Page 20 of Coldhearted King

Roman crosses his arms and gives me a pointed look. “You’re the best choice. You’re better at charming investors than I am, but not so charming that you’re likely to end up with their wives’ ankles around your ears.”

Tate snorts out a laugh. “That’s only happened twice. And to be fair, one of them was in an open marriage and the other was already getting divorce papers drawn up.”

I can’t quite stop my lips from twitching, but Roman’s scowl says he’s less than amused. Looks like I’ll have to suck it up and start accepting more of the invitations we always seem to receive.

Even as I resign myself to that, my mind is already back on the hotel project. I need to take a more hands-on approach than I typically would. Follow Tate’s example and hold weekly meetings with the architects. Make sure everything stays on track.

Of course, that means weekly meetings with Delilah as well. I refuse to acknowledge that part of me might actually look forward to that. She may have a way of getting under my skin, but there’s too much at stake to let myself get sidetracked by a woman.

With that thought, I turn my attention back to the meeting and focus on what’s important: making sure the King Group stays on top. It’s the only thing that matters, and I’m more than willing to do whatever it takes to ensure it happens.

CHAPTERTEN

DELILAH

Itap my pen on my notepad as I study the concept design I’ve drawn for the roof of the Chicago hotel. After doing some calculations, I turn to my other computer screen and scroll through the U.S. Green Building Council website, checking over the information on their certification requirements. I take a few notes, then put my pen down and stretch.

It’s Friday, and I’ve made it through my first week with the King Group. Aside from the confrontation with Cole on Monday, it’s been great. I scan my surroundings and smile. They’ve given us an impressive office, filled with sleek, modern workbenches, ergonomic chairs, and several drafting tables. Large windows line two walls, allowing natural light to flood in and giving the space an airy, open feel. A small kitchen area with a fridge, microwave, and coffee machine is located at the far end.

My desk sits in the corner, facing the rest of the room. The double computer screens block most of my view, which is great for preventing distractions. Although it also blocks me from seeing who’s approaching. It’s only when the familiar waft of Paul’s aftershave—which he always applies a little too liberally—reaches me that I’m alerted to his presence.

He peers at me over the screens, and I smile up at him. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Cole’s asked for a status meeting in ten.”

My stomach twists. “With all of us?”

He nods. “I offered to give him a rundown myself, but he wants the entire team there.”

Not seeing any sign of Cole since Monday has given me a false sense of security, but at least he won’t make any more insulting accusations if there’s a room full of people.

I hope not, anyway.

I stand, grab my notepad and pen, and follow everyone as we file into the elevator to take us to the executive floor. After shuffling to the side to let in a straggler, my attention is caught by Philippa, who’s been in the office this morning in her liaison role. She’s standing close to Paul, and as I watch, he leans down to her so she can murmur something into his ear.

A spike of unease hits me at their easy familiarity. And not for the first time, I wonder if there might have been something between the two of them while Paul was in the UK. It would explain her barely veiled animosity toward me. I asked Paul once, not long after she joined our office. He denied it.

The thought gets pushed to the side as we enter the conference room, and I can’t stop myself from looking toward the head of the table. The chair is empty, and the tension in my shoulders loosens. I make my way to the seat furthest away. There’s no point in making this situation more uncomfortable than I need to.

While we wait, I open my notepad and sketch out some ideas that have been running through my head since I saw the updates to the USGBC website. I don’t look up as the conference room door opens again, although my body is all-too aware of his entry. I wish it wasn’t. Having my pulse automatically speed up as soon as I sense his presence—and not just from nervousness—has guilt washing over me. Particularly with Paul sitting only a few seats away.

When Cole speaks, I force myself to turn and face him. The last thing I need is to be called out for unprofessionalism. Thankfully, his eyes aren’t on me. Now that he’s figured out I didn’t attempt to con my way into this job––or his bed––he’ll pay no more attention to me than any other of the hundreds of people working in this building.

“We’re facing a tight deadline,” Cole says. “I intend to have regular meetings to make sure the timeline doesn’t slip. During these meetings, I expect progress updates from each of you.” He turns his attention to Paul. “I also expect a written update from you on the overall status of the project, and I want it in my inbox every Friday morning.”

My brows draw together. Am I imagining it, or did his tone become curter when he spoke to Paul? If Paul notices, he doesn’t show it. He just nods his acknowledgement.

We spend the next hour going around the room, and everyone shares their updates. I’m not as prepared as I should be when his steely eyes land on me. “Miss West,” he says, and this time I’m sure I’m not imagining the coolness of his tone.

“I’m working on the concept for the Chicago property. I’m on schedule and have completed several preliminary designs and conceptual sketches, but...” I pause and out of the corner of my eye, I see Paul’s head swing toward me. Should I say anything? I haven’t discussed any of this with him yet. My plan was to feed this information up the chain through him, but since I can’t avoid interacting with Cole, I might as well mention it now.

“What is it?” Cole sounds impatient, and I almost lose my nerve.

But then I straighten in my seat. This is where my expertise lies. He doesn’t get to make me doubt myself just because he’s a rich, entitled asshole. I look him straight in the eye. “I’ve been checking the USGBC website, which provides the LEED certification requirements, and I’ve done some calculations.”

He doesn’t say anything, just picks up his pen and rolls it between his fingers while he leans back in his chair and pins me with his gaze.

I clear my throat. “My initial thoughts were to install a solar panel array on the roof, but I think there’ll be significant value in installing a green roof as well. It will help reduce the urban heat island effect and provide natural insulation, reduce energy use for heating and cooling, and help to manage stormwater runoff and improve air quality. Besides the solar panel array and the other sustainability systems we’re already looking at incorporating, a green roof will result in a higher LEED certification.”

---