Page 17 of Coldhearted King

He doesn’t. He steps forward and clasps my hand in his big, warm grip.

My palm tingles.

“Is it?” he says.

My brows jump, and as soon as he lets go of my hand, I pull it back. “Um...” God, this is embarrassing. I’m a professional, for god’s sake. This situation is awkward as hell, but I should at least be able to string a sentence together. “Of course. I’m very excited to work with the King Group.” There, that sounds professional and upbeat.

His eyes narrow as he studies me. “How long were you working on this proposal?”

I shift my feet and look at the deep leather chairs in front of his desk, wondering if I’m expected to stand here the whole time while he interviews me. Cole notices my gaze but doesn’t invite me to sit.

I bite back a sigh. “We’ve been working on it for about two months.”

He nods, rubbing his hand over his jaw. I have a sudden memory of when that same jaw, rough with five o’clock shadow, rubbed deliciously on the sensitive skin of my inner thighs. My nipples tighten, and I hope my reaction isn’t visible.

“So you knew who I was when you sat next to me at the bar?”

What? I shake my head. “No, I didn’t know who you were.”

One dark brow lifts. “You’re saying you sat next to one of your most lucrative potential clients, dressed to kill and with a ready story about your broken heart, and it wasn’t on purpose?” His voice betrays nothing—he sounds like he doesn’t care what my answer is—but the hard angle of his jaw belies his nonchalance.

“What are you asking me?”

“I’m asking if you planned this. What are the odds you’d turn up next to me at the bar that night, end up in my bed, then walk into my office last week?”

Who does this guy think he is? My shoulders stiffen. “I don’t know the exact odds. I imagine they’re low. But I didn’t plan this. It’s just a crazy coincidence.”

“I don’t believe in coincidences.”

Anger whips through me. What sort of cold, empty life would allow him to see a simple coincidence as some subterfuge to manipulate him? “Are you insinuating that I used my body to get this job for my firm? Because if you are, it sounds very much like you’re suggesting I prostituted myself.”

He stalks closer and my breath catches. I hate that even though I’m furious with him, my body reacts to his proximity. He’s the only man who’s given me such intense pleasure, and apparently my body doesn’t care that he’s insulting my integrity. It just wants to relive the feeling of his head between my legs and the way he filled me so thoroughly.

My gaze snaps back to his as I realize it’s drifted down to his lips.

My nipples tighten even more, and I’m sure by now they must be visible. I cross my arms as if I’m bored with this conversation.

Only the smirk curling his lips lets me know I haven’t succeeded.

He’s standing so close that I need to angle my chin sharply to keep my eyes locked with his.

“I’m not calling you a prostitute,” he says, “but I’ve met plenty of men and women who are prepared to do whatever it takes to get something from me. I want to know if you’re one of them. This job is worth more than a lot of money. It comes with a significant amount of prestige.”

This timemylip curls. “I don’t know what sort of people you spend time with, Mr. King, but that sounds like ayouproblem. I’m telling you the truth. I didn’t know who you were the night we met. If I had, I absolutely would never have...done what I did.” His eyes darken, and I have to swallow past my dry throat before I can continue. “When we were first notified about the project, I looked up the company and the only photos I saw were your father’s and, I’m assuming, your brother’s. So unless your face is plastered all over social media––which, by the way, I don’t follow––I wouldn’t know you from the next guy. I worked my ass off over the last few months on our proposal, and insinuating we couldn’t win this account from merit is a slap in the face. Not to mention you’re basically saying that I, as a woman, would rather use my body than my mind and talent to get a job.”

I raise my chin, doing my best to rein in my temper. As much of a jerk as Cole is, I don’t want to be responsible for our firm losing this job. “But if you still have a problem with me, I suggest you ask for my removal from the team. Otherwise, let’s just act like professionals and maintain our distance from each other until this project is done.”

Cole’s eyes flick between mine, and I can’t tell what he’s thinking at all. Even though I’ve given him the option, I really hope he doesn’t ask for my removal. Not only will that be a professional disaster for me, but explaining the why of it to Paul would be difficult, to say the least. But he just gives an abrupt nod and steps back. He returns to his desk, settling into his chair.

“You can stay on the team, Miss West. Far be it from me to cast aspersions on your character or your talent. Since we’ll have very little to do with each other during your time here, I can assure you, keeping our distance won’t be hard. But let me be very clear, just so there are no misunderstandings. There won’t be any repeats of that night.”

I gasp. The absolute nerve of him. I know I should just turn and go, but I can’t leave it at that. “Of course there won’t be a repeat of that night. After all, I can only lose my virginity once. Now that Paul and I are back together, what would I need you for?”

Something dark flashes in his eyes, but he merely raises his brows. “He convinced you to take him back, did he? Or were you the one who did the convincing with your newfound sexual confidence?”

My head starts to pound at the base of my skull, and I glare at him. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Paul apologized and asked if we could try again.”

Cole doesn’t say anything, just scrutinizes me as I stand there. Do I need to wait for him to dismiss me, or can I just make a move for the door? Before I can decide, he’s out of his seat again and stalking toward me.

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