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

First thing Monday morning, Roman asks me to come to his office. I drop into one of the chairs on the other side of his desk and grab a chocolate chip muffin from the tray his assistant lays out for him every morning. He never eats any of it.

“I’m assuming you want to know how the trip to Chicago went?” I say when he doesn’t look up from the papers in front of him. It’s a classic Roman power play that he learned from Dad. I became immune to it long ago.

He finally looks up. “Among other things, yes.”

“The site is good,” I say. “Delilah had some thoughts on maximizing the view.”

His cool gray eyes take me in. “She did, did she?”

I meet his gaze unflinchingly. “Yes. She’s a very talented architect.”

“I’m sure it’s her architectural talents you’re interested in.”

I won’t confirm I’m sleeping with her, even if he suspects it, but I won’t let him disparage her skills, either. “She’s excellent at what she does, and you’d know that if you bothered to look at any of the plans.”

He looks down at his paperwork. “I don’t need to anymore. That’s your job. And I trust you to do it well.”

“I don’t think—” I stop when what he said sinks in. I never thought I’d hear those words from my older brother.

“Just make sure you’re thinking with the right head on this one, Cole. We can’t afford any mistakes, and we can’t afford to lose investors. Not unless we want to be the ones saying the company went down on our watch.” He pierces me with his gaze.

Ah, that’s more like the Roman I know. Still, I can’t help but question myself. Delilah already has me doing things I wouldn’t normally do. Am I letting myself get distracted from ensuring the company remains strong?

No. I have everything under control. Delilah and I are on the same page. There’s nothing to stop us from enjoying each other’s bodies while still focusing on doing our jobs, and I’m not just saying that because I can’t wait to get her alone again.

“I understand your concerns. But you have nothing to worry about.”

He studies me for a few seconds longer, then nods. “There’s something else. We need to bring the timeline for submission forward by two weeks.”

“Why?”

He leans back in his chair and rubs a hand over his eyes. “I’ve just heard from legal. There are new requirements for environmental impact studies, which will affect the Dallas and Phoenix sites. I don’t want to announce a delay if we apply and then need to make adjustments post-application. So—”

“So, we apply early and get feedback with enough time to make adjustments and still resubmit in time to make our original timeline.”

Roman nods. “Can you do it?”

The team is good. I have no doubt they can pull it off. “I’ll call a meeting this morning and let them know. I don’t anticipate a problem.”

“Good. Let me know if any issues crop up,” he says.

I stand, straightening my cuffs as I do so.

“Don’t forget, there’s the Manhattan Philanthropy Gala the weekend after next. It wouldn’t hurt to turn up with Jessica. There’ll be a lot of press there, and being seen with Berrington’s daughter will send a message to anyone harboring concerns about the company’s stability.”

If he’s worried I’ll turn up with Delilah on my arm, he should know better. The past weekend aside, what she and I are doing will remain strictly behind closed doors. “I know what’s required,” I say, then I stride toward the door, leaving his office and returning to mine.

I stop off at Samson’s desk and ask him to organize a meeting with the architects. Then I sit at my desk to start addressing various issues that flared up while I was gone. Five minutes later, Samson buzzes me to let me know he’s scheduled the meeting for after lunch. While I wait for a call from our UK office, I take a second to think about seeing Delilah today. I hadn’t planned to. The last thing I want is to set up an expectation that this is anything more than a casual physical relationship. And yet I can’t deny that the thought doesn’t exactly make me unhappy.

Visions of Friday night and Saturday morning invade my head, and arousal simmers in my blood. Luckily, my phone rings, distracting me. As I pick up, I have a smile on my face, and it’s not in anticipation of talking about market conditions in Europe.

I’ve got a lot planned for Delilah over the next few weeks. I hope she’s prepared.

AS I FLICK through the messages Samson forwarded to me, I sense Delilah enter the meeting room. I glance up to see her gorgeous green eyes land on me. She looks as sexy as hell in a white silk blouse that’s unbuttoned just enough to reveal a hint of cleavage, and a pencil skirt that emphasizes her slender waist and the curve of her hips. Her lips tip up before her attention darts away, as if worried someone will catch her smiling at me.

Paul walks in next and decides to sit next to her. My eyes narrow. Delilah doesn’t look at him and deliberately angles her body away. I sweep the room and find Bruce, Elite’s new project liaison, sitting at the end of the table. Luckily for Paul, he did what he promised, and Philippa quietly disappeared from the office. I was half-expecting to get a call from one of Elite’s senior partners about the request, but none came, so he must have thought of a convincing enough reason for her removal.

I would have thought he was smart enough to leave Delilah alone, though. I don’t know why he thinks sitting next to her is a good idea. Surely he doesn’t think he can win her back. The idea of him trying should make me laugh. After all, Delilah is far too smart to give him any more chances. And yet, as he shifts closer to her, my fingers tighten around my pen, and I have a sudden urge to stalk over there, rip him out of his chair, and throw him out of the room. See him try to explain that to his senior partners.

Where the hell are these irrational thoughts coming from? I shake my head. I need to concentrate on this meeting, not the strangeness of my reactions when it comes to Delilah.

I clear my throat, and all conversation at the table dies. I start the meeting, updating everyone on the revised project timeline. Looking directly at Paul, I mention the visit Delilah and I made to the Chicago site on Friday. By the way his jaw clenches, I get the feeling he suspects something more than work went on during the trip.

He’s right, of course, but I don’t give a fuck if he suspects something. There’s nothing he can do about it except regret his actions. I just give him a cool smile that makes his fist clench on the table before he looks down at his legal pad and picks up his pen as if he’s taking notes.

After I get a rundown from everyone on their plans for the week ahead, I open the floor to questions. Once that’s wrapped up, I end the meeting and stand, making my way to the door as the team gathers their notes and follows me out.

Using the excuse of pausing to fire off a quick email to Roman on my phone, I wait for Delilah to exit the room. When she emerges with Paul walking next to her, his head bent to talk directly in her ear, my muscles tense. I’m not sure what he’s saying to her, but from the stiff expression on her face, she doesn’t seem happy about it. I resist the urge to intervene. After all, despite my new and disconcerting feelings of possessiveness, Delilah is more than capable of looking after herself.

She stops and faces him, putting a hand up and pushing against his chest, forcing him to give her some space. I can’t see what she’s saying, but her chin is up, her delicate jaw firm as she talks. Paul scowls and rubs his hand over his mouth, but he nods and takes a step back. Delilah continues toward the elevator.

“Miss West. Can I see you in my office?” I say.

She looks startled, as if she hadn’t even noticed me standing there, but she nods and changes course.

My eyes meet Paul’s, and I can tell by the anger simmering there that he knows—or at least strongly suspects—that I’m fucking her. It shouldn’t give me so much pleasure, but it does. And I let it show on my face.

I’m still smirking as I turn my back on him and follow Delilah to my office. I can almost feel the daggers he’s shooting into my back, but I couldn’t give a fuck if he’s pissed or not. He screwed up with Delilah. Twice. He doesn’t deserve her.

I catch up with her as she stops outside my door.

“What do you want to—”

“Inside,” I say, pushing the door open and ushering her in with a hand on her back. I don’t bother to check whether Paul is still watching.

As soon as I close the door, I turn and press her against it, swallowing her gasp as my hands roam over her curves.

“Cole, what are you doing?” she breathes as my lips skim over the smooth skin of her neck.

I wrap her hair around my fist and tilt her head so she’s looking up at me. “What was Paul saying to you?”

She blinks. “He asked what happened while we were in Chicago.”

“What did you tell him?”

She presses her full lips together. “I told him that considering he didn’t think I had a right to know he was sleeping with Philippa when we were together, he doesn’t have a right to know who I’m sleeping with when we’re not.”

That’s my girl.

I tug her head back and brush my lips over the pulse point fluttering at the base of her throat. “What time are you finishing today?”

“I’ll probably work until six.”

“Come home with me tonight.” I wince, even as I hear myself say the words. I don’t take women back to my penthouse. It’s my private sanctuary. But now that I’ve said it, I can’t take it back. If I take her to the hotel where we shared our first night, she’ll have questions.

Turns out I don’t have to worry about that, though.

“I can’t tonight. I’m having dinner with Alex. I’m going there straight from work.”

She’s blowing me off to have dinner with another man? “Who’s Alex?” Even to me, my voice sounds rougher than usual.

“My roommate. We have a standing dinner date every Monday. She’s missing her fiancé, so I don’t want to skip it.”

I didn’t know my muscles had tightened, but they relax now. Although I’m not particularly happy that I won’t have her tonight, it’s the visceral response I had to the thought of her having dinner with another man that’s concerning. Even though I agreed with her stipulation to keep this arrangement exclusive, I wasn’t expecting to be bothered by who she spent her time with.

“Okay,” I say curtly, letting her go and making my way to my desk.

She’s still standing by the door when I sit down. She’s tucked in her blouse and looks put together again. As gorgeous as she is, I prefer seeing her with signs of my touch all over her.

“I’m free tomorrow night,” she says, her head tilted as she studies me.

“I have plans.” It’s true. It’s also something I could reorganize, but my irrationally possessive reactions coupled with Roman’s earlier words of warning have me suddenly needing to rein in my desire for her—to prove to myself that I have this thing under control.

She stands there for a moment, watching me, and even now I’m fighting the urge to go over there, shove my hand up her skirt, and push my fingers into slick heat.

“I have to go,” she says.

“Okay.”

She hesitates another second, but when I don’t say more, she turns and slips out the door.

I lean back in my chair and pinch the bridge of my nose.

What the hell is going on with me?