Coldhearted King: Chapter 27

I put the finishing touches on the interior plan I’m working on and try to keep my mind off the fact Cole canceled on me this weekend. After all, as I told Alex, this is only meant to be casual. I need to take things as they come instead of investing too much time and effort on trying to figure out what’s going on in his head.

Still, disappointment followed me around for the rest of the weekend after he called on Saturday morning and said something had come up. I’d been looking forward to seeing him.

I draw one final line on the plan and click print. I’m unpleasantly aware of Paul lingering on the far side of the room. I can sense his eyes on me, and I’m not sure why. He’s mostly kept his distance since our meeting in his office, apart from when he’s had something work-related to discuss with me.

My stomach rumbles and I check the time. It’s well past lunch and I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast. I head to the kitchen to get the salad I made this morning, but just as I close the fridge door, Paul corners me. When I try to side-step him, he puts his hand on my arm and holds me back. I look down at his hand before returning my attention to his face. He smiles, but there’s an edge to it I don’t like.

“I need to talk to you about something,” he says.

“Can we do it at my desk?”

“I don’t want anyone else around when I show you this,” he says, holding up his phone.

I can’t help but look, and when I do, my heart does a painful stutter. It’s a photo of Cole kissing a blonde woman. He’s dressed in a tuxedo and his hands are circling the woman’s slender waist, while she has her arms wound around his neck. I keep my expression neutral, not wanting Paul to get a reaction from me, particularly since I’ve never confirmed that Cole and I are spending time together. And after all, there are lots of photos out there of Cole with various women. “I don’t know why you’re showing this to me.”

“Don’t you?” he says, a nasty smile flitting at the corners of his lips. “That’s funny. I got the impression there was something going on between you two, so of course when I saw this photo from Friday night, I thought I should let you know. My mistake, I guess.”

My stomach drops. From Friday night? It couldn’t be. Cole didn’t say anything about taking a date to the event, and we had an agreement. We’re meant to be exclusive while we’re . . . doing whatever it is we’re doing. Is this why he canceled on me? Was he with her instead?

Paul swipes his screen casually. “She’s quite the looker.” He flashes his phone in front of my face again, and this time the photo is of the woman about to climb into Cole’s car. He has his hand on her back, but that isn’t the only reason pain slices through me. It’s the woman’s face. Because it’s one I recognize. Jessica. A woman Cole had assured me he didn’t have a relationship with before I slept with him for the second time.

I’m so stupid. Of course he said that. If someone asked him about me, he’d probably say the same thing. Because we’re not in a relationship. We’re screwing. Fucking. Scratching an itch. I’m sure that’s how he sees it, anyway.

I force my lips into an unconcerned smile. “Even if there was something going on between Cole and me, you’d be the last person I’d want help from. So if that’s all . . .” I push past him and head back to my desk, but nausea swirls in my stomach and I no longer feel like eating the salad I’m holding.

My food sits uneaten next to me as I grab my phone and navigate to the website Paul showed me. Like some kind of masochist, I flick through the photos. There aren’t that many, just four, but what they show is damning. The two of them arriving together, Cole’s hand possessively on her back. And then their departure and the kiss before he helps her into his limo. If I know Cole, he probably fucked her in the back of it or took her back to his penthouse to screw the hell out of her there.

I put my phone face down on my desk, heat prickling the backs of my eyes. I’m not sure if it’s worse that he didn’t try to hide it. At least Paul hid his cheating from me because he didn’t want to lose me. Apparently, Cole doesn’t care if I find out.

Unable to sit there one more second, I shove my container of salad into my bag and log off my computer. Paul loiters nearby, probably waiting to see what chaos he’s caused. Unfortunately, there’s no leaving without talking to him, so I make my way over. “I’m not feeling well. I’m going to work from home for the rest of the day.”

The fake sympathy on his face turns my stomach, but I hold myself together.

“No problem. I hope you’re feeling better tomorrow.” He’s all toothy smile, and I picture slapping it off him even as I hold his gaze with my chin high.

I turn and walk away as calmly as I can but as soon as I get into the elevator, my shoulders slump. I can’t believe I was so stupid. Men like Cole—like my father—are all the same. Once they get what they want, they discard you without a second thought.

The elevator dings and I step out, taking only a few steps before I see who’s standing there with a group of men. Outside of meetings or when he’s sought me out, I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen Cole around the building. I close my eyes. Of course it would be him.

He catches my eye and frowns, but I turn away and continue walking to the entrance.

“Miss West.” His voice comes from behind me, and I curse to myself. I don’t have a choice but to stop. He’s still my boss and I’m at my place of work.

I take a deep breath, then turn to face him. He says something to the group of men, then walks toward me. Anger wars with hurt in my chest as I wait for him.

He comes to a stop in front of me, a frown furrowing his brow. “What’s going on?” he asks in a low voice.

I finally meet his gaze head-on, the intensity of his stare hitting me like a punch to the chest. “What do you mean?”

“You barely looked at me as you passed, and it’s not like you to leave early.”

“I’m not feeling well. I’m going home.”

My pulse hammers, and I want to yell at him. To ask him how he could do something like that to me when I thought . . . Well, I thought wrong. Saying something like that is bound to be the quickest possible way to get fired, so I bottle it all up and push it down where it has to stay until I can be alone. Because I won’t lose everything I’ve worked for over this man.

His frown deepens. I glance over his shoulder to find the group of men he was with eyeing me with curiosity. One of them looks at his watch, then says something to the others.

I take a step away from Cole, hoping he’ll let me go, since his group is waiting for him.

“Delilah,” he growls. “Tell me what’s going on.”

The awareness glimmering in his eyes makes me think he knows exactly what’s going on. How can he not imagine there was a chance I’d see the photos?

But suddenly I want him to know. To realize it’s not okay to hurt people just because there are no repercussions for him.

The elevator behind him dings, and the men board it, holding the door open. “Cole?” one of them calls out.

I take another step backward. “I’ll see you later, Cole. I’m glad you and Jessica had a good time on Friday night.”

His jaw clenches, but he says nothing as I spin on my heel and make for the front door. My mouth is dry, and I need to get home so I can drown my sorrows. It’s mid-afternoon, but I’m giving myself permission to crack open a bottle of wine.

I step outside and take a deep breath. I can’t bear the thought of catching the train home, so I hail a cab. My phone beeps in my purse and I pull it out to see a message from Cole.

I stuff it back in my bag and blink back tears. What was I thinking? Honestly, how had I ever thought sleeping with him was a good idea? I’m such an idiot. Tears blur my vision, but I can’t be that woman crying in the back of a cab over a man. I won’t.

For all my determination, the moment the door of my apartment closes behind me, the dam bursts. Hot tears splash down my cheeks and I sink into my couch. Why am I this hurt? This wasn’t a real relationship. It was just sex. We were just enjoying each other’s bodies. Yes, he lied to me, but being stupid enough to believe him, to let myself feel more than I should . . . That’s on me.

More tears leak out and I wipe them away. God, this is ridiculous. I want to think it’s humiliation, and that’s definitely a part of it. No one likes being made a fool of, and this is the second time it’s happened to me. But the truth is, I’ve done exactly what I promised myself I wouldn’t.

I let myself start feeling things for Cole, and this is the consequence.

My phone beeps again, and when I see his name, I can’t stop myself from reading the message.

I huff out a breath. I’ll need to talk to him at some stage, to officially end this thing between us, but I want to be calm and in control when I do it so I don’t say something stupid and end up off the project and potentially out of a job. If I speak to him now, I won’t be anywhere near calm and in control.

My phone lights up with Cole’s name on the screen, but I decline the call. I don’t understand why he’s bothering. He hasn’t lost anything that he can’t easily replace. Why can’t he just leave me alone to take a breath and work through these emotions?

Another message notification and my eyes automatically drop to my phone’s screen.

Anger dries my tears. What is his problem?

A minute later, my phone rings again and I stare at it, a pulse throbbing in my temple as my temper rises even more. It feels good to let the anger take over. He’s rich and powerful and I’m technically working for him at the moment, but that doesn’t mean he gets to treat me like this. Like someone he can discard with thoughtless cruelty.

Before I have time to overthink it, I answer.

“Delilah,” he says.

“What is it you want to say, Cole?” I’m glad my voice is steady. Steadier than I feel, anyway.

“Why haven’t you responded to my messages?”

“Because I don’t want to talk to you.”

He lets out a sigh that seems to be made up of sheer irritation. “Obviously you saw the photos.”

His tone fuels my anger. “Yes.” It comes out through gritted teeth.

“It isn’t what you think.” There’s no apology in his voice. He doesn’t believe he’s done anything worth apologizing for. Or maybe it’s that I’m not worth apologizing to.

“Really? Do you mean it’s not you kissing another woman when you told me you wouldn’t be with anyone else while we were together? Or do you mean it isn’t you kissing Jessica, who you told me you weren’t involved with?”

“I told you that Jessica and I aren’t in a relationship, and we never have been.”

“I’m not stupid, Cole. You’re either straight up lying to me, or you’re lying by omission. I may not be that experienced with men, but I can guarantee that’s not how you kiss a woman who’s just an acquaintance.”

There’s a pause on the phone. He knows he’s been caught. “I have a shareholder meeting in half an hour that I can’t miss, but I’ll send Jonathan to get you tonight, and I’ll explain it to you,” he finally says.

“I’m not interested in seeing you.”

“Being immature about this isn’t helping.” His tone lowers. “At least give me the respect of listening to what I have to say.”

A bright flash goes off behind my eyes. “Respect? You’re talking to me about respect? You guessed I saw the photos, which is why you’ve been messaging me. Which means you already knew exactly how seeing them would make me feel, and you know that because it’s how most normal human beings would feel when they realize they’ve been played. So don’t make me out to be childish for reacting exactly the way you expected me to. My lack of response to your messages and phone calls should have told you I needed time to deal with my emotions, but you refused to give it to me. Instead, you’ve decided the best way to handle this is to harass me, then when I answer, you tell me I’m being immature.”

My fingers tighten around my phone. “I asked you straight to your face about Jessica, Cole. I wanted to know what I was getting myself into if I said yes to you. To protect myself from getting hurt. But rather than tell me the truth, you said what you needed to say to get what you wanted. You humiliated me. And you h-hurt me.” I was doing so well, but I lose it at the end as more tears well up.

“Delilah—”

I gather myself together. “No, Cole. I’m not done. You’re obviously used to getting what you want when you want it. You obviously don’t care what you have to do or say to get it. So, if what you wanted when you kissed Jessica Friday night was a quick and easy way to get rid of the immature workplace hookup that’s been hanging around a little too long, congratulations. You got it.”

With a trembling finger, I end the call, then slump back on the couch and let the tears fall.