Coldhearted King: Chapter 19

I check my reflection in the mirror one more time, smoothing my fingers over the silky material of the floor-length red dress I’m wearing. Hopefully with an outfit this gorgeous, and expensive, I should fit in with all the other guests at the gala.

I turn away from the mirror and check the time. Cole will be here soon to collect me. The thought has a whole kaleidoscope of butterflies beating their wings in my stomach. I haven’t seen him since we got back from the hotel site. He’d told me I could do whatever I wanted for the rest of the day, then disappeared into his room for a conference call with his brothers.

I spent a couple of hours wandering around and indulged in a delicious deep-dish pizza for lunch, then returned to my hotel room and distracted myself by sketching out my ideas for the hotel’s revised design.

I’ve tried hard to forget about what happened in his office, but it’s been on repeat in my mind since I slid into the car this morning and saw him looking so gorgeous. Images of what could happen tonight flash through my head at high speed, and heat pools low inside me.

Not that he’s suggested anything of the sort to me, but the way his eyes lingered on me this morning tells me he probably wouldn’t say no if I offered. I just don’t know if offering is something I should do.

The rap of his knuckles on the door startles me, and I take a deep breath before opening it. Cole’s brilliant blue eyes take a long, slow sweep down my body and back up again, catching on the plunging neckline of my dress. He doesn’t even bother to hide the desire that sharpens his gaze.

Part of me wants to grab him by his crisp white shirt and drag him into my room. Make him remind me how his body feels moving with mine. But the more sensible part holds me back. The risk is too high, and despite recent evidence to the contrary, I’m not someone who regularly throws caution to the wind. While the reward would be great, it would also be fleeting. I have to be smart and keep my focus on my long-term goals, and they don’t include ruining my career by sleeping with my company’s biggest client.

Again.

I step out to join Cole, pulling the door firmly shut behind me. Before I can ask how the rest of his day was, his hand goes to my back, his fingers sliding around to my waist.

He leans down, his breath fluttering the tendrils of hair at my neck. “You look beautiful, kitten.”

Goose bumps erupt over every inch of me, and I let out a shaky breath. “You look very . . . uh, handsome, too.”

It’s a gross understatement. I’ve seen Cole in a business suit, but this is the first time I’ve seen him up close in a tuxedo, and he is the definition of a sexy, powerful, rich man. His black jacket is perfectly tailored to show off his height and broad shoulders. The heat of his gaze scorches over my exposed skin, and the curve of his seductive, masculine lips reminds me exactly what he can do with them.

When I lick my own suddenly dry lips, his fingers tighten on my waist, sending an excited little quiver running through me. God, why is it so hard for me to ignore him? After all, I managed to ignore plenty of men during college, and those men were far more my type than Cole—kind, considerate, respectful.

Exactly the way Paul was at first.

I turn away from Cole’s too-hot perusal and make for the elevator.

The gala is being held at the Lakefront Plaza, another King Group property, so a limo is waiting outside to take us there. The driver opens the door for us, and I slide in first, Cole following me.

During the drive, tension swirls in the air. Neither of us speaks, but instead of it being awkward, the temperature only rises. All I can seem to think about is the way he’s touched me, the feel of his muscles under my fingertips, how hard he’s made me come.

The spacious car isn’t big enough to give me the distance my body needs. I can almost feel his gaze burning into the side of my face, but I refuse to look at him. If I do, there’s a chance I might decide to embrace the previously undiscovered reckless side of me—the side that only seems to come out around Cole—and unbuckle my seatbelt so I can straddle him. There’s no mistaking how damp my panties are already. I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

“Delilah, look at me.” Cole’s deep voice is commanding enough to get me to turn toward him. “I told you back in New York that I don’t have to manipulate women into having sex with me, and that’s true. I brought you here because it made sense for you to join me. But I’m not going to lie, either. I want to fuck you again. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since you walked into the meeting room that first day, and I’m tired of fighting it.”

I inhale sharply, my nipples immediately hardening under the thin material of my dress.

He notices, and a muscle leaps in his jaw. “I want you tonight, Delilah. Tell me I can have you.”

My heart hammers. My mouth opens to respond, but nothing comes out. I’m frozen, torn between wanting to experience what I know he can give me and my awareness of just how horrendously wrong this could go.

Cole reaches out and brushes his thumb across my lower lip. “I want to see this lipstick smeared all over my cock. I want my tongue deep in your pussy. I want to make you come until you physically can’t anymore. And I want it tonight. Just one night and then we go back to New York and the way things are now. But if you agree, you’re mine until morning. And Delilah,” he says, gripping my jaw and forcing me to focus on his words over the pounding of blood in my ears. “If you say yes, I plan to make you forget Paul ever existed.”

That last bit makes me flinch, and his hand drops away.

“Think about it and give me your answer before we leave the gala tonight. If you say yes, I won’t wait until we get back to the hotel to start. Do you understand?”

I am way out of my league with this man. I want to scream at the driver to pull over right now so I can get naked and rub myself all over him. I want to unbutton his pristine white shirt and kiss a trail down his skin until I can unzip his pants and take him into my mouth. I want to pull my dress up my thighs and slide onto him. I want to experience everything my body and his can do together. After having a taste of just how amazing sex can be, then being disappointed with my physical relationship with Paul, I just want to feel it all over again.

But instead of doing any of that, I force out two words. “I understand.”

Cole stares out the window and I sit in stunned silence, trying to figure out exactly what I should do. I could whip out my phone and message Alex, but I don’t want to interrupt her time with Jaxson. Plus, I already know what her advice will be. Something along the lines of, “Ride ’em, cowgirl.”

I’m mercifully distracted from the overwhelming chaos in my mind when we approach the hotel. The building is lit up, with an honest to goodness red carpet out front. Photographers stand on each side, snapping photos of the people walking on it.

“I didn’t realize this was such a big event,” I murmur.

“Some of the richest people in the US are here tonight,” Cole says. “And people with that kind of wealth and power want to make sure everyone sees them.”

I turn to look at him. “Do you go to many of these?”

“Usually it’s Roman or my father.” The line of his jaw sharpens. “Or it used to be, anyway.”

I consider asking him about his father, about how he feels about what happened, but I don’t have the time—or probably the courage—because our car is pulling up to the red carpet.

The driver gets out and opens the door on Cole’s side.

“Ready?” Cole asks.

I’m not, but I nod anyway. He steps out, then turns to hold out his hand for me. I take it, feeling completely overwhelmed as he tucks it into his elbow, and we start down the red carpet. Camera flashes from both sides dazzle me, and I hear voices calling out to Cole.

“Mr. King, who’s your date tonight?”

“Mr. King, who’s your date wearing?”

“Mr. King, how do you respond to rumors that investors have lost confidence in the King Group following the arrest of your father?”

What the hell kind of question is that at this kind of event?

The muscles in Cole’s arm tighten, and I peer at the group of mostly photographers standing to the side. Two or three people hold microphones, attempting to ask the attendees questions, but I can’t tell which of them asked about his dad. Cole doesn’t answer anyway. His expression appears completely inscrutable, but I’m close enough to detect the faintest tic in his jaw.

Curling my fingers around his bicep, I squeeze it reassuringly. He looks down at me, surprise lightening his eyes. One corner of his mouth kicks up for a millisecond, and then he’s looking straight ahead again as we approach the large open doorway.

Now that we’ve mostly finished with the photographers and reporters, I can relax and take in the lobby as we enter. It’s beautiful, with gleaming marble floors and soaring ceilings adorned with sparkling chandeliers. The ballroom where the gala is being held is equally impressive. It’s a huge space, featuring intricate moldings, mirrored accents, and even more extravagant chandeliers. A table with various objects placed on it runs down the side of the room. Cole had mentioned a silent auction, so it must be for that.

“It’s an amazing space,” I murmur, my gaze roaming over the ornate ceiling.

“It is.”

I smile up at him. Does he actually seem . . . relaxed? The tension from before seems to have gone, and something akin to a spark of warmth resides in his gaze.

“I like watching you looking at architecture,” he says.

I cock my head. “Why?”

“Your eyes light up, and your whole body becomes animated.”

“Oh.” Warmth unfolds in my chest. That was the last thing I expected to hear from him.

His gaze holds mine. “Your passion is a beautiful thing.”

My breath catches in my throat as something shimmers in the air between us—a connection I never would have believed possible. And yet, it’s there.

Maybe I should have known my relationship with Paul was doomed. He’d never once bothered to share his appreciation for me the way Cole just did. Any time we went somewhere with amazing architecture, he was too busy lecturing me about his expert opinion to care about my response to it.

“Thank you.” I don’t know what else to say, so I force my gaze away from him and look at the people filling the vast room.

Cole was right. Everyone here is rich and powerful, and they’re not shy about showing it. Expensive suits and designer dresses, jewels dripping from necks, wrists, and ears, laughs that sound a little too loud, as if only uttered to draw attention. It’s completely different from anything I’m used to.

Cole leans down and whispers, “Stay by my side or you’ll have all the unmarried men trying to take you home tonight. Probably half of the married ones as well.” When I glance up at him, there’s no humor in his expression. “Let’s find our table.” He urges me forward, his large hand spanning the small of my back.

We weave our way through the crowd until Cole spots our designated table at the front of the room, and I wonder if the positioning is deliberate. Do the big billionaires sit at the front and the little billionaires get relegated to the back?

I stifle a laugh, then quickly straighten my face when Cole glances at me with a raised brow.

He pulls out my seat and I try to sink into it as gracefully as possible. Then he sits next to me.

A server materializes by our side. “Can I get you something to drink this evening?”

Cole turns to me. “Would you like champagne or something else?”

Champagne would be nice, but the bubbles are bound to go to my head, and I need to keep my senses about me tonight. “I’ll have a glass of white wine, thank you.”

Cole orders two glasses of white and the server rushes off, dodging and weaving his way through the crowd. He’s soon back with our glasses, and I thank him with a grateful smile, getting a grin and a wink in response. Cole mutters something under his breath and casually rests his arm along the back of my chair.

We’re soon joined at the table by some other couples, mostly older than Cole and me. They greet him familiarly, and Cole introduces me as his colleague, which isn’t really true. He probably says it to ensure people don’t think I’m his date, or God forbid, his girlfriend.

The final couple joins the table, and although there’s no obvious physical reaction from Cole, I swear tension seems to roll off him as they sit opposite us. His greeting seems pleasant enough, however, as he nods in their direction. “Jessica, Tom.”

The couple seems about Cole’s age. The blandly good-looking man reminds me of a Ken doll, and the woman is a complete knockout. She’s blonde, tall, and curvy, and her black dress shows off every single one of those curves. Her pale blue eyes fix on Cole.

“I wasn’t sure you were coming tonight,” she says to him. “You usually let me know.”

“Roman originally accepted the invitation, but he has other business to attend to.”

He doesn’t say anything about why he didn’t let her know he was coming. And what does that mean, anyway? Surely she’s not his girlfriend, considering they’re both here with other people.

I look at Cole, but he keeps his attention fixed on Jessica.

She shifts in her chair, her gaze briefly flicking to me. “Who’s your date tonight?”

“This is Delilah. She’s an architect working on the new hotel chain. I brought her to look at the Chicago site.”

I smile at Jessica, and although she smiles back, it’s brittle around the edges.

“How convenient,” she murmurs.

We’re spared further conversation with Jessica and her date when the emcee takes to the stage to talk about the schedule for tonight, which includes numerous courses of food and a lot of mingling, followed by the silent auction and then dancing. A casual Friday night for billionaires.

Once everyone is seated, the first course is brought out. It’s caviar, artfully dolloped on some fancy-looking lettuce leaves. I try it because I’ve never had it before, then do my best not to screw up my nose. I quietly panic. Is it considered rude if I don’t eat it?

Cole’s thigh presses against mine as he murmurs in my ear, “Don’t eat it if you don’t like it. It’s an acquired taste.”

“Let me guess.” I tilt my face up to his. “You’ve acquired it?”

He shrugs. “I wasn’t given much of a choice when I was a child.”

I look down at the pile of shiny black fish eggs. “I can’t believe your parents gave this to you as a kid. I used to kick up a fuss when Mom made me eat my beans.”

The corners of his mouth turn up. “My brothers and I were expected to gain an appreciation for the finer things in life early on, whether we wanted to or not.”

I try to picture Cole as a child, forcing down caviar at the dinner table because it was expected. A pang of sadness hits me. I don’t know anything about his upbringing, so I’m probably making a huge assumption, but somehow it doesn’t seem like the act of loving parents. I touch his arm. “I’m sorry. That doesn’t sound very nice.”

He looks down at my hand, then up at my face. The strange intensity in his eyes has my stomach flipping over. Then he shakes his head and gives me a tilted smile. “Only you would pity me for my childhood of eating incredibly expensive food, Delilah.”

My cheeks heat, but the way he’s still looking at me makes my breath catch in my throat. As I turn away, Jessica catches my attention. Her eyes are on Cole, and she’s frowning. There’s definitely something going on there, but what? Is she his ex? Or does she want a relationship with him, and he’s not interested?

I’m distracted by a server who whisks away my mostly untouched plate. It’s soon replaced by something far more appetizing: a small serving of salmon ravioli with a saffron cream sauce. It’s delicious and I hum with approval as I lick the sauce from my lips.

Cole leans toward me again. “Keep that up and I’ll demand an answer sooner.” His low, raspy voice sends a thrill through me.

I throw him a wide-eyed look. Then, and I’m not sure why I do it, I hold his gaze and deliberately lick my lips again.

I almost laugh at the look on his face, but the way my body reacts to the dark, sinful expression that takes hold of his features is anything but funny. It promises retribution of the darkest, most decadent kind. And suddenly, I wonder why I’m hesitating about this.

We’re here for one night. I’m dressed up and looking as good as I’ll ever look, and Cole is . . . Well, Cole is Cole. He always looks incredible. But right now, he’s looking at me like he wants to eat me alive, and I’m pretty sure I’m looking at him like I want him to.

I lean toward him, and the flare of his pupils causes breathless excitement to radiate through me. “What if I’m ready to give you my answer now?”

He lets out a slow, controlled breath. “Don’t.”

I blink. “But I thought—”

“Don’t tell me until I’m in a position to do something about it. If you tell me now, I’ll pull up your skirt under the table, bury my fingers in you, and make you come in front of all these people.”

A shudder wracks me and I close my eyes for a beat because a small, hidden part of me wants him to do just that—to claim me in front of all these people. But I sink back in my chair. A fantasy is one thing. The reality would be quite different.

“I’ll tell you when you can answer me,” Cole says, and I nod. I’m sure my arousal must be visible to everyone at the table, and I stare fixedly at the remains of the food on my plate until that too is whisked away.

Two more courses come and go before the emcee tells us there’ll be a short break to allow for mingling.

Cole is immediately out of his chair, taking my hand to pull me behind him.

“Cole, I want to talk to you about . . .” Jessica’s voice trails off behind us as Cole tugs me away from the table. I only glimpse the hard expression on her face from the corner of my eye as I try not to stumble in my heels.

“How do you know Jessica?” I ask.

Cole’s hand tightens around mine, but he doesn’t turn his head. “She’s the daughter of one of our biggest investors.”

My feet start to drag. “Did you two have a relationship? Because I get the impression she’s annoyed you’re here with me.”

This time he meets my gaze over his shoulder. “I’ve never had a relationship with Jessica. We’ve spent a lot of time together at these kinds of events, though.”

Tension at the base of my neck eases. She must just be annoyed that I’m monopolizing the person she would normally pass the time with.

Cole leads me through a door set in the side of the ballroom. “Where are we going?” I ask as the crowd noise fades behind us. “Are we allowed down here?”

“I am,” he says, and I almost roll my eyes.

He drags me into an alcove and spins me around, pressing my back against the wall and bracing his hands on either side of my shoulders. “You have something you want to tell me.” The grit in his voice has tendrils of need tightening into a hot knot inside me.

He said he only wanted to hear my answer when he could do something about it. So what exactly is he planning to do here, in this semi-public place?

My heart thrashes in my chest, my nipples pressing hard and tight against the thin material of my dress.

Throwing caution to the wind, I tilt my head back and look him straight in the eye. “Yes.”

He doesn’t misunderstand me or ask for clarification. He knows exactly what I’m saying.

His lips crash against mine as he takes possession of my mouth, and I’m consumed by the flash fire of heat that flares between us.

I arch into him as one of his hands leaves the wall and smooths down my back to my ass, cupping it and jerking me toward him so I’m pressed against the long, hard ridge in his pants. I shamelessly rub against it, making him groan deep in his throat.

He inches his hand down and gathers up my dress, dragging it up my legs and bunching it in his hand until it’s high enough that he can slide his fingers underneath it and into the tiny scrap of lace that makes up my thong.

He pulls back to watch my face as he makes contact with my clit, already swollen and pulsing, waiting for his touch.

I gasp and shudder as he rolls his thumb over it, and I know it won’t be long until I’m coming apart under his touch. I should be embarrassed, but I’m not. And considering how blown his pupils are—the blue of his irises nothing but a thin ring around the black—he doesn’t mind at all that I’m already hovering on the edge.

One long finger thrusts into me and I almost cry out, but thankfully he covers my mouth with his own, muffling the desperate sound.

His fingers and thumb move in tandem, and my hips roll into the movement as I race to find my release. Sparks shimmer behind my closed lids and I’m so close—

“Cole?” a female voice calls from down the hallway. “Cole, are you down here? One of the servers told me he saw you come this way.”

I freeze, blinking up at Cole. Anger rolls off him in icy waves, and his hand slows but doesn’t stop. I’m caught, hanging on the edge. If he speeds up his movements, it will fling me over. Considering the woman calling out to Cole is coming closer, I’m not sure I want to be flung right now.

The last thing I need is some stranger watching me orgasm on my employer’s fingers.

“Cole? I really have to talk to you about my father.” The voice is closer now.

For the briefest moment, Cole works his fingers faster and I think he’s going to do it. I think he’s going to make me come anyway. My body tightens in involuntary pleasure, squeezing his fingers, and I widen my eyes, shaking my head.

He growls but pulls his fingers from me, reaching up and smearing them over my lips before taking my mouth in another fierce kiss.

“A little appetizer for later,” he mutters into my ear.

Then he’s stepping back, and I’m frantically straightening my dress, trying to put myself back together.

Apart from the dark dilation of his eyes and the flush on the arches of his cheekbones, he looks just as put together as before, although I notice his fingers still glisten with my arousal. He hasn’t wiped them off—probably unwilling to smear bodily fluids onto his expensive suit or my dress.

It’s too late to say anything, though, because he tugs me out of the alcove, and we come face to face with Jessica.

She smiles, but it stops short of her eyes. “There you are. I need to talk to you about something I overheard my father discussing.”

She can’t be oblivious to what she interrupted, and I should be alarmed that any mention of what Cole and I were doing might get out, but at the moment I’m just frustrated and horny. I don’t know this woman, but right now, I’m pretty sure I actively dislike her.

“I’m not really interested in talking business right now, Jessica,” Cole says. “Can it wait until we’re back in New York?”

She lives in New York too?

“Oh, I suppose so,” she says. I wonder if it was all just an excuse to hunt down Cole and interrupt what he was doing with me. They might not have had a relationship, but it feels like she wishes they did, regardless of the man she left at the table.

“Let’s get back then,” Cole says, gesturing for Jessica to lead the way.

She gives me a look that rakes over me as if it has claws of its own before heading back the way we’d come. With her back turned, Cole takes the opportunity to run his tongue over the fingers he just had inside me, holding my gaze the whole time. “Who needs dessert?”

My stomach swoops. Even more so when he takes my hand and leads me back to the main room.

Interruption aside, I’ve just had a small taste of what I’m in for tonight.

And I think I might be in trouble.