Coldhearted King: Chapter 9

“Are you listening?” Roman’s voice brings my attention back to the discussion. My brothers and I are sitting around a table in his office, analyzing the King Group’s financials for the last quarter, as well as the projections for the next six months.

“Of course,” I say. And I am, despite the memory of my meeting with Delilah this morning taking up most of my attention.

She’d surprised me. I’m mostly convinced that our original encounter and what happened between us was a coincidence. The shock and horror on her face when I suggested otherwise was believable enough that a part of me—a tiny part—actually feels bad about accusing her. But there are women out there who would do exactly that. Outside the bedroom, there have been plenty of people over the years who’ve orchestrated meetings with me and my brothers to try to get something from us.

In our position, trust is scarce. I’m not sure there’s anyone in my life I trust completely. I know my brothers won’t screw me over, because that would mean screwing the family and the company over, but it isn’t because of any fond feelings we have for each other. It’s because our power and wealth depend on our united front. That’s the only thing that keeps the jackals at bay.

But trusting them with anything else is a different matter. Delilah may have been offended that I suggested she arranged our meeting, but I’d have been stupid not to ask.

The only problem is, once I got the answer out of her and she was standing there staring up at me, cheeks flushed, eyes sparking with anger, my own had evaporated, replaced by something different but just as heated.

My mind had flashed back to a time when her smooth skin flushed with arousal rather than anger. My dick had hardened in my pants at the memory of the thrust that buried it in her pussy, and the way she let out a breathy gasp when she was completely filled for the first time. Remembering how she’d come for me had sent a hot surge of lust flowing through my veins. Would she come as prettily if I were to fuck her again?

I’d shut that down fast, returning to my desk and dismissing her before my thoughts became too obvious.

But that memory and the scent of her perfume that lingered in the air had taken over my mind. The minute she’d left my office, I’d been out of my seat and in my private bathroom, stroking my dick to the visions replaying in my head. I’d never fucking done that before. Sure, I’d occasionally relieved some stress during the day, but never because of a specific woman.

Afterward, I’d stared at my reflection in the mirror and told myself I needed to get past this. I vowed to put Delilah out of my mind. She’s my employee and nothing else.

And yet here I am, thinking about her again. In the middle of a business meeting.

Completely un-fucking-like me.

I grit my teeth. Roman’s gray eyes bore into me, but I calmly return his gaze. I’m focused.

Tate, my other brother, leans back in his chair, raking his hand through his blond hair. “I talked to Dad’s lawyer yesterday,” he says, breaking the tension and changing the topic from the numbers we’ve been discussing for the last hour. “He’s still resisting the idea of a plea bargain.”

I tap my pen impatiently on the table. “He’s too damn arrogant for his own good. He actually thinks he can win if he goes to trial.”

“He can’t,” Roman says flatly. “The lawyers need to keep pushing him. We don’t need any more hits to the King Group’s reputation. And a long, drawn-out trial won’t do anyone any favors.”

I nod in agreement. “Let’s focus on what we can control. The hotel project is our top priority right now. If we can deliver on that, it’ll go a long way in restoring confidence in the company.”

“The board and our investors are expecting us to break ground on the first three hotels in twelve months,” Roman says. “Can the architects have the final designs and all the planning permissions completed so we can meet that deadline?”

“I met with them this morning,” I say. “They seem motivated. The initial concepts they’ve presented are sound. It might be tight, but I’ll make sure we meet the target.”

Tate takes a sip of water, clearing his throat before speaking. “We need to look at boosting investor confidence in the meantime. There are some rumors flying around that Berrington’s weighing his options.”

I frown. Kenneth Berrington is one of our largest investors, as well as an old friend of our father’s. His opinion carries weight in the business world and losing him could influence other investors who are watching to see how the company performs.

Berrington is also Jessica’s father. After she and I kept running into each other at social and industry events over the years, we developed a mutually beneficial arrangement: when we can’t be bothered organizing another date, we attend together, reinforcing the relationship between our respective families’ companies—and more often than not, finishing the night with a good fuck. She’s one of the few women I’ve had sex with more than once. Not because there’s any emotional attachment between us, but because it’s convenient. The sex is good, and we both know exactly who the other person is and what we do and don’t want from each other.

Although, recently, she’s become clingier. If she carries on the way she did the last time we were together, I might have to rethink our arrangement. The last thing I need is the complication of Jessica wanting to deepen our involvement.

Roman drums his fingertips, his eyes narrowing. “He’s been with us for a long time, but the situation with Dad’s arrest has thrown everyone’s confidence. Berrington wants assurances we can maintain our profit margins. We may not have the relationship with him that Dad did, but we need him. If he pulls his investments, others will consider jumping ship as well.”

Tate has been tapping away at his laptop as we speak. “Unfortunately, I don’t think Cole regularly screwing his only daughter is enough insurance for us.” His golden-brown eyes, so different from mine and Roman’s, lift from the screen, and he smirks at me. “Maybe you should think about putting a ring on it.”

The idea sends a chill down my back. Marriage is the last thing I’m interested in. I’ll eventually have to find a wife and have children—it’s expected, after all—but I could happily hold out for another ten years.

“No one’s going to be putting a ring anywhere,” I reply.

“Not even a cock ring?” Tate throws back with a smirk. “You’re missing out.”

I ignore him. “Berrington is more than happy to have me and Jessica put on a show now and then. He likes that everyone thinks he has an in with us. But that’s all it is, a show.”

Tate’s about to say something else when Roman interrupts. “Our current aim is getting the hotel project underway as quickly as possible and meeting our milestones. That will convince the investors that Dad’s removal as CEO won’t impact our operations. Cole, I want you working closely with the architects to make sure they stay on track. I trust you to get this done for us.”

I give a curt nod, brushing aside the hint of pride his words spark in me. It’s just a holdover from years ago, when I actually cared about my older brother’s approval.

“Tate. We need to make sure our messaging is on point,” Roman says.

Tate leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I’ve been holding weekly meetings with the marketing team. They’re launching a public relations campaign next week to highlight our commitment to transparency and ethical business practices. They’ll focus their social media efforts on our philanthropic efforts and environmental initiatives.” His gaze finds me. “It might be worth being seen out and about as much as possible. Attend a gala or three—the more charitable the cause, the better. Make sure you’re seen throwing cash around. It’ll reassure shareholders and investors that we’re operating as usual, and the public will see that we’re actively giving back.”

I glance at Roman, then focus on Tate again. He’s already chuckling. Probably because my face is reflecting my thoughts. “You’re suggesting I’m the one who’ll do all of that?”

Roman crosses his arms and gives me a pointed look. “You’re the best choice. You’re better at charming investors than I am, but not so charming that you’re likely to end up with their wives’ ankles around your ears.”

Tate snorts out a laugh. “That’s only happened twice. And to be fair, one of them was in an open marriage and the other was already getting divorce papers drawn up.”

I can’t quite stop my lips from twitching, but Roman’s scowl says he’s less than amused. Looks like I’ll have to suck it up and start accepting more of the invitations we always seem to receive.

Even as I resign myself to that, my mind is already back on the hotel project. I need to take a more hands-on approach than I typically would. Follow Tate’s example and hold weekly meetings with the architects. Make sure everything stays on track.

Of course, that means weekly meetings with Delilah as well. I refuse to acknowledge that part of me might actually look forward to that. She may have a way of getting under my skin, but there’s too much at stake to let myself get sidetracked by a woman.

With that thought, I turn my attention back to the meeting and focus on what’s important: making sure the King Group stays on top. It’s the only thing that matters, and I’m more than willing to do whatever it takes to ensure it happens.