Cole's POV
Back in my room, I couldn't shake off the image of Lexi's wide, terrified eyes. What the hell was wrong with me?
"Cole, what is wrong with you? Why were you so angry at her?" I chided myself, raking a hand through my hair.
"Couldn't you see she was the victim? Just like other women… why did you have to say those things?"
The words tasted like ash in my mouth. I ripped off my shirt and headed to the closet, grabbing a pair of gray sweatpants. A hard workout was the only way to exorcise the guilt. I grabbed a bottle of water and headed out, still wrestling with my inner demons.
It was barely 5:45 AM, so I had plenty of time for the gym before breakfast. I paused for a moment, my hand hovering over the handle of Lexi's door.
"I'll apologize later," I muttered, my jaw tight. The elevator doors opened, and I stepped inside, the weight of my actions pressing down on me.
By the time I was on my last lap on the treadmill, the familiar rhythm of the exercise hadn't managed to quiet the voice in my head. The gym door creaked open, and I glanced up, my pulse quickening.
Lexi.
She was dressed in a fresh set of clothes, her golden-blond hair cascading down her shoulders instead of pulled back in her usual bun. The effect was… distracting.
"Wow… so this is where you get all your manly muscles from," she said softly, her eyes wide as she wandered into the gym.
I slowed the treadmill to a stop and hopped off, grabbing a towel to wipe the sweat from my neck and shoulders.
"Yeah, you could say that," I chuckled, surprised by the warmth that spread through me as I approached her. She had a way of cutting through the bullshit, of seeing things others missed. It was both fascinating and unnerving.
She looked genuinely interested, so I offered her a tour of the small gym. To my surprise, she eagerly accepted.
"Hold it this way."
"Be careful."
"Don't hurt yourself."
"Do you need my help?"
The words spilled out of me, a constant stream of concern that felt both foreign and completely natural. She asked a million questions and tried nearly every piece of equipment, except for the ones that were clearly too heavy for her. She was definitely a handful, but a strangely captivating one.
"I run on the treadmill every morning in a gym on the top floor of my penthouse. Can I try this one?" She asked, pointing.
"Sure, but you aren't wearing any sports shoes," I said, looking down at her bare feet.
"It doesn't matter. It's just for a few seconds anyway." She tossed aside her slides, hopped onto the treadmill, and started to run.
"Be careful," I muttered, the words automatic.
"I'm fine," she laughed, and I momentarily relaxed. But the moment my gaze drifted, disaster struck. Her foot caught, she stumbled backwards, and I lunged forward just in time to catch her before she hit the floor.
"Are you okay?" I asked, my voice laced with concern as I swept her up into my arms and carried her to a nearby bench. I gently set her down, my eyes scanning her face for any sign of pain.
"Did you hurt your ankle?" I squatted in front of her, carefully cradling her leg in my hands as I examined her ankle. Thankfully, there was no swelling, no sign of serious damage.
I looked up, and our eyes met. She was staring at me, her gaze intense, unreadable.
"What?" I asked, a flicker of unease running through me.
"Umm… nothing, really," she said, quickly retracting her leg from my hands and looking away.
"You have a very beautiful home," she said, abruptly changing the subject and heading towards the exit.
"Thank you," I said, following her out of the gym.
"About earlier… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have reacted the way I did," I said as soon as we stepped into the elevator.
"It's fine," she said, her voice flat, giving nothing away.
"Have you had breakfast?" I asked, grasping for something, anything, to break the awkward silence.
"Yeah," she said.
We rode the rest of the way in silence, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. When we reached the door of the room she was staying in, she turned to face me.
"Thanks a lot for last night, even though I don't remember much. Thanks, and also thank you for your hospitality. I'll get dressed and take my leave."
"I'll drop you off at your apartment," I said, the words coming out before I could stop them. Then, I turned and walked back to my room, feeling a mix of relief and frustration.
After taking a quick shower, getting dressed, and grabbing a bite to eat, I headed back to Lexi's. The entire scene was a mess, I can't lie. We sat in silence in the back of the car while the driver headed towards the other location, I didn't know where we're going, she already gave him directions.
I busied myself with some office work on my tablet and answering some important emails as we sat in the traffic-filled air. I needed something to distract myself, from her.
After what felt like an eternity, we arrived at her complex and surprisingly, reporters from different media companies were clustered at the gate of the location. I wondered who they were waiting for.
"What is going on?" Lexi asked, her voice barely a whisper as we both stared at the reporters through the tinted glass.
Just then, Lexi's phone rang, and I couldn't help but glance at the screen. She'd saved the caller as *Sweetheart*. *Hmm.*
"Hey, good morning," she greeted, her voice bright. Then, her tone shifted, becoming sharp and questioning. "Wait! What's wrong?"
"You of all people know I don't have a boyfriend. Where is this rumor coming from?" She asked, then paused. Her voice softened with surprise and a hint of panic as I tried to be as unserious as possible. This piqued my interest.
I set my tablet aside and quickly searched her name on the internet. *Surely, whatever this was about, it would be online.*
"Oh my God, was this us last night?" She shoved her phone in my face, her eyes wide with disbelief. I looked at the image and saw a picture of us from the club last night, taken as I carried her out of the club. Thankfully, the angle and the darkness made it impossible to identify me.
The person who took the pictures seemed to have been waiting for us outside. The photo looked intimate, like something of a romantic movie, it's so great that anyone would instantly assume we were a couple deeply in love, going home after a night out.
The news and pictures were already blowing up on almost every media blog and news outlet, with ridiculous headlines like:
*"Who is the Mystery Man With Model Lexi?"*
*"Lexi's Mystery Man Revealed!"*
*"Lexi's Boyfriend Looked Handsome Even From The Shadows!"*
I couldn't help but chuckle, finding the whole situation absurd.
"This isn't funny, Cole," she said, sighing heavily.
"I'm sorry… I didn't mean to laugh." I tried to reassure her, but the words sounded hollow even to my own ears. "Besides, it'll blow over in a few days anyway. You have nothing to worry about."
With the help of the complex security, we managed to drive into the location and reach Lexi's penthouse. Now we knew exactly who the reporters were waiting for.
"Couldn't you make a call and get the images and posts removed from the internet? You're the all-powerful Cole of Atlas, after all,"
"I could, but what would it change?" I asked, trying to reason with her.
"A lot of people have already saved those images on their phones and hard drives. It would still be talked about even if they vanished from the internet. Besides, having them scrubbed from every platform would only raise more questions about who the mysterious man in the photos is."
"Yeah, you're right," she said, sighing, the fight draining out of her.
A few minutes later, we pulled up in front of her high-rise apartment building and entered the parking garage. The silence in the car was thick with unspoken emotions.
"Take care, Lexi. And call me if you need anything," I said, my voice softer than I intended.
She turned to me, a small, genuine smile gracing her lips, the kind that made my chest ache for reasons I couldn't explain. "I can take care of myself, Cole. Have a nice day." Then, she got out of the car, the slam of the door echoing in the confined space.
I waited until she disappeared into the elevator before signaling to Alonso to drive off, my eyes fixed on the spot where she'd been standing.
-------------------
With my exclusive meeting with the heads of the #1 Billionaire Club locked in, I went back to my computer, anticipation thrumming through me. The afternoon couldn't come fast enough.
The #1 Billionaire Club wasn't just some exclusive social circle for the country's ultra-rich; it was a global power player, granting access and influence that most business moguls could only dream of. Joining had been my ambition since I was a kid, following in my father's footsteps as a patron member. It felt like a rite of passage.
"Come on in," I called out to the knock on the door.
"The car is ready, sir," my assistant said.
I glanced at my watch, surprised to see it was almost midday. Time had flown by. I quickly shut down my work and headed out of the office, a surge of excitement coursing through me.
The meeting was scheduled in a private suite at one of my company's biggest resorts. A few minutes later, the manager led me to the door.
"Good day, ladies and gentlemen," I greeted as I entered the suite, my voice confident and commanding. There were six of them: three men and three women, all seemingly in their early fifties.
"Director Cole, welcome," Mr. Phelps, the chairman of the club, said, rising to greet me. He'd been a close friend of my father's, but had never seemed to like me. His presence was a surprise. I'd been told he wouldn't be able to make it.
"Please, sit," he said, gesturing to the chair opposite them. I settled in, forcing myself to relax. I'd already passed all the preliminary verifications and assessments. Today was just a formality, the moment I'd officially receive my ticket into the club.
It felt less like a formality and more like an interview as all six members sat along one side of the table, their eyes fixed on me. I waited for them to begin.
"What do you think about marriage, Mr. Mikelson?" one of the women asked.
The unexpected question threw me off balance. It wasn't at all what I'd been prepared for. "Well, it's an institution where two people who love each other commit to a lifelong partnership in holy matrimony." A rote response that sounded hollow even to my ears.
"That's a wonderful answer," another woman said, smiling approvingly. "Now, tell us: why haven't you married? You're successful, handsome, and have everything any woman could ask for."
"Because I'm not ready yet," I stated, keeping my voice even. "I might not be ready for years. I have too many projects and goals that I need to accomplish before I can even think about settling down."
Mr. Phelps cleared his throat, his expression unreadable. "I'm sorry, Mr. Mikelson," he said, his voice firm, "but you do not meet the criteria for becoming a member of the #1 Billionaire Club."
It took a moment for his words to register, a long, agonizing moment where the world seemed to slow down. Then, the blood drained from my face, and I felt a surge of disbelief.
"What?!" I choked out, the word a strangled gasp.