Page 33 of Coldhearted King

“Delilah—” he started, reaching for me.

I jerked back. “Don’t touch me.”

His hand dropped, but he kept talking. Repeating the same things he said to me Friday night.

And I gave him exactly the same answer.

Eventually realizing I wasn’t going to change my mind, he sighed heavily and walked away.

I’d sunk into my seat, shaking, and tried to take my mind off him by throwing myself into my work, but I kept flashing back to Friday night at the club. I kept remembering Cole leaning into me, telling me about Paul, and then what I’d said to him after.

That’s when I picked up the phone and made the appointment to see him.

And that’s why I’m sitting outside his office now, my pulse racing.

“You can go in,” Samson says.

With a deep breath, I stand and smooth my skirt, then knock.

“Come in.”

I enter and close the heavy wooden door behind me. Cole is sitting at his desk, leaning back in his chair. I swallow hard, taking in the breadth of the shoulders encased within his impeccably tailored suit jacket. His icy blue eyes bore into me, and a little shiver works its way down my back.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you today, Miss West. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

I take a few steps closer and clasp my hands in front of me. “I want to apologize, and...” I inhale a shaky breath. “To thank you.”

His dark brows arch high, and he leans forward, resting his elbows on his desk. “For what?”

“You were right about Paul.”

He stares at me for a moment, then stands and walks to the front of his desk. “And what was I right about?”

Taking a deep breath, I steady myself. “After we left the club on Friday night, I stopped by his apartment. He wasn’t alone.” There’s no need to say more.

Something flickers across his face. “I can’t say I’m surprised. But I am sorry.”

I suck my bottom lip between my teeth and nod. With his unreadable expression, it’s hard to tell how sincere he is.

He paces forward, stopping when he’s close enough to tip my chin. There’s a faint line between his brows. “Are you okay?”

My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. I don’t know how to answer that question. I’m hurt and angry and humiliated, but I don’t want to talk to Cole about it. “I-I’m fine.”

He searches my face, then abruptly walks back to his desk, reaches across it, and presses his intercom.

“Yes, sir?” Samson answers.

“Please call Paul from the Elite team and ask him to come to my office immediately.”

“Of course, Mr. King.”

My eyes widen as I watch him. Why is he having Paul come in?

“And Samson,” he continues, “don’t notify me when he arrives. I’ll let you know when I’m ready for him.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why do you want to speak to Paul?” I ask as soon as he disconnects.

---