Page 69 of Coldhearted King

“Miss West.” His voice comes from behind me, and I curse to myself. I don’t have a choice but to stop. He’s still my boss and I’m at my place of work.

I take a deep breath, then turn to face him. He says something to the group of men, then walks toward me. Anger wars with hurt in my chest as I wait for him.

He comes to a stop in front of me, a frown furrowing his brow. “What’s going on?” he asks in a low voice.

I finally meet his gaze head-on, the intensity of his stare hitting me like a punch to the chest. “What do you mean?”

“You barely looked at me as you passed, and it’s not like you to leave early.”

“I’m not feeling well. I’m going home.”

My pulse hammers, and I want to yell at him. To ask him how he could do something like that to me when I thought... Well, I thought wrong. Saying something like that is bound to be the quickest possible way to get fired, so I bottle it all up and push it down where it has to stay until I can be alone. Because I won’t lose everything I’ve worked for over this man.

His frown deepens. I glance over his shoulder to find the group of men he was with eyeing me with curiosity. One of them looks at his watch, then says something to the others.

I take a step away from Cole, hoping he’ll let me go, since his group is waiting for him.

“Delilah,” he growls. “Tell me what’s going on.”

The awareness glimmering in his eyes makes me think he knows exactly what’s going on. How can he not imagine there was a chance I’d see the photos?

But suddenly I want him to know. To realize it’s not okay to hurt people just because there are no repercussions for him.

The elevator behind him dings, and the men board it, holding the door open. “Cole?” one of them calls out.

I take another step backward. “I’ll see you later, Cole. I’m glad you and Jessica had a good time on Friday night.”

His jaw clenches, but he says nothing as I spin on my heel and make for the front door. My mouth is dry, and I need to get home so I can drown my sorrows. It’s mid-afternoon, but I’m giving myself permission to crack open a bottle of wine.

I step outside and take a deep breath. I can’t bear the thought of catching the train home, so I hail a cab. My phone beeps in my purse and I pull it out to see a message from Cole.

We need to talk.

I stuff it back in my bag and blink back tears. What was I thinking? Honestly, how had I ever thought sleeping with him was a good idea? I’m such an idiot. Tears blur my vision, but I can’t be that woman crying in the back of a cab over a man. I won’t.

For all my determination, the moment the door of my apartment closes behind me, the dam bursts. Hot tears splash down my cheeks and I sink into my couch. Why am I this hurt? This wasn’t a real relationship. It was just sex. We were just enjoying each other’s bodies. Yes, he lied to me, but being stupid enough to believe him, to let myself feel more than I should...That’s on me.

More tears leak out and I wipe them away. God, this is ridiculous. I want to think it’s humiliation, and that’s definitely a part of it. No one likes being made a fool of, and this is the second time it’s happened to me. But the truth is, I’ve done exactly what I promised myself I wouldn’t.

I let myself start feeling things for Cole, and this is the consequence.

My phone beeps again, and when I see his name, I can’t stop myself from reading the message.

Don’t ignore me, Delilah.

I huff out a breath. I’ll need to talk to him at some stage, to officially end this thing between us, but I want to be calm and in control when I do it so I don’t say something stupid and end up off the project and potentially out of a job. If I speak to him now, I won’t be anywhere near calm and in control.

My phone lights up with Cole’s name on the screen, but I decline the call. I don’t understand why he’s bothering. He hasn’t lost anything that he can’t easily replace. Why can’t he just leave me alone to take a breath and work through these emotions?

Another message notification and my eyes automatically drop to my phone’s screen.

Answer your phone, Delilah.

Anger dries my tears.What is his problem?

A minute later, my phone rings again and I stare at it, a pulse throbbing in my temple as my temper rises even more. It feels good to let the anger take over. He’s rich and powerful and I’m technically working for him at the moment, but that doesn’t mean he gets to treat me like this. Like someone he can discard with thoughtless cruelty.

Before I have time to overthink it, I answer.

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