I’m going to succeed. Not that I care in the least about showing off to my father anymore or to prove myself worthy of his love. But for myself, for Elle, and for our future.

“Thank you, Gary. Truly, I can’t express how much I appreciate your help on this.”

He chuckles. “You’re quite welcome, Colton. Glad to hear you say that, actually, because changing gears . . . I do hear London is quite a lovely city. Perhaps I can come across the pond, as you say, and help you get HQ2 up and running when the time is right?”

“Abso-fuckin’-lutely, Gary. That’d be brilliant.” I know my accent is thicker with excitement, but I don’t care.

“That means yes, right?” Gary replies, but he heard me loud and clear.

We hang up, and I make calls to Debra and Helen.

Debra graciously receives the high praise I heap on her for her drawings, expressing gladness that her blueprints helped sway the council representative. She needs minimal leadership, mostly telling me her next steps in pricing out the plans.

Helen is almost giddy when she answers my call. “Mr. Wolfe, it’s been better than expected without you here. I mean . . . not that we, that I don’t miss you. But nothing I haven’t been able to handle, sir.”

She gives reports on several projects and how she’s addressed them, correctly at every turn. Operations are running smoothly under her guidance, and she and Miranda even handled a shipping issue that could’ve been a hassle with ease.

“And Tom Givens?” I question, the only potential concern I’m left with.

“Who?” Helen says smartly, then giggles. “He tried to come in and throw his weight around a bit, but I set him right. I heard through the grapevine that he’s tossing about the idea of retiring early.”

I smile at that too. It would not be an early retirement for Tom since he’s over seventy. In actuality, he should be enjoying his days with his grandchildren, taking up a hobby, maybe, not trying to be a big shot in a situation where he’s allowed himself to become obsolete with his lack of growth. It didn’t have to be that way. Allan Fox is getting on in years too, but he’s constantly learning, exposing himself to new ideas, and welcoming the march of time and progress. Tom simply sat on his laurels, which he can happily do at home in his easy chair. He’s earned that luxury.

We should all be so fortunate.

“Well, if he retires before I return, make sure to send a bouquet, please. Or a plant, perhaps? Something he could care for while home.”

“On it, sir.”

Of course, she is. “Thank you, Helen. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you, these last years or this last week.”

“Fallen on your arse, is what.” I love it when she uses my British lingo back at me, speaking to the early days when we could barely understand one another at all, though technically, we were both speaking English. “I expect the same consideration as I adjust to London life.”

“What?”

“Well, I don’t know what you’d do without me, so I’ve been making plans to move with you. And no, that wasn’t a question. I won’t let anyone else fill that role, Mr. Wolfe.” She’s professionally respectful using my formal name as she tells me what-for.

“I would be delighted to have you aboard, Helen. In fact, I think you’d get along with my Nan. Peas in a pod, you are.”

We hang up after a few more updates, and I sit back on the couch, my hands locked behind my head.

I’m doing this. Everyone back in the States has virtually declared me the winner in this race, even wanting to follow me across the pond. It feels good, amazing, actually. And I want to celebrate, dance about the room, perhaps the way Elle did when we arrived.

But no. I want to open that door and celebrate with her. Not just this professional success, though it is what I’ve worked tirelessly on for so long, but to celebrate us. A much bigger and more important achievement.

I’ve captured her heart, and she, mine. And that’s the greatest success of all.

I knock on the wooden door, smirking at the oddity. It’s my door, it’s my hotel room, but it’s not any longer. It’s ours, and I can’t wait to see what my daring girl has gotten up to while waiting for me to do her bidding.

“Come in.”

I fuckin’ hope so, I think.

I open the door slowly, letting the anticipation build. And then I see her.

She’s draped across the center of the bed in blush-colored lingerie that makes her look nude but somehow is sexier than just bare skin. It must be the thigh-highs, which she knows I adore.

“Fuckin’ hell, Elle,” I whisper.

She stretches luxuriously, highlighting the curves and swerves of her lithe body. “Good reaction. I told you Tiffany would pack me everything I’d need for any situation. Now, come here.” She beckons me with a finger, but it’s her eyes that draw me in.

I’m dropping bits of clothing on my way to the bed, which is more her messy habit than mine, but right now, I just need to be bare with her.

I perch over her, my fists denting the fluffy bedding on both sides, our bodies aligned and legs intertwined, but I hold us separate. It takes every ounce of willpower I have.

“Tell me. What’s the dare this time?”

She bites her lip seductively. “I’ve been thinking about that while I waited for you. This time, I think I don’t want any dare at all. Just you and me, doing whatever we want. No rules, no challenge. Just free to be us.”

I freeze, searching her eyes. “I think that’s the most daring thing you’ve ever said. I love you.”

She says it back, but it’s mumbled against my mouth as I drop my weight onto her gently, pinning her beneath me with a kiss. It’s a soft, sweet sipping at her lips, memorizing her taste again and again. Because I know what I want, and she did say for us to each do whatever we want.

I let my kisses follow the line of her jaw to her ear, where I can’t help but suck her lobe into my mouth. Eventually, she writhes, wanting more, and I whisper into her ear.

“Put your hands up and hold the headboard, love. I’m going to lick and kiss, suck and nibble every fuckin’ inch of you.”

“Yes, sir.” There’s a tease there, but she does as I order, her hands slipping between the mattress and headboard as she carelessly knocks the pillows out of the way. I grab one and slip it beneath her hips, lifting her up like a smorgasbord for me to feast upon.

“Beautiful.” Just the one word, but goosebumps break out along her flesh. I chase them, kissing from her wrists at the top of the bed, across her breasts, down her belly and legs, to her toes, which makes her giggle. I think her previous declaration of no-feet had less to do with our putt-putt activities and more to do with . . . “You’re ticklish!”

She squirms, laughing and smiling, and while I file the information away for future fun, I move back up her long legs to where we both want my tongue.

I lick her clit, teasing and suckling the nub gently at first and then more intensely as she gets closer to coming. But I hold off, edging her. “Wait, not yet, love.”

I do it again with my fingers slowly grinding in and out of her, rubbing her G-spot the way she likes. “No, still not yet.”

“Ugh, you’re killing me, Wolfe.” The whine of my last name makes me chuckle because I know she’s not mad, but she lifts her hips, putting her pussy back to my mouth in a silent order.