Page 15 of Filthy Rich Bosses

"Morgan, we're not together anymore. You don't get to demand my attention like this," I say, trying to keep my voice level, but there’s a tight edge I can’t hide.

She scoffs, a sound so dismissive it makes my teeth grind. "Oh, please. You think just because you dumped me, you can pretend I don’t exist? It doesn’t work like that, Cole. We have history. People expect to see us together. Do you really want to ruin my reputation?"

I watch a couple stroll by on the sidewalk, hand in hand, looking carefree. A pang of envy hits me, followed quickly by irritation. This crap with Morgan is exactly why I've sworn off relationships.

"Actually, I can," I reply, my patience wearing thin. "And I'm going to. I don't owe you anything, Morgan."

There's a beat of silence, then a sharp intake of breath on her end. "Wow. So that's it? After everything I've done for you, you're just going to throw me away like yesterday’s trash? You’re the most selfish man I know, Cole."

My grip on the steering wheel tightens, knuckles going white. "Everything you've done for me? You mean the constant drama, the public scenes, the guilt trips? Yeah, thanks for all of that."

She lets out a high-pitched laugh, but there's no humor in it. "You think you're so much better than everyone, don’t you? Just because you’re some bigshot now, you think you can treat people like crap."

The light turns green, and I press down on the accelerator, wishing I could drive away from this conversation. "This conversation is over, Morgan."

"I'm not done talking!" she practically screams. "You can't just hang up on me, Cole. I still have your things—your watch, your cufflinks. If you ever want them back, you’ll have to deal with me."

I bite back a curse, my jaw aching from how hard I’m clenching it. "Keep them. Consider them a parting gift."

"Cole, don’t you dare—"

But I don’t let her finish. With a swift motion, I end the call, the line going blessedly silent. The car is quiet except for the hum of the engine and the sound of my heavy breathing.

Knowing Morgan, this won't be the last I hear from her. I just hope I can make it through my front door before she finds another way to intrude on my peace.

This is exactly why I’m done with her—and anyone else like her.

As I pull up to the house, I let out a long breath, feeling the tension in my shoulders start to ease. The house looms before me, a welcome sight after days of hotel rooms and endless meetings.

"Home sweet home," I mutter, killing the engine.

I grab my briefcase and step out of the car, the gravel crunching beneath my feet. The morning air is cool against my skin, carrying the faint scent of jasmine from the garden. It's a small comfort, but right now, I'll take what I can get.

Inside, the house is quiet. I drop my keys in the bowl by the stairs, the soft clink echoing in the foyer.

"Chase?" I call out, but there's no response. Probably still in bed with his latest thrill, I think, shaking my head.

I make my way up the stairs, my footsteps muffled by the plush carpet. My room is exactly as I left it, and I can't help but smile. At least some things don't change.

Dropping my bags on the bed, I loosen my tie and kick off my shoes. I’m more tense now than when I was closing that unbelievably complicated deal. Fucking Morgan…I would just block her number if I could…but I’ve already tried that. She just found a way around it. The second time I tried it, she showed up at the office ranting like a lunatic.

I contemplate a restraining order, but I’m sure she’d find a way around that too. What the hell did I ever see in her?

Fuck, I need to release some of this tension.

The sauna calls to me, promising relaxation and a chance to cook away the stress of the past week—hell, the past hour thanks to my psycho ex-girlfriend.

"Just what the doctor ordered," I murmur, grabbing a towel from the ensuite bathroom.

As I head toward the sauna, I can already feel the day's tension starting to melt away. Maybe I can finally have a moment of peace.

I push open the sauna door, a wave of steam enveloping me. Through the haze, I catch a glimpse of something unexpected—or rather, someone. A woman sits on the bench, her eyes wide with shock.

"What the—" I start, but I'm cut off by her piercing scream.

My heart races, adrenaline flooding my system. "Who the hell are you?" I demand, my voice echoing in the small space. "How did you get in here?"

The woman scrambles to cover herself with a towel, her face flushed from more than just the heat. "Who am I? Who the hell are you!?”

---