Because telling her that he wanted to know that she was safe and that he’d missed seeing her face this morning, that he wanted to kiss her again—that he wanted to spend the weekend with her, preferably in bed—was out of the question. It was a shock to realise that, even if sex was off the table, he wouldn’t mind her company, seeing her blinding white smile, exploring her bright mind.
What? Was he catching feelings for this woman? Was that the strange sensation he was experiencing? If he was, he’d better stop. And he could. He could gather up his emotions and shove them behind the sky-high wall he’d built. He’d done it often enough before and could, and would, do it again.
After meeting with Addison—and reassuring her that he’d talk to Jude about him taking her on when he acquired his hospitality portfolio—Cole had a pounding headache and a craving for a decent cup of coffee. The only down side of having a virtual assistant was that he had to track down and make his own coffee.
On crazily busy mornings like this one, not having coffee delivered was a pain in his butt.
Cole leaned back in his leather seat and looked out of his window onto a spectacular view of Lion’s Head. Or, it would be spectacular, if the famous landmark wasn’t obscured by driving rain. A cold front had moved in and another, bigger one was on its way.
He wasn’t going to see the African sun for a while.
He thought back to his meeting with Addison. Shortly after sitting down opposite him, Addison had expressed her sympathy for his dad’s passing and told him Grenville had hired her a few months after she’d finished her degree, a wet-behind-the-ears kid with no experience, and had become her mentor.
His father had taken a chance on Addison, a stranger, but hadn’t given him the time of day. It shouldn’t still hurt but it did. Addison wasn’t the first person Grenville had looked after and mentored—there was a young woman in India, and a few people in the States, who hadn’t stopped singing his praises.
Grenville had been able to see the potential in other people but had never offered his youngest son what he so readily gave to others. Did Grenville know that he’d graduated from the London School of Economics with a brilliant degree, that he’d got his MBA in record time? That he was the youngest hedge fund manager employed at Hershel and Grimm, one of the oldest, most respected investment firms in the world? Did he know he’d left them after a year and had taken most of their clients—their choice, not his—with him? That he had been a millionaire by thirty, a billionaire a few years later? Grenville had evidently cared far more for other people than he did for his own son.
It was that simple.
Why? What had he done? It was painful not to know. But being ostracised had made him tough, made him resilient, and, damn, it had made him determined to show his brother and father what he could do, what he’d achieved. Had his father lived, they would’ve been forced to acknowledge his achievement, to accept that he’d far exceeded the low bar that had been set for him. That he was their equal in every way that counted.
He felt cheated, like a child who’d reached for his stack of presents on Christmas day to have them whipped away and replaced with a chunk of coal. He’d so badly wanted his father’s approval, a hint of respect, because if he couldn’t have his love—and that had never been on the cards—he’d have settled for respect and approval. Love: it was such a stupid emotion. He’d been right to walk away from it, to stop looking for it. It caused nothing but heartache. It was far easier to live his life emotionally unconnected.
His eyes fell onto theRossdale Ski Lodgefolder, and he picked it up and banged its corner on his desk. He felt jumpy and irritated, and unable to focus.
Unfortunately, his inability to concentrate wasn’t something new.
Since his dad’s death and Sam’s disappearance, it felt as if all he’d done was react. He was a guy who called the shots, he didn’t take them.
Right, focus, Thorpe.
What was he going to do about Rossdale Ski Lodge, the asset Jude didn’t want, and the acquisition and the refurbishment of which puzzled both Jude and Addison?
He understood why. The cost of the renovation and refurbishment had meant that they’d had to charge exorbitantly outrageous nightly rates, and the lodge had had just a handful of customers in the eighteen months it had been open. It was run by a couple who were paid a huge salary to do nothing.
He needed to see the place for himself, to try and figure out what his father had been thinking when he’d purchased the property. He wouldn’t get that information from balance sheets and spreadsheets so that meant a trip to the far-away property. Cole pulled up a map and grimaced when he saw that it was more than a twelve-hour drive to reach the lodge.
It would be quicker to hire a private plane, then a helicopter. That was likely how his father had tackled the journey.
Cole reached for his phone, thinking there had to be someone in this place who could get him a cup of coffee. He was about to call down to Reception when he heard knocking and a bright head appeared between the door and its frame.
His heart settled and sighed, and he waved Lex to come inside. When he saw that she carried two mega cups of coffee and a brown grease-stained bag, he nearly wept with joy and briefly considered proposing to her.
The thought made him smile and, funnily enough, didn’t make his skittish heart want to bolt for the hills.Weird.
Cole had to stop himself from lunging across the desk to take the cup she held out. He lifted the mug to his mouth and took a hit of the hot, rich liquid. It was black and strong, just the way he liked it.
Lex took the seat opposite him, amusement turning her eyes lighter. ‘Wow. A little addicted, are we?’
‘A lot addicted,’ Cole replied. ‘Thank you, you have no idea how much I needed this.’
‘I’m beginning to get the idea. You wanted to see me, I wanted coffee, so I picked up one for you as well.’
He couldn’t remember when someone had last brought him a cup of coffee, or anything else, just because it occurred to them. It was a small gesture, but to Cole it felt as if someone had handed him a winning lottery ticket.
Cole nodded to the paper bag. ‘And that?’
Lex smiled. ‘That is a thank you gift for letting me use the SUV. I know this tiny bakery, and they do a limited run of the most fabulous chocolate croissants in the city. I called the owner and begged her to keep two for me. You loved the dessert from the other night, so I thought you’d enjoy this too.’