Thank god the design phase of the project is almost over. Another two weeks and all the detailed plans will be finalized, then I can get out of here. Not only out of this building, but out of New York. At least temporarily. Possibly permanently.
It’s been two weeks since Cole broke my heart. One week since news of the engagement went public. I haven’t seen him since he left my apartment. Weekly meetings have been taken over by Tate, much to my relief. Having to sit across a table from Cole right now would be unbearable.
The morning after Cole’s visit, I sucked it up and spoke to Paul, notifying him of my intention to take a leave of absence after the final designs have been signed off. As much as I might like to stay through the construction phase, my heart is too sore to allow it. The thought of running into Jessica around the building—or worse, Cole and Jessica together—is too much to bear. Instead, I’m going home to spend some time with Mom and maybe interview with some of the architectural firms in the area.
It’s not that I don’t love New York and living with Alex, but I miss my mom, and now with Paul and Cole serving as constant reminders of my bad decisions, it seems like maybe home is where I should be. I may not see Cole anymore, but this building is still filled with his presence.
“Delilah,” Paul says, appearing next to my desk.
I put down my pen and swivel in my chair to face him. “How can I help you, Paul?”
He frowns at my terse tone, the way he always does when we speak these days. As if he’s surprised I don’t want to talk to him any more than I have to.
“You know how I told you a while ago that the King Group had entered our design concepts into the H+ Design Awards?”
I nod.
“Well, the good news is we’re now finalists, so we’re invited to attend the awards ceremony. It’s the weekend before you go on leave, but you’re expected to attend as one of the design team.”
“I understand,” I say. He turns to walk away, but I stop him. “Will . . .” I clear my throat. “Will C—Mr. King be there?”
He knows what I’m asking and doesn’t hide the smugness in his expression. “Of course they’ll all be attending. And I’m sure Cole will want to show off his lovely new fiancée too.”
I don’t allow myself to react, knowing that’s what he wants. And when I don’t, he huffs out a breath and leaves. I turn back to my computer, closing my eyes and letting out a sigh. This is going to be a nightmare.
To make myself feel better, I double-check my flights for home, then pull up the email I received three days ago from a senior partner at Abbott-Bennett, one of the most prestigious architecture firms in Raleigh. I skim over it, gnawing on my lip as I read.
Dear Delilah,
Thank you so much for your expression of interest in our firm. I’ve had a look over your credentials and achievements, and I must say that I’m very impressed. Since you’ve said you’ll be in the area in a few weeks’ time, we’d love to set up a time for you to meet myself and the other partners. If this is of interest to you, please reach out to my executive assistant and organize a date and time that suits you. I’ve given her your details and she’ll be waiting for your call.
I’ve been delaying making the call. Not because the firm wouldn’t be wonderful to work for, but because it feels like I’m running away from New York with my tail between my legs. Even though I love the idea of living closer to Mom, I know a part of my heart will always be here in New York.
Or is it with Cole?
I can’t think like that. Cole took my heart and threw it back in my face, choosing instead to be with a woman he told me he has no interest in. He either lied to me back then, or the feelings I imagined he had for me were only in my head. Because there’s no way he could marry Jessica if he feels for me what I feel for him.
Felt for him.
The pain rushing through me solidifies my intentions. As soon as I get home this evening, I’ll call and arrange an interview time.
“DO I HAVE TO GO?” I moan. It’s two weeks later, and my hotel designs have been officially signed off and submitted to the King Group’s in-house construction planning team.
In a rare show of appreciation, Cole is hosting an extravagant dinner tonight to celebrate the team’s hard work, but I claimed a migraine and came home instead. Paul tried to strong-arm me into attending, but I refused. It’s bad enough I have to see Cole tomorrow at this award ceremony. The thought of sitting across a table from him for hours tonight is intolerable.
“Yes, you have to go,” Alex says, bringing me back to our current topic of conversation. She gives me a firm look. “Don’t let him win. You will walk in there with your head held high like the brave, beautiful, talented woman you are.”
I slump back on my bed while she marches to my closet and starts brusquely sorting through my dresses, of which I don’t have many appropriate for the occasion. She makes an approving noise and pulls out one, holding it up with an assessing eye. Then she turns and thrusts it toward me.
“You will wear this. You will look stunning. You will make him swallow his tongue. And you will make him regret every single decision he’s made in the last month. Hell, maybe in his whole life.”
I take the dress and look at her. “What if he doesn’t? What if he looks at me, then looks at Jessica and thinks, ‘Thank god I made the right choice’?”
Alex comes over, takes the dress out of my hands, and lays it carefully on the bed before wrapping me in her arms.
“It doesn’t matter, Dee, because what he thinks is inconsequential. You have so much in front of you, and since he’s an asshole and obviously not your person, that means you still have your great love ahead of you. One day you’ll meet the man of your dreams and Cole will be a distant memory. He’ll be married to that bitch and living a miserable existence.” She gives me a fierce smile. “Just hold that in your head, act as if he doesn’t affect you, and realize you will get through this and come out stronger on the other side.”
My spirits lift and I give her another swift hug. “Thank you so much.”
“Anytime, babe.” She sits down next to me. “I know this probably isn’t the best time, but I’ve got some good news.”
“I can do with some good news, so hit me.”
Her smile is bright. “Jaxson called this morning, and he and the guys have decided not to move to LA. They’re going to base themselves out of New York.”
“Oh my god, Alex. That’s fantastic!” This time it’s me throwing my arms around her.
Her laugh sounds slightly giddy. “He told me to get my ass in gear and find us some apartments to check out.”
I’m so happy for her, I really am, and I make sure to hide just how much my heart is breaking. Even though the pain in my chest is overwhelming at the moment, the smile on Alex’s face gives me a glimmer of hope that one day the hurt will ease, and I’ll know the same happiness as Alex.
Hopefully that little glimmer is enough to get me through tomorrow.
MY HAND SHAKES as I steal a glass of champagne off the waitress’s tray. Well-dressed men and women fill the ballroom, flitting around, talking architecture. At any other time, I’d love to network and discuss the ins and outs of sustainable design, but waiting for the moment when Cole and Jessica make an appearance has me twitchy. I’ve yet to see them, and any bravado that Alex instilled in me has already begun to drain away.
“Hello, Delilah.”
I spin around and frown. “I’m really not interested in talking to you, Paul.” I look around. “Where’s Philippa?”
He scowls. “We’re not together.”
I don’t feign interest. “What a shame for you.”
“Don’t be like that,” he says, stroking his fingers down my forearm. “She was never you. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“I do. You were thinking you could have your cake and eat it too. You were wrong. Now I’d appreciate it if you leave me alone.”
“Delilah,” he starts, but before he can continue, a large figure slides between us.
My heart jumps when I think it might be Cole, but golden eyes meet mine, not blue.
“I think the lady has made herself clear, don’t you?” Tate’s cold voice and large presence are enough to intimidate Paul, whose eyes dart between us.
He lets out a bitter laugh. “Wow, were you sleeping with all three brothers, or just the two?”
Tate doesn’t move, so it must be his expression that makes Paul shuffle back a step.
“I should be so fucking lucky,” he growls. “And you know it, too. Which is why you’re trying to worm your way back into her life. You had your chance and you screwed it up, so how about you go sleep it off in the bed you made for yourself.”
With one last piercing look, Paul slinks off and Tate turns to me, his lips tilted up in a smile.
I let out a breath. “Thank you.”
He shakes his head. “I’m sure you would have handled him yourself. I just don’t like his face much.”
I laugh and he tilts his head at me. “You know you have awful taste in men, right?”
My heart pangs. “I know.” My lower lip trembles before I can stop it, and his eyes drop to it. He reaches up and brushes my hair from my face.
“You deserve better.”
I stare at him in confusion. Is he flirting with me?
He grins and leans closer. “Just go with it, beautiful.”
His eyes dart over my head and I stiffen, certain of what his wicked smile means. Cole and Jessica are here.
“Why are you doing this?” I murmur.
His gaze meets mine, a serious expression darkening his eyes, somehow making him even more good looking. “Because at one time we actually were brothers.”
I don’t know the full story behind Cole’s relationship with Tate and Roman, but I know enough to understand there’s pain there. I put my hand on his arm. “You’ll always be brothers. Don’t let go of what you have because it’s hard. You’re all still here. You still have each other.”
His eyes search mine for a moment before the mischief sparks back to life. “My brother really is making a mistake.”
I shrug, unsure what to say, and he laughs. Then he takes my barely touched champagne from my hand and downs it before placing it on the table behind him.
“Come on,” he says, putting his hand on my back and guiding me to the bar. “I need something harder than champagne.”
In my peripheral vision, I glimpse a tall, dark-haired form with a statuesque blonde at his side. I deliberately don’t look in Cole’s direction. He doesn’t deserve my attention and I refuse to give it to him, even though I can sense his gaze on me.
“Whiskey?” Tate asks me, and I flash back to the first night I met Cole. My first instinct is to say no, but then I square my shoulders. Maybe I just need to go back to that moment and redo it. Pretend I never went home with Cole.
“Yes, thanks.”
He orders, and when we receive our drinks, he turns so he’s leaning back against the bar.
I match him. I don’t intend to look for Cole, but I’m unable to avoid him because he’s directly in my line of sight and staring right at me. His brows are lowered, his lips in a tight line.
Seeing him for the first time in weeks sends a jolt of pain through me, but I refuse to let it show. I stare back as coolly as I can. Our eyes are locked, but I have no idea what’s going through his head. I want to look away, but it’s as if I’m trapped in his gaze.
Until Jessica breaks his focus. She presses herself against him and he looks down at her, his hand coming to rest on her waist as if on automatic.
Pain punches the air from my lungs and tears blur my vision. Damn him. And damn my stupid emotions. Before I can look away, his gaze is back on me and I know, I just know, he can read the hurt on my face because I didn’t have time to school my expression.
I lift my whiskey, throw it back, then gasp and shudder in response. But the burn of the liquid is exactly what I need. I put the empty glass on the bar, ready to excuse myself from Tate’s presence, but he stops me before I have a chance by cupping my cheek and sweeping his thumb over my lower lip, then raising it to his mouth. I freeze when his tongue flicks out to taste the drop of whiskey that must have clung there.
He hums in approval.
“W-What—”
“You’d better go,” he says. “He’s on his way over.”
I don’t hesitate, spinning and walking away. I’m sick of this, of the two of them and whatever it is they’ve got going on. Of the games that rich people play with people’s emotions. Of feeling hurt all the time.
I’ll get tonight over with, and then I’ll be done with all of them.
I keep walking as raised voices beat against my back. How dare Cole be pissed off. He has no right. No damn right.
I’m heading for the large balcony when a clawed hand grips my arm. I stop and turn, my eyes narrowing as they meet Jessica’s icy glare.
“I know what you’re doing,” she hisses.
“You don’t know anything.”
“Trying to play brother against brother. It’s a cheap tactic and it won’t work. Cole chose me. He was always going to choose me. This world will always be his priority, and unlike you, I’m a part of this world. So just accept it and move on.”
My eyes dart over her shoulder to see Cole bearing down on us, a furious expression on his face. Behind him, Tate is adjusting the lapels of his suit, as if Cole had grabbed him there.
I turn back to Jessica and wrench my arm away from her.
“I’m not playing anyone, and if you think I have any interest in being a part of this world, you couldn’t be more wrong. I want nothing to do with any of you.” My eyes meet Cole’s again, even as I continue to address Jessica. “You’re all miserable people living miserable lives, where the only joy you seem to have is playing games with other people’s emotions. You’re welcome to each other. I’d rather live a real life with real people and real love than dirty myself with whatever it is that passes for relationships in your world.”
I spin on my heel and walk to the balcony with my spine straight and my head held high, trying my best to hold back the tears filling my eyes.
I slip out the door and rush to the balustrade, gripping it and leaning out to take a deep breath. Before I can take more than one lungful of the crisp air, a hard body presses against me.
My whole being reacts to his presence, my muscles loosening, my fingers itching to reach back and bury themselves in his hair. But a split second later, my head takes back control.
“Get off me, Cole,” I hiss. “Your fiancée is inside, and you don’t have the right to touch me anymore.”
He doesn’t budge, his hands dropping to my hips, his fingers pressing into my flesh while his lips find the crook of my neck.
“I can’t do it,” he rasps, his hot breath sending goose bumps skittering over my skin. “I can’t do it.”
“What?” My voice trembles. “What can’t you do?”
He doesn’t answer, only pulls me tighter against him. “It’s not supposed to be this hard. I thought I could do it, but seeing you with him tonight, I can’t . . .”
So it was just seeing me with Tate that made him jealous. So damn typical.
I shove back as hard as I can, and he finally gives me enough room to turn around. I meet his gaze, but the blaze in his eyes doesn’t electrify me the way it used to. In this moment, looking at his stupidly handsome face drawn tight with tension, I hate him more than I’ve ever hated anyone in my life. Even my father. At least he never pretended to care about me.
“Well, let me make it easy for you,” I say, not recognizing my own voice. “I’m going to walk back into that ballroom. I’m going to listen to the award ceremony. I’m not going to talk to you or Jessica or Tate. I won’t even look in your direction. Then, as soon as it’s over, I’m going to walk out of here and forget about you, and you’re going to do the same, Cole. Because whatever I thought we had was a lie and a joke, and I have no intention of dwelling on it. When I finally meet the man I will love for the rest of my life, you will be a distant memory. Now get out of my way.”
His posture is rigid, his face frozen, as if carved from stone. He stares at me, the fire in his eyes dimming until they’re blank pools of icy blue. He steps aside and I brush past him into the ballroom, where I proceed to do exactly what I said I would do. I join the Elite team, keep my eyes fixed on the stage, clap as the awards are announced, and even muster a genuine smile when our team receives the award for Sustainable Hotel Design Concept. I do all of it. All except the part where I said I’d forget all about him. It’s too hard to forget when my heart is breaking all over again as the truth of my own words rings in my ears.
What I thought he felt for me was a lie—one I was responsible for telling myself.
