Coldhearted King: A Billionaire Workplace Romance (Empty Kingdom Book 1)

I scan the crowd for Alex. When I spot her at the bar, I rush over. “Hey, do you mind if we leave?”

Her brows draw together. “Are you okay?” She scans the surrounding area. “Did he do someth—”

Things blur a little as I shake my head. Maybe I drank more than I thought tonight. Regardless, my head is all mixed up after what just happened with Cole.

What had just happened with Cole?

I don’t know, but any buzz I was feeling has gone, and knowing he’s upstairs in the VIP section, ready to screw whatever model he was talking about, makes me want to get as far from here as possible. Not that I want to be the one he’s screwing. I’ve got a boyfriend, after all. I just don’t want to have the image of the two of them together in my head. “I’m not feeling it anymore. Do you mind?”

“Of course not. Let’s get out of here.”

We head toward the door, and I refuse to look up at the second floor. After we fight our way through the stream of people entering the club, Alex calls for a ride. A few minutes later, after filling her in on the basics of what went down with Cole, we’re heading home.

I should feel relieved, but Cole’s words keep running around my head. Why would he say those things about Paul? Was he trying to mess with me? The thought that he might know something I don’t sends nausea swirling through my stomach.

As much as I hate to lend credence to his words, I can’t stop the suspicion from taking over.

I turn to Alex. “Do you mind if we stop at Paul’s? Just for a minute?”

She studies me with her dark eyes, then nods. “Sure.”

I give the driver the new address, then slump back in my seat. I’m sure Cole is just full of shit. Paul had sounded genuinely tired when he called from his office and told me he wouldn’t be coming tonight. Surely he wouldn’t cheat on me. Not after just getting back together.

My nerves are shot by the time we pull up outside Paul’s building. After assuring Alex I’ll only be a couple of minutes, I climb out of the car and use the key he’d given me to enter instead of ringing the buzzer.

I run up the single flight of stairs, my pulse pounding in my ears. I don’t know how I’ll explain myself when I barge in on him unannounced. In fact, considering how late it is, he’s probably already asleep. I reassure myself with that thought as I quietly turn the key in the lock and swing the door open.

The lights are on in the living room, but there’s no one there. I tiptoe through the room, and my heart stalls at the sight of two wineglasses sitting on the table.

A pit forms in my stomach. Already knowing what I’ll see, but unable to stop myself, I make my way to the bedroom. The sounds emanating from the slightly ajar door have my chest constricting. I want to cry. I want to run. I want to scream at him. But first I need to know who he’s with.

Breathing deeply to hold back the tears, I edge the door open.

They’re facing away from me on the bed, naked Philippa on her hands and knees and Paul behind her, hips slapping rhythmically against her ass. She’s moaning and gasping like his dick is the best thing she’s ever had inside her. All I can think is that she’s obviously never had Cole’s dick in her.

That thought is enough to push back the tears that sting my eyes. I stiffen my spine, resisting the urge to throw my keys at the back of Paul’s head. I won’t waste any more of my time and energy on him, and I definitely won’t give Philippa the satisfaction of making a scene while she sits there and watches with a smug smile on her face. As far as I’m concerned, the two of them are welcome to each other.

I return to the living room. Looking around, I spot his white-marble-topped coffee table. The one where the two wineglasses sit. There’s also a small clutch tucked into the corner of the couch. I pick it up, rummage around, and find what I’m looking for—a tube of lipstick. I uncap it and scrawl a big, red Fuck You over the table, which gives me more satisfaction than I expect. Then I take his apartment key off my chain, drop it between the two wineglasses, grab my nice leather jacket that I’d left here last time I stayed the night, and walk out.

I’m not quiet when I close the front door behind me. Even if he hears it, I’ll be gone by the time he figures out what’s happened. It’s only when I hit the foyer that my hands begin to shake.

I run back to the car and slide in next to Alex, trying to steady my racing pulse.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, automatically putting her arms around me as the driver shifts the car into gear and pulls away from the curb.

“Paul was there with Philippa. H-He was screwing her.” Hurt starts to break through my veneer of anger.

“That fucking asshole,” Alex seethes, voice dripping venom. “Just let me go back there and rip his balls from his body.”

I let out a wobbly laugh. “He’s not worth it. He’s a piece of shit. I just can’t believe I didn’t see it. I even gave him a second chance. I feel like such a fool.”

She brushes a few strands of hair away from my cheek. “You trusted him.”

I nod, and she rubs her hand up and down my back. “What did you say? What did he say?”

“They didn’t see me. He was fucking her doggy style with his back to me.” Bile rises into my throat at the thought of the nights I’ve slept in that bed. How many times has he screwed her there?

“So he doesn’t know you know?”

“I left a pretty clear message.”

I tell her what I did, and she shakes her head and laughs. “You’ve got more restraint than me. I would have thrown something at the back of his head.”

“Believe me, I considered it.” A new emotion joins the anger and hurt. Humiliation. Cole had known. Or at least strongly suspected. Which means he’s seen things I haven’t. How many other people know? The whole team? Am I the laughingstock of the office?

The car drops us off and I march for the door. I fumble while trying to get the key in the lock, so Alex gently takes it from me and lets us in.

I drop my purse on the table. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“I’m sorry, Dee. I really am.” Alex gives me a long hug.

I let out a ragged breath. “You never liked him.”

“Because I didn’t think he was good enough for you,” she says, pushing my hair away from my face.

I nod, hating that tears continue to burn the backs of my eyes every time I think back to what I saw. Also hating that my mind keeps going to Cole and the fact that he knew. That he practically spelled it out for me, and I told him he didn’t know what he was talking about.

I turn the shower on as hot as I can bear and let it cascade over me. Paul hasn’t called, which either means he hasn’t seen my message yet or he has and is too chicken shit to talk to me.

A sudden rush of nausea hits me. How the hell can I face him and Philippa on Monday with the image of what I saw running through my head? How can I walk into our weekly meeting and look Cole in the eye?

And why do I keep thinking about Cole?

I turn off the shower and dress in my pajamas. I’m just coming out of the bathroom when the door buzzer sounds. The air evacuates my lungs, and I stand frozen.

“Dee, it’s him,” Alex calls. “What should I do? If you want, I can go down and give him hell.”

As tempting as it might be to curl up on the couch and let her rip him a new one—something the glitter in her eyes tells me she’d enjoy far too much—this is something I need to do myself.

I march to the living room and snatch up the intercom. I don’t say anything. He’ll have heard me pick up and know someone’s listening.

“Delilah? Is that you?”

“Yes.” It’s all I give him.

“Delilah, baby, please let me up so we can talk.”

My hand tightens around the handset. “No thank you. I’d prefer you don’t step foot in this apartment again.”

“Well, can you come down here? I really need to talk to you.”

“I won’t be coming down. If you have something to say, you can say it like this.”

He lets out a heavy sigh. “I’m so sorry, baby. I don’t know what you saw, but you have to know that I care about you so much. I would never want to hurt you. What happened tonight was just a lapse in judgment. That’s all. And if you’ll forgive me, I promise it will never happen again. Just . . . Just come down so I can see you.”

Anger is a hard stone in my chest. “You can’t be serious. A lapse in judgment? I saw you fucking her, Paul. And not just a random woman, someone I have to work with. How could you do that?”

“Baby, please—”

“Don’t call me baby. You don’t have the right anymore. Plus I never liked it.”

“Delilah—”

“You know what? I’ve heard enough. You disrespected me in the vilest way possible, and I have nothing more to say to you. At work, I’ll appreciate it if you limit our interactions to only those necessary for the completion of this project. And tell Philippa to stay the hell away from me.”

I hang up and Alex immediately wraps her arms around me, holding me as the tears I’ve been holding back finally spill over—more from anger and humiliation than heartbreak. “You’ll be all right. It hurts now, I know, but you’ll get over it and find someone so much better. I promise.”

I nod, even as tears continue to drip down my face.

I’ll take this moment to cry and let out all my hurt and disappointment and anger. And then on Monday, I’ll go to work with my head held high.

I CHECK the time on my computer screen, then take a deep breath, pick up my phone, and connect to Cole’s PA line.

“Cole King’s office,” Samson answers.

“Hi. It’s Delilah West from the architectural team. I was wondering if I could get a quick meeting with Mr. King sometime today?”

“Hold on for a second.” The faint clicking of keys makes its way across the line. “He has fifteen minutes available this afternoon at one o’clock. Does that work?”

“Yes, that’s fine. Thank you.”

I lower the receiver and clench my fists. I do not want to do this. I really don’t. But I will.

This morning, I’d done what I promised myself. I walked into the office with my head high, even though my stomach was in knots. Paul was waiting by my desk, and the anger that surged through me at the sight of his face took my breath away.

“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.

Cole regards me steadily. “He’s causing problems on my team.”

I shake my head. “This is a personal matter. I didn’t come here to get you to fix this for me.”

“I’m not fixing anything.”

I frown.

“I told you. I don’t appreciate people messing with my projects, and if Paul is messing with you, he’s messing with my project.”

My shoulders sag a little. Of course his concern is for the project, not me. I don’t know why I would have imagined otherwise.

He moves closer again. “You know you deserve a better man than him,” he says.

I square my shoulders and raise my chin. “I know.”

“You would never have been happy with him in the long run.”

“I know.” It comes out a little quieter and more shakily this time as I stare up at him, my heart pounding in my chest.

He takes one more step, and now I have to tilt back my head to meet his gaze. His eyes sweep over my face, and the woodsy, masculine scent of his aftershave takes me right back to the night we spent together. That’s a dangerous memory to dredge up right now.

I lick my lips, and he focuses on them. I remember what it felt like to have his mouth on mine. I remember his hands against my skin, his fingers inside me, and my body pulses with sudden need.

Cole grips my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “You would never have been satisfied with him.”

I say nothing, frozen as I stare up at him. The heat rolling off his body warms me.

His thumb drags over my lower lip. “Did he make you come like I did, Delilah?” The rasp in his voice causes my nipples to pebble.

I don’t answer.

“Did you cry out for him, beg him to fill you again and again? Did you writhe and moan for him?”

The imagery is too vivid, affecting me too much. I can’t let him get to me. I can’t let myself fall under his spell. It won’t end well for me.

But I hesitate, even though I know it’s a bad idea, because he smells so good and I remember how incredible he made me feel.

He senses my weakness, a smile curving his seductive lips.

Then he takes one more step.