Page 111 of Coldhearted King

One dark brow rises. “What’s over?”

“Jessica. Me. I’m done.”

His eyes narrow and he leans forward. “She has a ring on her finger.”

“She can keep it or sell it. Whatever she wants. But it no longer represents a commitment from me to her.”

“Jesus Christ, Cole,” Roman snaps, and it almost feels good to see the anger on his face instead of that implacable indifference. “We had an agreement, for fuck’s sake. When did you speak to her? It might not be too late to turn this around.”

“I spoke to her last night. And it is too late, because I will walk away from this company before I marry her.”

I see the closest thing to shock on his face that I’ve seen since we were kids. “You can’t seriously tell me you’re so repelled by Jessica that you’d give up your shares in this company to avoid marrying her.”

“It’s not Jessica.”

“Then what the fuck is it?”

“It’s Delilah.”

Roman explodes out of his seat, planting his hands on his desk and leaning over it to stare me down. “No. You are not risking this company for a woman you had a fling with.”

I smooth down my tie, far calmer than him in this moment. “It’s funny,” I say. “When something is right, when you know deep down that it’s right, nothing else matters. Not money. Not power. Nothing.” He stares at me as if I’m crazy. “I don’t expect you to understand. Hell, if you’d said the same thing to me six months ago, I’d have thought you were crazy. But Delilah changed all of that. She changed me. And there’s no going back, even if I can’t convince her to give me another chance. I don’t want to walk away from the King Group, because this is our company and I want to be a part of its future. Maybe there’s even some hope for this family going forward. But I will trade it all for more time with her.”

Deep creases form in his forehead. “So you’re willing to end up with nothing?”

“Even if I walk away, I’ll be far from destitute, but if you’re talking about me having no part of this company, then yes, that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make. But it would be good if that weren’t the case. I think if you, me, and Tate sit down, we can figure out a way to salvage Berrington’s investment that doesn’t rely on me marrying Jessica. He’s a smart man. He might want to think he has a personal stake in a company, he might be happy pandering to his daughter to get it, but first and foremost, he’s a businessman, and he’ll listen to what we have to say.”

Roman regards me with steely eyes for a moment, then sits down again.

He drums his fingers on his desk with a look of consideration on his face. I wait patiently for his response. “I don’t pretend to understand your position,” he eventually says, “but I don’t want to lose you. If you’re determined, then let’s get this sorted out.”

My shoulders relax as he picks up his phone. “Tate, do you have a moment to come to my office?” He listens. “Good. See you in a minute.”

He hangs up, then steeples his fingers under his chin as he scrutinizes me, something that almost looks like amusement flickering in his eyes. “You have hope for this family, huh?”

My lips tug up, but I shrug casually as the door swings open and Tate walks in. “It’s never too late,” I say.

“What’s it never too late for?” he asks, making his way to the chair next to me.

“Second chances.” I might be answering his question, but it’s dark hair and green eyes I see.

Tate eyes me curiously, then turns his attention to Roman. “What do you want to talk about?”

I focus on my brothers. The three of us are going to work this out, and then I’m going for Delilah. I’m getting her back, and I don’t care what it takes.

CHAPTERFORTY-FOUR

COLE

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.

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