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“Delilah,” he says.
“What is it you want to say, Cole?” I’m glad my voice is steady. Steadier than I feel, anyway.
“Why haven’t you responded to my messages?”
“Because I don’t want to talk to you.”
He lets out a sigh that seems to be made up of sheer irritation. “Obviously you saw the photos.”
His tone fuels my anger. “Yes.” It comes out through gritted teeth.
“It isn’t what you think.” There’s no apology in his voice. He doesn’t believe he’s done anything worth apologizing for. Or maybe it’s that I’m not worth apologizing to.
“Really? Do you mean it’s not you kissing another woman when you told me you wouldn’t be with anyone else while we were together? Or do you mean it isn’t you kissing Jessica, who you told me you weren’t involved with?”
“I told you that Jessica and I aren’t in a relationship, and we never have been.”
“I’m not stupid, Cole. You’re either straight up lying to me, or you’re lying by omission. I may not be that experienced with men, but I can guarantee that’s not how you kiss a woman who’s just an acquaintance.”
There’s a pause on the phone. He knows he’s been caught. “I have a shareholder meeting in half an hour that I can’t miss, but I’ll send Jonathan to get you tonight, and I’ll explain it to you,” he finally says.
“I’m not interested in seeing you.”
“Being immature about this isn’t helping.” His tone lowers. “At least give me the respect of listening to what I have to say.”
A bright flash goes off behind my eyes. “Respect? You’re talking to me about respect? You guessed I saw the photos, which is why you’ve been messaging me. Which means you already knew exactly how seeing them would make me feel, and you know that because it’s how most normal human beings would feel when they realize they’ve been played. So don’t make me out to be childish for reacting exactly the way you expected me to. My lack of response to your messages and phone calls should have told you I needed time to deal with my emotions, but you refused to give it to me. Instead, you’ve decided the best way to handle this is to harass me, then when I answer, you tell me I’m being immature.”
My fingers tighten around my phone. “I asked you straight to your face about Jessica, Cole. I wanted to know what I was getting myself into if I said yes to you. To protect myself from getting hurt. But rather than tell me the truth, you said what you needed to say to get what you wanted. You humiliated me. And you h-hurt me.” I was doing so well, but I lose it at the end as more tears well up.
“Delilah—”
I gather myself together. “No, Cole. I’m not done. You’re obviously used to getting what you want when you want it. You obviously don’t care what you have to do or say to get it. So, if what you wanted when you kissed Jessica Friday night was a quick and easy way to get rid of the immature workplace hookup that’s been hanging around a little too long, congratulations. You got it.”
With a trembling finger, I end the call, then slump back on the couch and let the tears fall.
CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT
COLE
Ibarely stop myself from flinging my phone against the wall. This. This is why I’m not interested in relationships. I tried to do the right thing, and look where it’s gotten me. I shove my chair back and stand, striding to the window and looking out at New York spread below me.
Maybe it’s better if she ends it anyway. I’ve got too much going on with work at the moment, and spending so much time with one woman might be a novelty, but that was always going to wear off eventually.
So why the hell does my chest feel so fucking tight? The way her voice wavered when she told me I hurt her had sliced right through my ribs and into my heart. When was the last time anything had reached that frozen organ?
I brace one hand against the glass and stare down at the streets below. Looking down on everyone from up here normally makes me feel alive. It makes me feel in control. But it’s not working now.
I need to get my mind off Delilah and back where it belongs. As Roman already hinted, she’s become a distraction I don’t need. It’s better for both of us if it’s over.
I sit down, but instead of preparing for my meeting, I open a browser and search for the photos from Friday night. They flash in front of me, and I wince. I’d put on a good act when Jessica kissed me. With the rumors of her father’s wavering support, I didn’t want to reject her publicly. While we won’t go under if Berrington pulls his investments, I don’t want his pack of cronies following his lead. The last thing we need is a panicked exodus for no reason other than I embarrassed his daughter.
Unfortunately, my lack of negative reaction to her kiss comes across in the photos as enthusiasm.
I frown and lean back in my chair, scrubbing my hand over my face as regret pulls at cords inside me that haven’t been pulled in a long time.
Just then, my door swings open and Tate saunters in. He stops, his eyebrows rising as he takes me in. Then he grins and continues into the room, taking a seat and stretching out his long legs.
“I’m not used to you looking so out of sorts,” he says. “What’s the occasion?”
