Coldhearted King: Chapter 44

The driver pulls up, and I sit there for a moment, taking in the house that Delilah grew up in. It’s small, but the front yard is well maintained, with flowers and shrubs planted in beds around the front porch.

It’s funny. I can’t imagine growing up here, but I can picture Delilah as a child as clear as day, running through the sprinklers during the heat of summer, kneeling side by side with her mother as they planted flowers, helping her mom carry the groceries up the porch steps. Simple things. Things she might have taken for granted. Things I’d give anything to have experienced because maybe it would be easier for me to know how to be with her. How to give her what she needs.

I tell the driver to wait for me further down the street, then I climb out of the car. I’m wearing a suit, which may have been a mistake in hindsight, but it’s too late now.

I stride to the front door, wondering if anyone will be home. If Delilah is even staying here. I assumed she would, but I don’t know for sure. I’ll find out soon.

I knock and wait. When footsteps sound on the other side of the door, my heart pounds against my ribs, hoping I’ll get to see her again for the first time in far too long. But when the door opens, it’s not her. Although, if I were to guess what Delilah will look like in twenty years or so, this would be what I would imagine.

She’s petite, dark-haired, and with the same cat-like eyes as her daughter, although hers are blue. Does Delilah get those green eyes from her father? The man that rejected her in favor of his wealth and position—just like I did.

I push that thought aside. I need to focus.

The woman looking up at me purses her lips and crosses her arms. She obviously knows exactly who I am, and she is not impressed. “Delilah isn’t here, so you can get back on that private jet I’m sure you flew in on and fly right back home again.”

Getting past Delilah’s mom will be the first challenge, but not one I plan to back down from. “Sorry, ma’am. I can’t do that.”

She narrows her eyes. “And why is that? You have everything you need back in New York. Your fancy penthouse, your fancy cars, all your money. Your fiancée. Leave my daughter alone and let her get over you in peace.”

Sharing my feelings with a stranger is normally the last thing I would do, but now’s not the time to hold back. “I don’t have a fiancée, and I definitely don’t have everything I need. Because I need Delilah. I need her, and without her, everything else is meaningless.”

She studies me, a line forming between her brows. Then she steps back. “If you won’t leave, you might as well come in.”

A silent breath rushes out of me, and I step over the threshold, taking in the well-worn furniture and the small, functional kitchen off to the side. Bright throw pillows on the couch and sketches of flowers on the wall give it a cozy, lived-in feel.

“Would you like tea or coffee?” she says.

“Just some water, thank you,” I reply.

“I only have tap water.” Her chin is raised as if she thinks I’ll make a fuss over her lack of anything fancier.

I smile. “Tap water is fine.”

The corners of her lips give a faint twitch, and I take that as a win.

She goes to the kitchen and returns with a glass, which she sets on a coaster on the small wooden coffee table. Assuming that’s an invitation to sit, I do, and she settles in the armchair opposite me.

I’ve been in a lot of high-pressure meetings with very powerful people, but I don’t think I’ve ever sweated more than I am under the piercing gaze of Delilah’s mom. It’s the look of a mother who wants nothing more than to protect her child. It’s a look I never got to see growing up, but I like that Delilah did. I like knowing that even without her father in the picture, she knew she was loved and protected.

I want to be the person who loves and protects her now. I haven’t done a good job so far, but I’m going to change that.

“Okay. Let me hear it,” she says. I frown, and Delilah’s mom shakes her head. “What are you hoping to achieve by coming here, Mr. King?”

“It’s Cole,” I say, and she nods, but her stony façade doesn’t change, and she doesn’t offer her name in exchange. I let out a breath. Hopefully she’ll hear the honesty in my voice. “I made a mistake. I hurt her, and there is no acceptable excuse for what I did. I don’t know if I can make it right or if Delilah can find it in her heart to forgive me, but I’m going to try anyway. I want to give her everything she’s ever wanted. Everything she’s ever dreamed of. I want to know what it’s like to wake up with her every morning and go to sleep with her every night. I want a life of loving her. I’m not sure what it will take to show her I’ll never make the mistake of leaving her ever again, but that’s what I’m here to figure out.”

During my speech, her face softens, and by the time I finish, I swear there’s the glimmer of a smile on her face. “Well, you’re here, and that’s a good first step. Can I ask what happened to the woman you were planning to marry? Did you leave her brokenhearted too?”

That’s a loaded question if ever I heard one. “You have to understand, Ms. West—”

“Beth,” she says, and my hopes rise a little higher.

“Beth,” I acknowledge before continuing. “You have to understand that marriage isn’t about love in my world. It’s about alliances. It’s about trading power and influence. I never loved Jessica, and I can guarantee she never loved me. Her feelings might have been hurt when I broke it off, but more likely her ego and definitely not her heart.”

“So why did you agree to it in the first place? You must have known Delilah had feelings for you and that your decision would hurt her.”

A trickle of sweat makes its way down my back. I’m not painting myself in the best light here, but there’s nothing to do but forge on. “Because I believed love wasn’t important for people like me. I thought it was the one thing we didn’t get to have.”

She watches me intently. “Are you saying you believe differently now?”

I picture Delilah making me grilled cheese in my barely used kitchen. I picture her with her face lit up as she talked about her designs. I remember how she stood up to my mother without even blinking. I see her smile and hear her laugh and remember the silk of her skin and the sound of her gasps.

I look her mother right in the eye. “Now I believe love is there if you look for it, regardless of who you are, and if you’re lucky enough to find it, you hold on to it with everything you have. I think the only people who don’t deserve love are those who refuse to believe in it, even when it’s right there in front of them.”

A slow smile breaks across her face. “Well then,” she says, softly. “Delilah never did do things by half.”

I’m not exactly sure what she means, but the smile she gives me makes me think I’ve convinced her I’m here for the right reasons.

“Of course, that’s the easy part,” she says. “Now you have to convince her. Do you have a plan for that? Or are you going to wing it the way you just did?”

I grimace. “To be honest, I haven’t thought past getting to see her again.”

There’s a noise outside, and she looks toward the front door. “Well, I think you’re going to get your chance.”