Page 38 of Filthy Rich Bosses

“Chase,” Cole is using that voice he thinks is gentle. “She’s not like your other flings. She’s not going to understand when the luster wears off and you move on to the next shiny thing.”

I try not to flinch at Cole's words, but damn if they don't sting. I force a smile, hoping it hides the knot tightening in my chest. "Wow, Cole, thanks for the vote of confidence. Glad to know you think so highly of me."

Cole sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “That’s not what I’m saying,” he amends, like he’s trying to be the voice of reason. But all I hear is judgment. “I’m just trying to protect you—from yourself, mostly.”

I can’t help the bitter laugh that escapes. “Right. Because I’m such a mess, huh?” I knock back the rest of my drink, the whiskey burning all the way down. “You think I need protecting? Maybe it’s you two who are too scared to actually let someone in for once.”

Grayson shifts uncomfortably, staring into his glass like it holds all the answers. I’m tempted to push harder, to force them to see what I’m saying, but I bite my tongue. It’s not like they ever take me seriously anyway.

“I’m not like you,” I add, my voice dropping. “I’m not afraid to take a risk. Maybe Tessa’s just a fling to you, but she means something to me.”

Cole shakes his head, looking at me with that pitying expression I hate. “You always think the next one’s different, Chase. But it’s the same story every time. You get bored, and you move on.”

My chest tightens, but I won’t give them the satisfaction of seeing how much that hurts. I force a grin, leaning back in the booth. “Maybe I’m just looking for something worth sticking around for. You ever think of that?”

They don’t answer, and the silence feels like a goddamn verdict. I swallow down the frustration, wondering why I even bothered to say anything at all.

Chapter 17

Cole

The phone buzzes again, its vibration rattling the table like an angry hornet. I glance at the screen, seeing Morgan's name flash for what must be the tenth time today. With a frustrated groan, I swipe to ignore the call, tossing the device aside.

"Fucking hell," I mutter, dragging my hands down my face. The constant interruptions are grating on my last nerve, especially with the mountain of work piling up in front of me.

I turn back to my laptop, trying to focus on the spreadsheet before me, but the numbers blur together. My mind wanders to thoughts of restraining orders and legal action. Not that it would do any good with someone like Morgan.

The phone buzzes again. A text this time.

"Cole, baby, why won't you answer? We need to talk."

I snort, shaking my head. "Yeah, like I haven't heard that before," I say to the empty room.

My fingers hover over the block button, but I know it's pointless. She'll just find another way to reach me, like shealways does. The woman's persistence would be admirable if it wasn't so damn infuriating.

I lean back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. "Maybe I should just change my number," I muse aloud. "Start fresh. It's not like she'd respect a restraining order anyway."

The thought is tempting, but the hassle of updating all my contacts and business information holds me back. Plus, knowing Morgan, she'd probably hire a private investigator to track down my new number within a week.

I sigh, picking up the phone again. The screen lights up with three missed calls and five unread texts, all from her. It's like being haunted by a particularly clingy ghost with zero regard for boundaries.

"Why can't you just let go?" I ask the phone, as if Morgan might hear me through the screen. "We're done. Over. Finito."

But I know why she can't. Morgan Blaise doesn't give up what she considers hers, and in her warped mind, I still belong to her. The thought sends a chill down my spine, remembering the manipulation and drama that defined our relationship.

I put the phone on silent and toss it onto the counter, out of sight but not out of mind. Maybe if I ignore it long enough, she'll finally get the message. But even as I think it, I know it's wishful thinking.

I contemplate just leaving the phone down here and going up to my home office, but…I don’t want to. Something about the work just feels stifling today. I’m working from home because I couldn’t manage to go in to the office, but I still can’t keep my focus on what I need to be doing.

Turning back to my work, I try to lose myself in the numbers and projections. But Morgan's presence lingers like a bad smell, polluting my thoughts and souring my mood. It's going to be a long day.

The front door opens, and I hear the familiar jingle of dog tags. Tessa's voice follows, a mix of gentle cooing and firm commands as she herds her canine entourage inside.

"Hey, Cole," she calls out. "You wouldn't believe the day I've had. There was this—"

I cut her off, my voice sharp. "Not now, Tessa. I'm in the middle of something."

She appears in the doorway, her hair slightly disheveled, those intense greenish-blue eyes narrowing as they take me in. The dogs mill around her feet, sensing the tension.

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