Billionaires Dollar Series

The smile he aims me is patronizing. “I’m to measure the building on the outside, which requires no agreement from you. Free country, after all.” He has me beat, and he can see it on my face, because he gives a slick nod. “You have a good day, now.”

He strolls out of the bookstore, measurer in hand, like he does this all the time. My fingers ache from clenching so hard around the edge of the counter. If this was a cartoon, smoke would be coming out of my ears, I’m so angry. A wrecking ball, he said. His boss’s boss.

So much for honoring agreements, it seems. Porter Development seems intent on tearing the building down. Are Karli and I going to become the next Ben Simmons?

My hands fly furiously as I write a text to Cole.

Skye Holland: I close up the store soon. Can I come to yours after?

His response doesn’t take long, and it’s thankfully in a text, too. I’m not sure I could’ve kept my emotions hidden on the phone, and this is a conversation I want to have in person.

Cole Porter: Yes. I’ll be home by seven.

I’m in the lobby of the Amena at six fifty-eight. My fingers twitch at my side, too pumped up on adrenaline and nerves for my own good. Potential scenarios dance in my mind. Him admitting that our casual affair was all just amusement, that he had never planned to honor the agreement. The crooked smile twisted sardonically.

Or, worse, him telling me that the bookstore had never had a shot in the first place, eyes as patronizing as the handyman he’d sent today. My nerves increase with each floor I pass on my way up to his penthouse.

The elevator doors open to an empty hallway. He’s not in the kitchen, either. I lean around the corner, peering toward the living room. “Cole?”

“Coming!”

He emerges from his home office, a hand tugging at the tie around his neck. “You came fast.”

“I sure did. What happened today?”

“What do you mean?”

“You sent one of your men to the bookstore today.”

His face grows still. “I absolutely did not.”

“A certain Max Blakefield seemed to think otherwise. He showed up to measure the store for a correctly sized wrecking ball. Said the place would be razed within a month-and that if I believed otherwise, I’d better talk to his boss’s boss.” I spread my arms wide. “So here I am.”

Cole is shaking his head slowly. “I don’t know a Max Blakefield. Must be one of our contractors.”

“He was wearing a shirt with your logo. Looked like a builder.” My eyes snag on his expensive suit, stretching taut across his frame. “A real builder, I mean. He was wearing boots and work pants.”

There’s a silken thread of warning in his voice. “He was wrong. The company still plans to honor its agreement.”

“You mean you do.”

“Yes,” he says, like that’s the same thing. But it’s not.

“Your employees seem to think otherwise.” I swallow hard, lifting my chin, meeting his gaze head-on. “We saw the article yesterday. Karli is doubting that you honor agreements at all.”

“Ah.” He grinds the word out between his teeth. “So that’s what this is really about, huh? And is Karli the only one who is doubting?”

“I have some doubts too,” I say honestly. Doubts about us. What you’ve been doing. And why you’ve been doing it.

“Nine hundred words in a newspaper, and you’re rattled. I thought you were a writer yourself, Skye. You know how things are twisted.” The words are playful, but his tone is not.

“So it’s not true? What he said in the interview?” I ask. Cole just stares at me, and the silence grows heavy between us in a way it never has before. I’m furious about my own vulnerability to him-that I care so much about the answer. That I’ve given him this power over me.

“Did I make Ben Simmons sign an NDA?” he asks, voice trembling with barely concealed fury. “Yes. Did I cut him off from the business? Yes. And I’d do it again in a heartbeat, Skye.”

My chest feels like it’s collapsing, constricting, anger and fear choking off a response.

“And now you’re wondering about my character,” he continues. “What I would do to get what I want.”

I give a shallow nod, clenching my fists hard enough that my nails dig into my palm. “They say you’re ruthless. That you always win. Maybe you knowingly sent one of your men to the bookstore today to rattle us. Maybe you didn’t, but you might as well have, Cole. We made a deal.”

“Hold on,” he warns.

But my thoughts are leaping from one conclusion to another. “All this time, I thought sleeping with me was fun for you. Good sex. Maybe it was for sport, too. But now… was it to throw me off balance? To gain leverage?”

A swift shadow crosses over his face, jaw hardening. “What?”

“You don’t like to lose. Ben Simmons confirmed it. You just confirmed it, when you said he’d spoken true.”

Cole starts undoing the cuffs of his shirt in harsh, quick movements. “No, I don’t like to lose. Neither do you, by the way. We’re both competitive.”

“I can be an asshole sometimes. You’ve pointed that out yourself. But to the best of my knowledge, I’m not amoral.”

“I didn’t imply that you were.”

“You just asked me if I’m fucking you to gain the upper hand in our business deal. Not that I understand how that would help me, exactly. Does your business lose profit, one orgasm at a time?” He shakes his head, an unhappy smile on his face. “I’m not, by the way.”

My throat feels like it’s closing in on itself. “You admitted to cutting off your best friend. How could I not ask?”

Cole braces his hands against the kitchen counter. “You want to know the real truth about Ben and Elena, his loving wife? Ben and I built the business together. I did most of the strategizing and he brought on investors. Always had a good eye for marketing and building a story.” He takes a deep breath, shaking his head. “Toward the end, he wasn’t pulling his weight. Skipping out on business trips. Making bad decisions without consulting me. But he was my best friend, so I gave him second chances.”

“Oh,” I breathe.

His voice hardens. “Elena didn’t like me working so much. She was my fiancée, by the way. They didn’t mention that in their little interview.” He looks away from me, jaw working. “They’d been sleeping together for nearly two years when I found out.”

“Oh, Cole…”

“So yes, I forced him out. It wasn’t hard. I had our staff’s loyalty, the majority of our shares, our clients’ trust. But I left him with more money than anyone should need in a lifetime.”

He pushes away from the counter, shrugging off his suit jacket and dropping it on his couch. “Is that enough humiliation for you? Or do you want to accuse me of something else?”

“Cole…”

“Spare me the pity, please. I’ve had more than enough of that from my own staff.”

I swallow against the dryness in my throat. I feel rooted to the spot, not sure if I should go to him or leave him alone. I’d come here to talk, to get to the bottom of things, to make sense of it all. And I’m left feeling like it all went sideways somehow, without knowing where it went wrong.

“Don’t worry,” he calls out, not bothering to turn around. “We’re just sleeping together. Your business deal still stands.”Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.