Page 89 of Coldhearted King

I finish up the rest of the day, trying to force down both my sadness at not seeing him and my curiosity about this weekend. I have the apartment to myself, since Alex is in LA for the whole week, visiting Jaxson. She finally admitted how much she missed him, and he leaped into action, organizing his schedule so he’d have some time to spend with her. I’m sure she’s having an amazing time, so even though I wish I could talk to her about Cole, I won’t call her. Her time with Jaxson is precious, and I don’t want to take away from that by having a long phone conversation.

I eat dinner with a glass of wine in front of the television and then call it an early night. Well, an early night for me, anyway, only working for two hours on my laptop before turning the lights out.

The rest of the week passes quickly. We’re nearing deadlines, so the whole team has their heads down as we try to get our plans signed off. Cole has messaged me every day, but we haven’t spoken on the phone. I know he’s busy, and when he’s not in meetings, he’s out at various dinners and social events. Though I’m happy he’s messaging me so regularly, I wish I could hear his voice. Once or twice I’ve considered calling him, but every time I pick up my phone, ready to dial his number, I end up putting it down again. If I call him, my voice will betray how much I miss him.

He’ll know how I feel.

But now that it’s Saturday, and I’m standing outside my building with my overnight bag at my feet, I really wish I’d gotten the chance to talk to him and grill him some more about where I’m going. I meant it when I said I trusted him, though, which is funny. If you’d asked me a few months ago, I would have said he’s the last man on earth I’d trust.

Well, except for my father.

Cole’s sleek black car pulls up in front of me, and Jonathan gets out with a smile.

“Good morning, Miss West,” he says, picking up my bag for me.

“Morning, Jonathan.” He opens my door, and when I slide in, he shuts it behind me, then places my bag in the trunk. As soon as he returns to the driver’s seat, and before he pulls out into traffic, I lean forward and ask, “I don’t suppose you know where I’m going?”

His gaze meets mine in the rearview mirror, the creases at the corners of his eyes revealing his smile. “I’m afraid I don’t. Cole just told me to take you to the airfield.”

“I’m flying somewhere?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says.

I sink back into the plush leather seat as Jonathan maneuvers the big car into the stream of traffic. I spend the rest of the trip trying to guess where I might be going. Although the thought that Cole might fly me to the UK to see him is nice, it’s blatantly unrealistic. I’ve only packed an overnight bag, and flying to the other side of the world and back for one night seems like a huge waste of resources, even for a billionaire.

If it’s work related, surely he would have told me. He could be sending me to a relaxing spa, although that doesn’t really seem like Cole’s style. Then again, nothing about this really screams “emotionally unavailable billionaire only interested in a no-strings-attached sexual relationship.”

I try to distract myself during the flight by reading a romance, but my mind wanders to where I might be going, then to Cole and what’s happening between us. My thoughts run in circles until the captain announces we’re beginning our descent. The flight was only about an hour and a half, which raises a niggling suspicion in me.

After we land at a small airfield I don’t recognize, I descend the stairs, and the scent of the air is so familiar I know my suspicion must be true. Emotions swirl through me, but I hold them in until I know for sure. There’s a limo waiting for me, and I laugh to myself that Cole thinks I need a car like this when a normal sedan would do. Hell, an Uber would do. But this is who he is, and my chest floods with warmth because he’s organized this for me.

The driver takes my bag with a nod, then holds my door open. Once he’s shut it behind me, he places my bag in the trunk, then climbs into the driver’s seat. He seems to know where he’s going, so I sit back and look out the window. Soon I see familiar sights, and my suspicion is confirmed. I’m smiling so broadly I can feel it in my cheeks as I pull out my phone and tap out a message to Cole.

Thank you, thank you, thank you!

I’m not expecting a response, and I shove my phone back in my purse, eagerly looking out the window. Happiness buzzes in my veins as we get closer and closer to our destination. When the car pulls up outside the small, single-story house with all the pretty flowers in the front yard, tears well up in my eyes. The driver stops the engine, and I throw the door open and dash up the path.

Mom must have heard the car pull up, because the door opens and she rushes out. “Delilah.” Her voice is breathless with shock, but delight wreaths her face.

“Mom!” I wrap my arms around her and breathe in the subtle scent of lilacs that drifts from her skin, the result of the lotion she applies every single morning.

I pull back, scanning her face, which is so like mine. I’ve always been glad there’s hardly any of my father in me. Only the color of my eyes—green to my mother’s blue—marks me as his daughter.

“I’m so happy to see you,” Mom says. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

I laugh. “I’m happy to be here, and I didn’t tell you because I didn’t know.”

Her brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“Let’s go inside and I’ll tell you.”

Mom nods, but her gaze goes over my shoulder, a quizzical expression crossing her face.

I glance behind me and see the driver standing there with my bag. He holds it out to me. “Mr. King’s instructions are for me to pick you up at three p.m. tomorrow for your return flight.”

I take it with a smile. “Thank you.”

He nods, then heads back down the path to the car while Mom regards me with raised brows.

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