Throb

“How do you think I feel? He held your hand on stage. I couldn’t even watch. It fucking kills me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“We can end this right now. My offer is still good. In fact, nothing would make me happier than to take care of your family and leave with you right now.”

“I can’t, Cooper. I just can’t. I wish it was that easy.”

“You make it harder than it needs to be.”

“I need to take care of my own family. It’s a lot of money and it’s my responsibility.”

“I don’t care about the money. I need to take care of you.”

My eyes close. It would be so much easier to give in. Not worry about the house, Kyle’s therapy, leading Flynn on. “I’m sorry.” I hold back the tears, but my voice cracks.

Cooper’s hands reach up and cup my face, his thumb runs along my bottom lip. “I want to be the one holding your hand in public. I want to be the one to wrap my arm around your waist when another man comes near.” His lips brush against mine.

“We shouldn’t …” I weakly attempt to protest. Undone by the possessive rawness of his strained words, I stop trying to push him away and join him, chasing something we both need in the moment more than the air that we breathe.

“You feeling better?” Flynn asks when I return to my seat. “You got some color in your cheeks back.”

“Ummm … yes. Thank you.” I’m grateful it’s dark because my color has just deepened to a lovely shame of crimson.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Cooper return to his seat. I had to make him promise to wait five minutes before coming back, I wouldn’t have put it past him to follow right behind me, zipper intentionally open. As if she’s a magnet and he’s metal, Tatiana leans toward him the moment he sits.

I force my eyes away from his table and let them drift over the crowd. When they fall upon the man sitting directly across from me, I’m startled at what I find. Miles is seething, nostrils flaring, his unblinking eyes fixed on me in an angry stare.

Chapter thirty-three

Cooper

Daylight has barely dawned as I make my way to the office. Leaving Kate lying in my bed, her hair splayed across a pillow and naked body beneath the sheets, was virtually impossible to do. But I’m meeting with my lawyers at seven to go over the terms of the union negotiation before I sit at the table and shake hands on the final deal.

My face is speckled with day-old stubble I had every intention of shaving until I walked into the bedroom and caught a glimpse of her bare ass peeking out. The decision to use the little time I had for other things was an easy one, especially when she mentioned she liked my five o’clock shadow right before I sunk into her.

I find myself thinking about what it would be like to wake up to her beside me everyday. To fall asleep to the sound of her light breaths and vision of her sweet mouth twitching up at the sides as she escapes into dreamland. The realization hits me when I least expect it: I’m in love with Kate Monroe.

The office is empty this early in the morning. I grab coffee, dig out my notes, and start to head to the conference room. Miles’s appearance in my doorway surprises me. “I don’t have time. I have a meeting with my attorneys in five minutes.”

“Make time,” he says with an angry bite.

“Not now, Miles,” I warn.

He ignores me and sits on the couch.

I blow out a frustrated breath, prepared to leave him in my office. Whatever he wants can wait. “What do you need?”

“I need you to keep away from Kate,” he says with an icy tone and a glare to match.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me right.”

I stare at him. There’s an eerie flatness to his voice, cold and loathsome. I freeze.

A slow smile spreads across his face. “I finally have your attention.”

“What game are we playing, Miles?”

He taps his fingers on a jewel case and then looks up to me. “You can have any woman in the world you want. Women fucking throw themselves at you.”

I stay quiet. He needs to show his hand before one of us raises the stakes.

“I let you have your fun. Fucking strolling though Barbados without a care in the world. Without a concern for me. But last night …” His fists ball at his sides. “Fucking that whore in a coat closet.”

Impetuously, I grab him by his shirt with two hands. “Don’t fucking call her that.”

“You’re ruining my show!” he growls in my face.

“It’s a stupid fucking show. She’s playing along for the camera. It’s not ruining anything.”

“You’re a selfish asshole. Dad’s not here anymore. Yet you still need to prove you’re better than me every day … purposely sabotaging my show just to prove something to a dead man.”

“You’re delusional. I’m not sabotaging anything.”

“Ratings are flat. People are tired of watching America’s Sweetheart refute Flynn’s advances. They want to see the action, need to believe she sucks his dick behind closed doors.”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” I spit, tightening my grip. My veins pulse with seething rage.

“Break it off.”

“Screw you.”

“My show is going to get ratings, one way or the other. We can do it the easy way or the hard way. You decide.” Miles breaks free from my grip and heads toward the door. He stops and tosses an envelope and DVD on the couch. “I don’t suspect the video of you two fucking outside of the guest house will sway you. You’re so goddamn full of yourself, you’d probably secretly like seeing your big dick flashed on every news network.” He pauses. “I knew something was going on when Damian told me you came to him for an investigation on Kate. Did you really think he wouldn’t play us against each other for a bigger payout?”