Coldhearted King: Chapter 33

I’m smiling as I initial the latest set of internal plans. I seem to do that a lot lately, smile at nothing. And the reason is about six foot two inches, dark-haired and blue-eyed, with a dick that doesn’t quit. I laugh to myself. I really am going off the deep end.

It can’t be a bad thing to be so happy that I’m smiling and laughing to myself, can it? As long as I don’t let myself forget that this thing Cole and I have won’t last forever.

But there’s a part of me, the part that watched too many Disney movies when I was little, that can’t help but hope that might change. I’ve noticed a difference in Cole over the last few weeks—since that lunch with his family. A softening. A warmth where once there wasn’t. It’s like he’s slowly peeling away the layers of his coldhearted persona, revealing the man underneath. And as it turns out, I can’t get enough of that man.

The sex is still intense. We’ve done it all over his penthouse, twice in his limo with Cole’s hand over my mouth so Jonathan couldn’t hear me, and in his office one night when we were working late. Then there are the moments when he seems almost tender—when he holds me in his arms or strokes the hair away from my face and presses soft kisses to my lips.

He’s started laughing more too, helped me cook several times, and shared quite a few more bottles of expensive wine with me. On the nights I go home to my apartment, he always kisses me before I leave. But just as often, we end up falling asleep next to each other in his big bed.

I’m still scared to allow myself to get my hopes up, only to be disappointed.

Although I don’t think disappointed is the right word anymore.

My phone rings and Cole’s name flashes on the screen. A thrill runs through me. I hope he’s calling me up to his office so we can see each other today. I haven’t seen him since the weekend, and it’s Tuesday now. Stupidly, I miss him. I’m supposed to go to his penthouse tomorrow night, but I’d love to see him sooner.

“Hi.” My voice comes out breathier than I’d like, but he seems to have that effect on me. And surprisingly, I don’t hate it.

“Delilah.” His voice is a little brusquer than I’d hoped, but that’s him, and I’m learning to accept it.

“Yes. Do you need to see me?” I wince. That came out a little too eagerly.

“I’d like to, but I’m heading into a meeting with the board. I just wanted to let you know that I have to fly to the UK tonight, so I won’t be able to see you tomorrow.”

“Oh . . .” My stomach drops. “That’s . . . okay. Has something happened?”

“The lawyers just informed us the prosecutors are going to offer Dad a final plea bargain. If he rejects it, he’s going to trial. Whatever the result, it’s going to have an impact. I’m heading to the UK to prep our international offices and handle whatever concerns our overseas investors might have after the news breaks. Cole and Tate will take care of any issues here.”

“Of course. Do you think you’ll be okay? You know, with whatever happens?”

He’s silent for a moment. “I want to feel bad for him, but I don’t doubt for a second that he’s guilty, and that makes me realize just how dead our relationship is. He cares more about his mistresses than he’s ever cared about his family—and that’s not saying much, considering how many mistresses he’s had. So I’m returning the favor. I don’t care what happens to him. I only care about what it means for the company.”

My heart twists painfully. I didn’t have a father while growing up, but my mother gave me all the love I ever needed. Cole had two parents and two brothers, yet he didn’t have any of the love I did. No wonder he doesn’t trust relationships. When has he ever had one worth trusting? When has anyone ever been there for him unconditionally? “Do you know how long you’ll be gone for?”

“At this stage, I plan to fly back next Thursday.”

Just over a week. I let out a quiet breath. Before Cole, I had no problem being by myself or hanging out with Alex. Even when I was dating Paul and he went away to a symposium for a week, I didn’t bat an eyelash. I just took the opportunity to spend more time on the project I was working on. This is different.

My feelings for Cole are different.

“I’ll get back late.” He interrupts my thoughts. “So make sure you’re free Friday.”

“I’ll see if I can pencil you in.” I roll my lips together.

“You will, will you? I assumed you’d be wide open for me on Friday.”

“Oh, no.” I match his suggestive tone. “I fill up very quickly.”

“Fuck.” He lets out a groan. “If my meeting wasn’t about to start, I’d have you up here and bent over my desk before you could say, ‘I’m always open for you, Cole.’”

I laugh, then lower my voice to a purr. “I’m always open for you, Cole.”

He curses again. “I have to leave straight after the meeting, but I’ll message you when I get a chance.”

I sigh. “Okay. Well, have a good flight. And I hope everything goes well.”

He says goodbye and I hang up. I get straight back to work, but there’s a heaviness in my chest that wasn’t there before. I missed him after only a few days. Now it’ll be almost two weeks before I see him again.

A few minutes later, my email notification sounds. Clicking it open, I see a message from Samson.

Good afternoon, Miss West,

Mr. King has asked that you not make any plans for this weekend. You are to pack an overnight bag, casual wear only, and a car will pick you up at 8 a.m. Saturday morning.

Kind regards,

Samson

I frown and pick up the phone.

“Hi, Samson,” I say, when he answers. “I just got your email, and I was wondering if you could give me more details. Cole didn’t say anything about this to me, and I’m not sure what to expect. Can you tell me what kind of event this is for? I’d like to prepare.”

“I’m sorry, Miss West. Cole didn’t give me any details.”

I glance at the clock. “Has he already gone into his meeting?”

“Yes, he has.”

“Okay, thank you.”

I hang up and stare at the email again. What has Cole arranged? I shoot him a quick message on his phone. It will be off during the meeting, but he’ll get it as soon as he finishes.

Then I try to put it out of my mind so I can get some work done.

Two hours later my phone buzzes and I grab it, opening the message from Cole.

What does he mean?

I furiously type back.

I hesitate before I respond. I do trust him, don’t I? As disconcerting as it is to go into something blind like this, Cole wouldn’t send me anywhere that would make me uncomfortable.

I fight the urge to end my message with something else—something more affectionate. Or to call him just to hear his voice again. I don’t want to be needy like that, even though it’s becoming harder and harder to fight wanting more with him.

I finish up the rest of the day, trying to force down both my sadness at not seeing him and my curiosity about this weekend. I have the apartment to myself, since Alex is in LA for the whole week, visiting Jaxson. She finally admitted how much she missed him, and he leaped into action, organizing his schedule so he’d have some time to spend with her. I’m sure she’s having an amazing time, so even though I wish I could talk to her about Cole, I won’t call her. Her time with Jaxson is precious, and I don’t want to take away from that by having a long phone conversation.

I eat dinner with a glass of wine in front of the television and then call it an early night. Well, an early night for me, anyway, only working for two hours on my laptop before turning the lights out.

The rest of the week passes quickly. We’re nearing deadlines, so the whole team has their heads down as we try to get our plans signed off. Cole has messaged me every day, but we haven’t spoken on the phone. I know he’s busy, and when he’s not in meetings, he’s out at various dinners and social events. Though I’m happy he’s messaging me so regularly, I wish I could hear his voice. Once or twice I’ve considered calling him, but every time I pick up my phone, ready to dial his number, I end up putting it down again. If I call him, my voice will betray how much I miss him.

He’ll know how I feel.

But now that it’s Saturday, and I’m standing outside my building with my overnight bag at my feet, I really wish I’d gotten the chance to talk to him and grill him some more about where I’m going. I meant it when I said I trusted him, though, which is funny. If you’d asked me a few months ago, I would have said he’s the last man on earth I’d trust.

Well, except for my father.

Cole’s sleek black car pulls up in front of me, and Jonathan gets out with a smile.

“Good morning, Miss West,” he says, picking up my bag for me.

“Morning, Jonathan.” He opens my door, and when I slide in, he shuts it behind me, then places my bag in the trunk. As soon as he returns to the driver’s seat, and before he pulls out into traffic, I lean forward and ask, “I don’t suppose you know where I’m going?”

His gaze meets mine in the rearview mirror, the creases at the corners of his eyes revealing his smile. “I’m afraid I don’t. Cole just told me to take you to the airfield.”

“I’m flying somewhere?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says.

I sink back into the plush leather seat as Jonathan maneuvers the big car into the stream of traffic. I spend the rest of the trip trying to guess where I might be going. Although the thought that Cole might fly me to the UK to see him is nice, it’s blatantly unrealistic. I’ve only packed an overnight bag, and flying to the other side of the world and back for one night seems like a huge waste of resources, even for a billionaire.

If it’s work related, surely he would have told me. He could be sending me to a relaxing spa, although that doesn’t really seem like Cole’s style. Then again, nothing about this really screams “emotionally unavailable billionaire only interested in a no-strings-attached sexual relationship.”

I try to distract myself during the flight by reading a romance, but my mind wanders to where I might be going, then to Cole and what’s happening between us. My thoughts run in circles until the captain announces we’re beginning our descent. The flight was only about an hour and a half, which raises a niggling suspicion in me.

After we land at a small airfield I don’t recognize, I descend the stairs, and the scent of the air is so familiar I know my suspicion must be true. Emotions swirl through me, but I hold them in until I know for sure. There’s a limo waiting for me, and I laugh to myself that Cole thinks I need a car like this when a normal sedan would do. Hell, an Uber would do. But this is who he is, and my chest floods with warmth because he’s organized this for me.

The driver takes my bag with a nod, then holds my door open. Once he’s shut it behind me, he places my bag in the trunk, then climbs into the driver’s seat. He seems to know where he’s going, so I sit back and look out the window. Soon I see familiar sights, and my suspicion is confirmed. I’m smiling so broadly I can feel it in my cheeks as I pull out my phone and tap out a message to Cole.

I’m not expecting a response, and I shove my phone back in my purse, eagerly looking out the window. Happiness buzzes in my veins as we get closer and closer to our destination. When the car pulls up outside the small, single-story house with all the pretty flowers in the front yard, tears well up in my eyes. The driver stops the engine, and I throw the door open and dash up the path.

Mom must have heard the car pull up, because the door opens and she rushes out. “Delilah.” Her voice is breathless with shock, but delight wreaths her face.

“Mom!” I wrap my arms around her and breathe in the subtle scent of lilacs that drifts from her skin, the result of the lotion she applies every single morning.

I pull back, scanning her face, which is so like mine. I’ve always been glad there’s hardly any of my father in me. Only the color of my eyes—green to my mother’s blue—marks me as his daughter.

“I’m so happy to see you,” Mom says. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

I laugh. “I’m happy to be here, and I didn’t tell you because I didn’t know.”

Her brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“Let’s go inside and I’ll tell you.”

Mom nods, but her gaze goes over my shoulder, a quizzical expression crossing her face.

I glance behind me and see the driver standing there with my bag. He holds it out to me. “Mr. King’s instructions are for me to pick you up at three p.m. tomorrow for your return flight.”

I take it with a smile. “Thank you.”

He nods, then heads back down the path to the car while Mom regards me with raised brows.

“I’ll explain,” I say.

Her lips quirk. “Let’s get you inside, then.”

Every time I come home it feels like I’ve never left. It’s been months since I’ve visited, but the familiar creak of the front door and the smell of freshly cut flowers and furniture polish fills my senses. I breathe in deeply, taking it all in. As always, everything looks the same—the comfortable, well-worn floral couch, the small TV in the corner, the childhood photos of me that adorn the shelves. Warmth and comfort washes over me.

“I still can’t believe you’re here,” Mom says. “Why don’t I make us a cup of tea, and you can tell me everything.”

“Let me just put my bag in my room and I’ll help,” I say. My old bedroom is just down the short hallway. After I drop my bag on the familiar single bed, I join Mom in the kitchen. While I fill the kettle, she puts some cookies on a plate in a routine that takes me straight back in time to when it was the two of us living here. On odd occasions, I catch her smiling at me as we move around the kitchen. We sit next to each other on the small couch when we’ve finished.

After we both take a sip of our tea, Mom smiles at me. “Tell me how you’re here and why you didn’t know you were coming.”

I let out a breath. “Well, I’ve been seeing someone. Kind of.”

Her brows furrow. “Kind of?”

I look down and brush an imaginary speck of lint off my jeans. “It’s just casual. And I’m not sure it’s going anywhere . . .”

“Why wouldn’t it go anywhere? I mean, you’re smart, you’re beautiful. Why wouldn’t any man want to be with you?”

I put my cup on the coffee table and reach for a cookie. “Because he has . . . other priorities.”

She frowns. “Like what?”

“His job. He’s very focused on that at the moment, and that’s okay. He has to be.” I hurry to add that last bit, in case it sounds like that upsets me. That’s not the issue for me.

“What does he do?”

I really don’t want to lie to Mom, but I know what her reaction will be. Still, I might as well get it over and done with.

“He’s an executive.”

“You’re being very vague. What does an executive mean exactly?”

“Well. He’s the COO of the King Group.”

Mom’s eyes narrow slightly. “Isn’t that the company you’re working for at the moment?”

“Yes.”

“But you don’t work directly for him, do you?”

I let out a sigh. “I’m still working for Elite, but the King Group is our client and we’re working out of their building.”

Mom’s mouth twists. “Oh, Delilah. Is that a good idea after what happened with Paul? Surely you could get in trouble if anyone finds out. Both of you could.”

I wet my lips. “Probably not him, since he’s one of the company’s owners.”

Mom’s mouth works but she doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. Then it comes out in a rush. “Delilah, you know what men like that are after. The minute they get everything they want from you, they’ll bail. They don’t want to marry you. They just want to use you until it gets too complicated or someone more suitable comes along.”

I reach for her hand and squeeze it. “It’s not like that with us, Mom. He’s not like Dad. He hasn’t lied to me about his intentions or pretended to be in love with me, and I’m not expecting a ring or anything like that.”

A furrow appears between her brows. “Then why be with him if you already know he doesn’t want a future with you? Why not find a normal man who’ll want to settle down and have a family? I know you’re too young to think about that right now, but why risk your heart for a man who’ll never be interested in more?”

“We’re just having fun.” Although, that’s not quite true anymore. I push down my guilt at not being honest with her. “I’ve spent so long working so hard. It’s nice to let go and enjoy myself for once. And Cole . . . He forces me to do that. I like it. Plus, he’s the one who organized for me to fly here this weekend as a surprise.”

“Ah. That’s who Mr. King is, then?”

I nod and Mom’s face softens. “I know how hard you’ve worked, sweetheart. And how much you’ve achieved. I want you to have fun. I want you to enjoy your youth. I just don’t want you to waste your heart on someone who doesn’t deserve it. And men like that . . .” She shakes her head. “Men with power and wealth, they don’t live the same way as the rest of us, and they don’t care about anyone who isn’t in their world.”

“Cole’s not like that.” I pause because again, that’s not quite true. “I mean, obviously he lives a different life from most people, but he cares. Otherwise, why would he have sent me here?”

She presses her lips together, her eyes searching mine. Then she lets out a sigh. “You know I don’t regret what happened with your father because you are the best thing that ever happened to me, but I don’t want you to go through the pain of realizing you’ve given your heart to someone not worthy of it.” One corner of her mouth turns up. “But then, you’ve got a far better head on your shoulders than I did when I was younger. I let myself get swept up in your dad’s charisma and all the attention and excitement of being with someone like him. I just think you should be careful. Okay?”

“I will, Mom, I promise. I know exactly what this is, so I won’t be upset when it ends.” The lie pinches inside my chest.

Worry still shimmers in her eyes, but she smiles gently. “Well, that’s all I can ask for.”

LATER THAT NIGHT, I’m lying in bed and finally have time to look at my phone. When I see the message notification, I quickly swipe the screen.

The three dots blink on the screen, disappear, then reappear again. Why is it taking him so long to reply?

Finally, his message pops up.

Memories shuttle through my brain and heat sweeps over my skin. Not the reaction I need to have when I’m all alone in my childhood bed. Still, I wonder if that’s what he was going to say all along, or if he changed his mind halfway through replying. Maybe he planned to say something along the lines of “that sounds like my worst nightmare.”

My finger hovers over the keypad before I give in to the ever-building pressure in my chest and add, “I miss you.”

The bubbles appear and disappear, then stop completely. I puff out a breath. I shouldn’t have said anything.

I turn out my light and stare up at the dark ceiling, wishing I could take back my words. But a few minutes later, my phone beeps again. I pick it up and read the message with a smile so big I feel it spreading over my face.