon and its sister hotels are owned by an investment group eager to sell. I want to do our due diligence, conduct some research, and be ready to make an offer once we know exactly what we might be getting into. That requires on-site visits to the properties.”
“Honestly, the three of us should go check out all of them,” Cole says. “I could probably slip away for a day or so. We could see a handful together.”
I shoot him a don’t you dare look. “You’re on vacation.”
“I know, but this is important if we’re talking about an investment this large.”
Daniel shakes his head. “You have business partners for a reason. You don’t have to do everything.”
“Besides, you’re the only one among us who’s happily besotted and betrothed. I insist you enjoy it,” I say with a smile.
“And I do,” he says, a little naughty undertone to his voice.
“Good.” I pretend to zip his lips. “Then don’t speak a word about it again. We can handle it.”
“I could probably convince Sage,” Cole mutters, trying once more.
Daniel will have none of it though. “You could. But you won’t. She’s a junkie, like you. Let the lovely woman have a break from work.”
“Tell me what you really think, Daniel,” Cole deadpans.
Daniel remains steadfast, and I’ve always admired their relationship—they tease and mock, but they are equally protective and caring. They are like brothers in some ways, looking out for each other as only family can.
Makes sense, since Daniel doesn’t have his own family.
“Say nothing more,” Daniel adds, his tone remaining intensely serious. It’s not one I hear often from him. But when he uses it, he means it thoroughly. He’s a concrete wall.
Cole huffs, a sign that he’s relenting, as the waiter stops by with our wine. We thank him, then I turn to Cole. “Stay with your fiancée. Daniel and I can go check them out.”
“But you’ll report back? Take photos?”
Daniel rolls his eyes as he lifts his glass. “Yes, I think we can manage that much.”
Cole hums, like he’s deep in thought.
I sip my wine and wait. Daniel swallows some of his wine too, then sets down the glass.
“I’ve known you for fifteen years, mate,” Daniel prods. “That means the wheels are turning. Serve it up.”
Cole draws a deep breath. “You said you pretended to be married?”
I arch a brow, unsure where he’s going. “Yes.”
He points from Daniel to me. “Why don’t you do that as you check out these hotels? It’ll be easier to fade into the woodwork, so it won’t be so obvious we’re kicking the tires. If you go as honeymooners, you’ll blend in even more.”
I’m quiet for a beat. So is Daniel.
I mull over Cole’s idea. Checking in as Daniel Stewart and Scarlett Slade, owners of a luxury hotel chain, might be suspect. Until we know whether we’d like to bid and, indeed, how much we’d be ready to offer, it would be best to catch the group owners unaware. Using secret identities could work.
But this is a dangerous game Cole’s suggesting we play. Only, it’s a game that admittedly holds some appeal.
Still . . . I need rules.
Surely he can’t be suggesting we share a room together—so what exactly does this game of make-believe involve?
“What would being honeymooners entail?” I ask.
“You could appear as a couple as you check in, visit the bars, stop into the restaurants. Make it easier to blend in.”
“I still have a passport with my married name on it. We could use that for photo ID. And a credit card that hasn’t expired,” I offer.
Daniel grins. “You’re brilliant. And the idea is brilliant too, Cole.”
Cole points from Daniel to me. “People won’t look at you like you’re two top hoteliers checking out a property. You’ll seem like a couple.”
I turn to Daniel, nerves in my chest, goose bumps on my skin.
I like this idea more than I should.
This one alluring chance to pretend.
6
Daniel
After we finish our dinner meeting, Scarlett kisses Cole’s cheek, then mine.
Since I’m a competitive bastard, I take note of the fact that her kiss on my cheek lasts a few seconds longer.
I could dismiss this as a courtesy given to a taken man.
But I like to look on the bright side—the bright side being her lips swept over my cheek for longer than they swept over his.
Maybe she craved that almost-kiss in the hotel room this morning too. Craved it like I did.
I’m damn, damn sure we both wanted it.
Certain, too, that we both ought to resist the dirty energy that seems to flow between us.