There was something about sexy lingerie that could make any woman feel like a million bucks. For Skye, comfortable cotton—or, preferably, nothing at all—had been her go-to for just about any occasion. Given that she’d been so focused on school over the last few years, dates had been reserved for Cole, and none of those had resulted in her stripping down to anything more than a bikini. So, when he told her to wear something sexy under the mildly shapeless beige shift dress he’d bought for her, she went all out in a full black push-up bra and garter set that she’d purchased on a whim at a bachelorette party years ago.

As luck would have it, the getup still fit, and she paired it with a set of lacey panties to match, along with near sheer thigh-high black tights with a lace-inspired top to clip her garter belts to. Never had she dared to go quite so provocative, but if Cole was going to make a move tonight, then Skye wanted to be ready—in spades.

After polishing off leftover sushi for dinner, she showered, shaved, and moisturized whatever she could reach. She kept her makeup minimal, but paired her black and white ensemble with a bold red lip. It was a bit too matchy-matchy with the first pair of heels she chose, so those were downgraded to black wedges that didn’t hurt her feet quite as much. Her coppery, sun-kissed hair rolled down her back in full Jessica Rabbit waves; it was the most work she’d put into her outfit in a long time. The last gala/cocktail party/snooty affair Cole had brought her to had been six months ago at a New Year’s Eve gala in LA, and then he’d had a stylist, hairdresser, and makeup artist who did the work for her.

Tonight was all Skye, and as she strutted across the lobby, smiling at Ben when he flashed a ten out of ten with his fingers, she felt like she owned the world.

Funny how a little personal pampering and a killer outfit could make your mood do a complete one-eighty in just a few hours.

Her stomach somersaulted at the sight of Cole’s usual black town car waiting for her outside the building. As she approached, her hands grew clammy, her ankles felt wobbly, and her sanity asked if she knew what she was doing. Given her choice of undergarments, Skye had made her decision: it was time for this relationship to get a little messy. If Cole made a move, if all signs pointed to liftoff, then Skye planned to give in wholeheartedly.

An unfamiliar driver stood waiting for her at the curb, and she smiled when he tipped his hat and opened the door. Skye slid in smoothly, pleased that she wouldn’t have to fend off paparazzi today; they followed Cole everywhere when they figured out what country he was in.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

Skye all but melted into the seat at his greeting—though it would have been more romantic if he’d actually looked up from his phone. At this point in their relationship, him clacking around on a screen didn’t offend her: screens were his job, and his job was his life. Still… The note…

“Hi,” she said, trying to keep her voice even as she leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “This is a fun surprise.”

Dressed to the nines in a fitted tux, Cole was equal measures breathtaking and panty-dropping. While he was only a few inches taller than her, his trim yet muscular figure always filled out his impeccably tailored outfits perfectly. When he finally tucked his phone into his inner jacket pocket and looked up, the full force of those ocean-blue eyes hit her like a freight train, forcing Skye to fiddle with her clutch as her cheeks heated to a boil.

“Is it? I was worried I was pushing it a bit with the timing,” he told her as the car peeled away from the curb, merging seamlessly with the late-night traffic. Coral Bay’s size allotted most people the luxury of walking everywhere, but there must have been multiple events happening tonight, as the road was full of cabs. Skye tore her gaze from the window, then chuckled when she realized she had left a huge lipstick mark on Cole’s cheek.

Scruffless today. She preferred him with a bit of brown-blond stubble, though the clean-shaven look highlighted that he’d been somewhere with a lot of sun recently, making his eyes pop—almost to the point where she couldn’t meet them.

Or maybe she couldn’t meet them because she was wearing the sexiest thing in her wardrobe under the loose-fitting, exquisitely soft dress.

“It’s fine. I just had yoga tonight anyway,” she insisted, rubbing the lipstick off with her thumb. Cole scowled and tried to twist out of reach, but she clamped down on his strong chin and held him in place. “Sit still and let me fix you.”

He groaned. “Mum, you’re embarrassing me.”

Skye adored that side of him—the playful, silly, real side he so seldom let the public see. When they were alone, a bit of that upper-crust polish faded, hinting at the estuary accent he’d had since birth. Skye preferred that too.

With all the lipstick gone, Skye retreated to her side of the car, though she couldn’t ignore the fact that their legs, both crossed, were touching.

“So, tell me about the interviews,” he insisted as he stretched his arm out across the back of the seat. She swallowed hard, ignoring the way the heat of his slightly curled hand warmed the nape of her neck.

“All of them?”

“I haven’t seen you in over two months,” Cole said with a slight shake of his head. “Too long.” His eyes dipped down to her body briefly before flickering back to her face. “Do you like the dress? I told Hunter to go for an off-white because of the, well…”

He gestured to her, struggling, and Skye’s eyes narrowed.

“The what?”

“The ghost-pale speckled look,” he said, which earned his leg a slap. He took it with a smirk. “What? You’ve said so yourself.”

“Well, we can’t all get our glamorous tans off the coast of some tropical paradise,” Skye fired back. “You know I just burn, then go back to porcelain no matter what I try.”

“My freckly queen—I’m more than aware.”

Damn it. She bit her lip, cheeks hot again, and decided a change of subject was in order. So, she switched gears to her interviews, including the two from today and the one she’d had two weeks ago. Cole listened with an unflinching intensity that had unnerved her when they first met; now, she knew it was just Cole providing a rare moment of undivided attention, technology-free.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, taking that I’m-a-sexy-professor-lecturing-you tone that always made her knees weak. “They’d be fools not to hire you.”

“There are lots of qualified candidates locally because of the college. I don’t know. I’m not too optimistic.”

She noted the change in scenery behind him in the passing streetlamp light. They’d left Coral Bay proper about five minutes ago and were headed in the direction of the elite suburbs still within the city limits. Mansions, many of which backed directly onto the beach, dotted the coast. Ten-foot cement walls surrounded each gated community. Given that Cole’s beach house was on the south end, not the north, she had never had a reason to do more than stare wistfully in passing at the homes poking through a forest of palm, oak, and cypress trees on the other side of the walls; another added measure to obstruct the plebeians’ gaze. She could only assume the landscaping around the enormous manors would be even more impressive.

And it was. Given that Skye had had a sugar daddy relationship with a billionaire for a little over four years, she’d thought she would be used to opulence by now—not so. While Cole tapped around on his phone after flashing his ID to security at the gated front entrance, Skye spent the remainder of the ride all but pressed up against the car window, gawking at how big, beautiful, and lavish the houses were, each one bigger, more beautiful, and more lavish than the last.

They eventually stopped at the house to beat them all: a lone mansion at the end of the lane, surrounded by mangrove trees and blooming crape myrtles. After joining the queue in the circular driveway, Skye noted that a grand cement stairwell led up a slight incline to the main house, with impressive flourishing gardens on either side. Pod lights scattered across the lawn lit up the place, though one look at the house and you could tell there was a party in full swing inside.

“We won’t be here long. Keep your phone on you for when I call,” Cole told the driver before the man hopped out and hurried around to Skye’s side of the car. She accepted his hand as he helped her out, trying not to ogle the house more than she already had. One of the things she had learned as Cole’s sugar baby was not to appear as though she didn’t belong. Blending in, acting bored, and feigning disinterest could all go on her résumé as special skills at this point.

Still. The house was pretty impressive. Like a Spanish manor in an era gone by, it sat atop a small hill overlooking its kingdom. Two stories, with a wrought iron balcony stretching the full length of the top floor, its exterior colouring reminded her of the inside of a seashell. It must have been breathtaking in the daylight. For now, she made do with the lights dotting the hillside gardens and the soft yellow glow of the veranda.

“Now, there are a few things I need to tell you about before we get in there.” Cole threaded his fingers around hers as they climbed the stairs together in perfect unison.

“Okay.”

“The party, it’s…” He cleared his throat. “It’s a sex party.”

Skye stopped walking and tugged her hand away. It was a what?

“I know, I know, totally inappropriate for us,” Cole insisted, hands up somewhat apologetically. “There are a few people here who keep skirting my calls, intentionally giving me the runaround, and I really just need to corner them and sort things out. This was my best opportunity.”

Skye opened and closed her dry mouth a few times, lost for words. His expression, his tone—none of it suggested he wanted to play tonight. Not with her, anyway, and not in the way she had hoped.

“When the organizer told me the theme this morning, I thought it’d be a bit unsettling if I showed up here without a date,” he said, almost tentatively, like he was bracing for her response. “I’ll only need an hour or so. There’s a private poker game off-limits to everyone but a select few.”

“And I take it you’re one of the select few,” Skye managed, her words a hoarse whisper until she cleared her throat. “And I also take it I’m not one of the select few. You know I don’t know how to play poker.”

When he nodded, she planted a hand on her hip and tried to ignore her racing heart. Clearly he hadn’t brought her here for sex. It was the same story as always: Skye was here to smile for pictures, hang off his arm, and make it seem like he had an active romantic life so his social circles wouldn’t think he was a total weirdo recluse outside the office.

So why the PS on his card? What was the point of her lingerie getup? Did he want her to fool around with other people? Her stomach knotted at the thought.

“Skye, please don’t be cross—”

“I’m missing yoga for this,” she hissed to divert her sudden rush of emotion, an uncomfortable blend of disappointment, frustration, and rejection.

“Yeah, but you said it was just yoga, remember?”

She pinched his arm, hard, when he offered what she knew he thought was a cheeky grin, the one that always worked on her.

But not tonight.

“Skye, I’m sorry. I should have warned you sooner—”

“It’s fine.” She lifted her gaze to the house. Maybe this was for the best. Maybe they weren’t meant to cross the line, to delve into the unexplored sensual side of their relationship. Maybe messy just wasn’t for them. Skye swallowed hard, her mind jumping from them making it messy to them severing ties because they couldn’t handle the messy, and the thought of losing Cole actually made her a little teary-eyed.

He noticed before she could brush the moisture away. “Skye? Is everything okay?”

“I just had a rough day,” she admitted. “It’s nothing. Seriously. Am I excited to spend the next hour by myself while you go bully some rich assholes? Not really, but it’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Oh, come now.” He captured her hand again as another pair of couples made their way up the stairs around them. “You don’t have to be by yourself. This is an excellent opportunity to network. I know for a fact several members of the arts and culture council will be here.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Trolling for sex?”

“Well, probably.” Cole smirked as they slowly resumed climbing the stairs. “I’m not saying you have to participate. Don’t feel pressured to do anything you’re not comfortable with.” His voice seemed to catch as he spoke, like he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the subject matter either. “Although it’s my understanding these things don’t heat up until midnight, so we have some time.”

“What, you don’t frequent sex parties?”

“Not without you,” he stated, then begrudgingly dug out his phone when it chirped in his pocket.

And there it was. One of those moments, those instances where Skye had to wonder if she wasn’t imagining things and Cole really did want her—or if she was losing it and that was just his sense of humor.

Whatever the case may be, she didn’t have time to scrutinize it. Soon enough, she and Cole were inside, being welcomed by an army of party staff who explained the layout of the house, what was off-limits, and that swimming in the ocean while intoxicated was never a good idea. They were then escorted from the huge foyer with its crystal chandelier and gold trimmings to a large room positively brimming with people, a room that overlooked the backyard—and, by extension, the private hillside beach trailing down to the Pacific.

“See, plenty of people to butter up,” Cole insisted. With the party tour guides gone, he stood slightly behind her, an arm around her waist and his hard body pressed flush against her back. Her skin prickled as his words rolled in soft, heated whispers across her ear, and she barely had the capacity to pay attention when he pointed out three city councilors, two museum benefactors, and one university department head. Then he kissed her cheek, the feel of his lips lingering long after they left, and gave her waist a little squeeze. “Go network, sweetheart. I’ll be back before you know it.”

She watched him go, skirting the crowd along the back wall and heading for a doorway with a black ribbon across it—one of those off-limits places, she assumed. However, as he neared, a waiter in head-to-toe navy pulled the rope aside and gestured for him to enter. Before he disappeared, Cole met her eye and mouthed I believe in you from across the room.

Skye rolled her eyes, but couldn’t keep a smile off her face. She adored that man, whether he wanted to take things to the next level or not. Her disappointment wasn’t his concern; Skye had primed herself for something that would probably never happen. Whatever she felt in that moment was her problem and hers alone.

One she planned to drown in champagne as soon as possible. Squaring her shoulders, she ignored the way a cluster of men eyed her and flagged down a roving server. He almost glided away after she took one flute of golden bubbly, but Skye grabbed his sleeve and held him in place as she downed the entire thing, then took another.

“Okay,” she muttered, tapping her finger against the crystal and scanning the crowd. “Network. I can network for an hour.”

Zeroing in on a councilmember, a middle-aged woman whose dress got sheerer and sheerer as Skye approached, she mentally prepared her sell-yourself speech, then forced a bright smile and sidled into the conversation like she had been there the whole time.