Breaking the Bro Code. Stefanie London
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less than nothing by the time he subtracted the lawyer’s fees.
‘Dammit.’
He jogged to the rental car from the shiny office building, pulling his tie loose with one hand and dialling Elise’s number on his mobile with the other. She hadn’t exactly given him her number but Col’s assistant was a skilful detective, and shortly after he’d requested Elise’s number it had appeared in his inbox.
The phone rang once, twice, three times—‘Hello?’
Her husky little voice was enough to light a fire in his blood and tighten the front of his trousers. He was looking forward to seeing her far more than was healthy.
‘It’s Col.’
‘How did you get this nu—?’
‘Never mind that. I’m running late.’ He unlocked the car and slid into the leather seat. The car was stuffy from sitting in the sun and the leather warmed his skin through the thin cotton of his trousers.
‘Shocker.’
‘Let’s catch up near the hotel. That way I can duck back and have a quick shower before we meet.’
‘I don’t believe I actually agreed to meet you.’
‘Tell me you’re not already dressed up and waiting for me.’ Silence on the other end of the line confirmed he was right. ‘I’ll see you there.’
‘You do realise that sounds suspicious as all hell.’
‘It’s not a ploy, Ellie. I really want a shower...though you’re free to join me if you feel like saving on your water bill.’
‘Where are we meeting?’ She wasn’t going to bite...unfortunately.
‘That little bar under the bridge on Southbank. It’s the one—’
‘I know which one it is.’
‘See you there in an hour?’
Click. He’d take that as a confirmation.
An hour and a half later Col arrived at their meeting place and looked around for Elise. The open-air bar was attached to the bridge that ran over the Yarra River. Only in Melbourne would you find a bar suspended above water, with crates for seats and footsteps of the thriving nightlife above. But if there was a nook, an unused space, a seemingly pointless alleyway, Melbourne would find a way to put a café or a bar there.
He’d missed that when he was in New York, though not as much as he’d missed a certain feisty blonde.
A flash of emerald silk caught his attention. Elise sat perched on a stool with a drink in her hand, behind her the lights of the city dazzled in winking shades of yellow and orange. The green of her dress shone against creamy, bare skin. He had a weakness for her in that colour, and he’d told her so frequently. There was something about green in any shade that caused her skin to glow as if she were a naked flame.
The dress hugged her curves but draped modestly where it counted; a small side split in the knee-length skirt taunted him with a sliver of thigh. Her hair was carelessly piled on her head, the river breeze ruffling it out of formation, and two emerald-coloured stones hung from her ears.
‘You’re late,’ she said, a half-empty cocktail in front of her. ‘Later than when you originally rang.’
‘I’m worth the wait.’ He dropped down to the stool next to her and motioned for the bartender.
‘Hardly,’ she said, but the flicker of her tongue against the corner of her glossy pink lips gave her away. That tongue had given her away before.
Col fought the urge to dip his head to hers and pull her tongue into his mouth. This was supposed to be about business. An unexpected wave of guilt rocked in his stomach—so much for all those journos who said he was cold as a New York winter. He still had the capacity to know when he was doing wrong by someone.
‘You look amazing.’ Okay, so maybe some of it wasn’t about business.
The corners of her lips pulled up into a forced smile. ‘Are you going to tell me why you dragged me out here?’
‘Why don’t we catch up first?’ He accepted the tumbler of soda water from the bartender. He didn’t need any alcohol affecting his judgement tonight, not when Elise seemed to do that so effectively on her own. ‘It’s been a while. What have you been doing with yourself?’
‘I’ve been keeping busy.’ She sipped from the edge of her glass delicately, her eyes fluttering closed as she savoured the liquid. He’d brought her here because he knew for a fact that they made a good Manhattan.
Part of him was comforted by the fact that her favourite drink hadn’t changed. She shifted on the bar stool and her dress moved, exposing more of her slender thigh. A gold anklet winked at him from the delicate joint of her ankle; he had an almost uncontrollable urge to run his tongue along the length of it. Enough!
‘Seriously, tell me what’s happened since I left. I’m interested.’
‘In the last five years?’
‘Has it been that long?’ Funny how half a decade could pass when you were sticking your head in the sand.
‘It most certainly has.’
‘And we’re both now responsible adults and entrepreneurs.’
She scoffed. ‘I would hardly call myself an entrepreneur, especially around you.’
‘You’re running your own business, doing well for yourself.’
‘And if by doing well for myself you mean running my business into the ground...’ She frowned, tipping her head back to enjoy the last mouthful of her drink.
‘The GFC has been rough on everyone, Ellie. Don’t be so hard on yourself.’
‘Sure looks like it affected you. Do you have to fly Economy now?’ Sarcasm was her defence of choice, another thing that hadn’t changed.
He drew his mouth into a line. She wasn’t going to make it easy for him, that was for sure. But he always found himself attracted to her ferocious will. Besides, having her at arm’s length would be a good thing. He couldn’t afford to get too emotionally tangled with Elise Johnson. The woman had a way of breaking his heart without even trying, and Lord knew he had enough emotional baggage when it came to rejection.
‘So what have you been doing with yourself, Mr Forbes Young Rich List?’ She gestured to the bartender to bring her another drink. A river cruise boat drifted past them.
He grunted. ‘God, I hate that label.’
‘You should be proud. The Old Rich List is so passé.’ Her voice was teasing but there was a hard glint in her twilight eyes.
He cringed. ‘You know I don’t keep up with trends...unless they involve a circuit board, that is.’
‘Seems to me like you managed to use your status to have a little fun after you moved.’
‘How so?’ He frowned, instinct telling him he was about to walk into a trap.
‘I happened to be reading the paper a while ago and saw a rather compromising photo of you and the daughter of a certain rival technologist.’
Ah, so they were back to this again. Despite what the gossip columnists made out, Col usually ensured any ‘itches that needed to be scratched’ were done so with the utmost discretion. No supermodels, movie stars or society darlings for him. Until he met heiress Tessa Bates, though she had been going under a false name on the night he met her. She turned out to be rebelling against her father and had scouted Col out on one of his ultra-rare public appearances. He’d walked straight into her trap and now there were pictures of him naked on her supposedly private balcony that would haunt him for the rest of his days.
‘You seem rather preoccupied with my sex life.’ He attempted