Page 101 of Coldhearted King

“Jessica and I may have fucked, but I have no interest in spending the rest of my life with her. Why don’t you marry her?”

Roman scowls. “I’ve been married once. It’s not happening again. And Jessica wants you, not me, and not Tate.”

It sinks in that he’s serious and my mind immediately goes to Delilah—to the feel of her in my arms this morning, the taste of her on my lips, the way she gives herself to me so trustingly, the look in her eyes when she smiles at me...

“What’s the problem here?” Roman asks, impatience sharpening his tone. “Jessica is beautiful, we can use her wealth and connections, and you already know you’re sexually compatible. What more is there?”

“Having those things didn’t work out for you, did it?” I ask.

“This isn’t about what did or didn’t work for me.” He drums his fingers on his knee and scrutinizes me. “Tell me this isn’t about your architect.”

I stare at him, and my silence must tell him everything he needs to know.

He groans. “She has a pretty face—and apparently a golden pussy. Otherwise you wouldn’t be hesitating like this.”

My hands clench into fists.

“But you can’t honestly tell me you’re going to put that ahead of this company, are you? This is our legacy. The King Group is who we are.”

I’ve done a lot for this company, but marrying Jessica is asking too much. I blow out a breath. “That can’t be the only option.”

“There might be others, but none that won’t negatively impact profits going forward.”

“Don’t you think we have enough profits?” I growl.

His brows arch. “No, I don’t. And we promised our investors Dad’s arrest wouldn’t affect our bottom line. Breaking that promise is the start of a slippery slope.”

I stare at him, going over the options in my head.

Roman leans back in his seat, regarding me with a chilly gaze. “I can’t believe you’re letting a fling get in your head this way. What the hell are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that maybe there’s more to life than work, money, and fucking,” I snap, then pause, taken aback by my own words.

Roman snorts in disdain. “Then you’re an idiot. Love is nothing but a fantasy people like to believe in so they can feel better about life. Sure, you can meet someone you’re attracted to. The sex is good, your body starts producing chemicals, and suddenly you’ve conned yourself into believing there’s something deeper between the two of you. Then what? You get married, only to find out that when the chemical high wears off, it was all just an illusion. Your pretty new wife starts enjoying spending your money more than fucking you. What you convinced yourself was love turns to indifference. In the end, you’re stuck in a loveless marriage like our parents and every other couple we know. You have affair after affair, or you split up and go back to fucking random women anyway. Either way, it turns out the same.”

“How very cynical of you,” I say through gritted teeth, even though Roman’s words have cut straight to the heart of all my doubts. After all, up until recently, that’s exactly what I believed. The hollow growing behind my ribs tells me that deep down, I might still believe it.

“Realistic,” Roman responds. “Jessica is gorgeous, you know you both enjoy each other physically, and she has money of her own, so she won’t be looking to take you for all she can get.”

Anger pulses behind my temples. “Delilah isn’t a gold digger.”

He ignores me. “What you give Jessica is a powerful alliance that elevates her to the top echelons of society. We get her father’s commitment to maintain his investment, which protects the one damn thing of any worth this family has going for it. Please don’t tell me you’d let that go for something that is completely replaceable. This is the best option we have without compromising the company’s financial position, and if that’s not motivation enough, then you’re not the man I thought you were.”

I sit back in my chair. Is Roman right?

“Let me tell you something,” he says, and for the first time in a long time, I see something other than aloofness or anger in his gray eyes. Whatever he’s about to say, I get the feeling it isn’t something he shares often. “When I married Katherine, I’d convinced myself that I loved her—and that she loved me.”

Shock courses through me. I had no idea Roman had genuine feelings for Katherine.

“It only took a few months for the lie I was telling myself to fall apart,” he continues, his gaze becoming distant. “Whatever we felt at the start, it wasn’t love. If it was, it wouldn’t have turned to hate so quickly.”

I didn’t know any of this. I shake my head. At what point did my brothers and I become such fucking strangers? There’s a tightness in my chest I haven’t felt for a long time. A sense of loss I’d desensitized myself to years ago when I realized caring about people, and expecting them to care about me, was a fool’s game. “Is that why you got divorced? Because you’ve just finished telling me that love isn’t important. Why would hating each other matter?”

He hesitates. “They say that the opposite of love isn’t hate, it’s indifference. Maybe if all we’d felt for each other was indifference, we might still be married today. But hate is different. Seeing the eyes of the woman I thought knew me better than anyone else filled with loathing, and knowing she saw the same thing every time she looked at me—that was impossible. So learn from my fucking mistakes. Marry the woman you feel indifferent about, and you’ll never be disappointed when you realize the truth.”

All the warmth that filled me since being with Delilah trickles away at Roman’s confession.

He holds my gaze. “However a marriage starts, it always ends up the same way. Better to treat it like the business merger that it is from the beginning and not suffer any disappointment along the way.” Is that bitterness in his voice? I don’t care enough to think about it at the moment. I’m too busy imagining the light in Delilah’s eyes when she looks at me fading away to cold dispassion, just the way my parents always looked at each other. The way they always looked at us. Something barbed twists in my chest, and a dull sound echoes in my head—the final nail being beaten into a coffin.

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