Filthy Beautiful Love. Kendall Ryan

new key for you, Miss.’ His Italian accent caresses the words, making them sound much sexier than they are.

      ‘I have a key.’ I hold it up.

      ‘Yes, but for your new suite. Floor seventeen.’ He folds the key card in my hand while simultaneously removing the old one.

      I recall Colton stopping to talk in hushed voices with the concierge before we left the hotel. Is this his doing?

      He raises an eyebrow and shrugs. ‘I just wanted you to be comfortable.’

      I bite my tongue to avoid pointing out that I’d been more comfortable before he appeared and started interfering, but deep down inside, I know he’s just trying to be nice, as annoying as it might be. He can’t win me back with thoughtful gestures and sweet remarks. Call me crazy, but I have a rule about dating man who are married: I don’t.

      ‘You shouldn’t have,’ I bite out and turn for the elevator, punching the button repeatedly with my thumb. I notice Colton waiting beside me and I give him a pointed stare. ‘I guess you can wait in the lobby for Becca and Pace’s sightseeing date to end.’

      ‘You promised me we could talk,’ he says, his tone making clear his displeasure.

      Yes, but that was before the wine and the possessive stares he treated me to all during lunch. I don’t trust myself alone in a room with him right now. ‘I don’t think being alone in a hotel room with a married man is proper.’

      He releases a low growl of frustration just as the elevator doors open and drags me inside.

      Warning bells are going off inside my head. I’m about to be alone with a man who still holds power over my heart despite his unavailable relationship status.

       Be strong, Sophie.

       Colton

      Pinning Sophie to the wall of the elevator, my hands clench into fists above her head. It’s taking every ounce of self-control I have not to push my hips into hers and claim her mouth. I know I’ve lost the right, but my body refuses to understand that.

      I can see her pulse thrumming in her neck as I bend down near her ear. ‘Don’t push me right now. My emotions are all over the fucking place – something very new for me, I can assure you.’

      She shoves both hands against my chest, pushing me back several paces. ‘Oh, your emotions are all over the place? Try putting yourself in my shoes.’ Her voice rises frantically. ‘I was buck-naked in your goddamn pool trying to seduce you when your wife showed up.’ The word wife is spat from her mouth like a sour bomb.

      ‘You ran out on me before I had the chance to explain. You wouldn’t answer my calls and now I’ve flown six thousand miles just to set the record straight with you.’ I take a deep breath and straighten my posture. Arguing with her won’t get me anywhere. Of course she has a right to be mad. ‘Listen, Soph. I needed to see you. I’m coming upstairs to talk to you.’

      After an intense standoff her gaze falls to the floor as she realizes further negotiation will be pointless. ‘What floor am I on?’

      ‘Top floor,’ I answer. The best suite they have. Obviously.

      Realizing we’re just standing in the stationary elevator that hasn’t yet moved from the ground level, she gingerly reaches out and presses the button. My mouth lifts up in a smile. Progress.

      Per my instructions, Sophie and Becca’s luggage has been moved into the suite. There’s a moderately sized living room, two separate bedrooms, each with its own washroom and a tiny balcony overlooking the courtyard fountain. She takes a minute to navigate the rooms, lightly running her fingers along a gilded antique credenza and bending at the waist to smell the fresh arrangement of white blossoms on the coffee table.

      I take every second I can to just drink her in. Even though it’s only been three days since I’ve seen her, held her in my arms, slept with her warm body next to me, it feels like much longer. The privilege to touch her has been ripped away, and my body riots in silent agony, my heart aching and my fists clenching uselessly at my sides. I fucking hate this.

      We need to talk like civilized adults, but fuck if I know how to start.

      ‘Soph…’ I begin.

      ‘Colt…’ She says at the same time.

      We share an awkward smile.

      ‘Come sit down.’ I gesture to the sofa – neutral territory and she obeys, slipping off her sandals and curling her legs underneath her as she sinks into the cushion farthest away from me.

      ‘Ask me anything you want to know. No more secrets,’ I promise.

      Bouncing one knee up and down, she twists the ring on her thumb. ‘How long have you been married?’

      I release a heavy sigh and push my fingers into my hair. Much longer than I want to admit.

      ‘If you try to hide things…if you’re going to be evasive…’ She swallows.

      ‘Anything you want to know. Even if the truth is hard to hear,’ I confirm. As much as I’d like to protect her from the ugly truth, I won’t. Not if that’s not what she wants. ‘I’ve been married for four years. For the past two we haven’t lived in the same state.’

      ‘Why was she at your house that day?’

      ‘Who the fuck knows with her. We’ve been trying to settle our divorce for a long time. But neither of us can seem to agree on anything.’

      She licks her lips, thinking over this information. ‘Is she the reason you went to New York?’

      ‘Yes, Stella lives in New York with her boyfriend. I went there to try and talk to her about the terms of our divorce in person. That didn’t work.’

      Her forehead creases. ‘She has a boyfriend?’

      I nod. ‘Our former gardener. I found out they started fucking after we got married.’

      Her mouth tugs down in a frown. ‘Oh.’

      ‘It turns out that she never loved me, and even though my family warned me about her motives, I couldn’t see it. I wanted a woman in my life, and I don’t know…’ I rub my temples absently. ‘Maybe it had to do with losing my mother at such a young age… But I liked the company, the companionship of someone by my side. Someone warm and loving to share my life with.’ I sound like a complete pussy, but that was how the twenty-four year old me saw the world.

      And Stella was the perfect trophy wife, accompanying me to work functions, dressing in the latest fashions and always a happy smile on her lips. Too bad it had all been fake.

      ‘What happened?’ Sophie asks, her tone softening.

      ‘Things changed as soon as we got engaged. I thought it was just stress over planning the wedding–she wanted it to be the affair of the decade, something the Los Angeles elite would be buzzing about for years to come–she put way too much pressure on herself planning it. I didn’t see at the time that it was all for show. It was more about the dress and the party and French champagne than it was about me and her.’

      Sophie chews on her lip, listening intently. I have no fucking clue why I’m unloading all this…but something tells me if I have any hope at salvaging things between us, I need to bare my soul.

      I clear my throat and continue. ‘And even though my brothers tried to talk me out of it, I had convinced myself that it was all going to be fine. I wasn’t going to call off my wedding simply because my fiancé was turning into a bridezilla. I figured it would all settle down after the wedding day.’

      ‘But it didn’t?’ Sophie asks softly.

      ‘No. She was distant, and cold. Not at all like the smiling, charming girl I fell for in the first place. Once the rock was on her finger and the ink on the marriage license was dry, she turned into a completely different person.