Tristan Cole

Liora Hayes

I never thought I’d see Tristan Cole again.

Not after what he did.

But here I am, inside Cole Enterprises.

The name alone felt like a bitter pill scraping down my throat as I forced my feet to move forward, each step feeling heavier than the last.

I handed the black card I’d received, along with the most recent letter to the receptionist.

She barely glanced at it. “Take the elevator to the top floor. You’ll see a glass door on your right.”

“Alright. Thank you.”

Cole Enterprises was a reputable beast in the business world, powerful, untouchable. And when the CEO Tristan Cole got involved, nothing good ever came out of it. So yes, every fiber in me screamed not to be here.

I stepped into the elevator and closed my eyes, letting the mechanical hum drown out my thoughts.

And as the elevator doors slid shut, I shoved every conflicting thought to the back of my mind.

By the time it reached the top floor, I was feeling numb.

I stepped out into a sleek, open-plan hallway, and to the right as she had said was a glass door, I walked closer and I knocked.

“Come in.” The familiar voice that still haunts my dreams replied behind the door.

I opened the door at once, and entered, then I saw him.

There he was, standing by the window with his back turned away from me, overlooking the city like he owned it. The tailored charcoal suit he had on was hugging him like it had been stitched onto his skin. He turned slowly at my entrance, and that face, God, that face was just as I remembered.

Except now, he looked even better. Sharper. Stronger. Maybe even more prominent like a walking sin, with that perfectly sculptured face like someone who'd just stepped out of an oil painting.

God, I hated that he looked good.

“Liora,” he said in that same damn low rumble I remembered. No surprise. No warmth. Just the detached tone I’d grown to hate over the years.

“Tristan.” I answered simply, not making an attempt to step forward as I stared at him, fighting the flood of memories that was trying to invade my mind given that even though he hadn’t changed, I had.

I wasn’t that girl anymore. The one who cried behind closed doors while everything burned. The one he walked away from when it mattered most.

After all, I’d spent the last five years clawing my way back from the wreckage he left me in. Rebuilding my name, my life. However, I hated the fact that just standing here felt like it could all crumble again.

After what felt like a solid minute, I finally stepped closer, brought out a stack of envelopes and tossed them onto the desk between us as some fell in the process, “You want to tell me what this is about?”

He stepped away from the window, glancing lazily at them before locking eyes with me. “Business, Liora. Just business.”

“Is it?” I stepped forward, arm crossed. “Because the last time we saw, everything I had, my family, my life, was gone with the wind in the blink of an eye. So how about you drop the act and stop pretending you're here to offer anything but more manipulation?”

He didn’t even flinch.

Of course he didn’t.

He only studied me for a moment, then sighed softly, “The world’s changed, Liora. You. Me. FYS. Even now we both know what’s left of it is barely hanging on. And all I'm doing is offering you a way to fix things.”

“Fix? Has time messed with you so much you forgot who broke everything to begin with!?” I sneered, my fingers digging into my palm as I fought myself from jumping on this man and wriggling his head off.

“Mn” He hummed in response, tilting his head, “I tend to believe I'm still your best option.”

I almost laughed at how ridiculous that sounded, “Do I look like I give a damn? What do you think I came here to do? Hand you roses? Come on, you can shove your ‘best option’ thingy up your ass for all I care, Tristan, and one more thing, stop sending those annoying letters to my workplace. You won’t like it if I show up again.” I said at once before I spun to leave. But just when my hand touched the door knob—

“End-stage heart failure, you know he doesn’t have to die.” he said behind me and my blood froze.

He added, “Wouldn’t say you’re helping much, anyway. I mean, shifts at some cheap bar won’t keep him alive.”

I clenched the knob, knuckles turning white. I should’ve just twisted it and walked out. Should’ve slammed the door and never looked back.

But Caleb.

He knew. Of course he knew. And damn it, wasn't that exactly why I was here in the first place?

“You don’t get to talk about him.” I gnashed my teeth together as I turned to face him.

“I know,” he said. “But I just want to help.”

Of course he just ‘wants to help’ as though he's the God of mercy.

But as ridiculous as it may sound... Me being here was as a result of several weeks of pondering, thus I took a deep breath to calm myself down, “Don’t act like this is charity, we both know you wouldn't call yourself generous.”

This time, he finally smiled, “You might be right on that one. I’ve always been a businessman, you see? So helping you has to help me.” He clicked his tongue and poured himself a glass of red wine and took a sip. “After all, you don’t get to a position like this by making enemies of everyone.”

“I’m not biting, Tristan,” I said. “So can you stop beating about the bush and spit whatever it is out.”

He took a step closer, and I hated how my heart reacted, how it thudded traitorously in my chest.

“What I want is actually quite simple,” he said. “Marry me Liora. A contract marriage. That’s all I ask.” He paused, letting the silence tighten between us. “In return, I’ll make sure not only Caleb lives, but also revives your family name.”

I stared at him, stunned. And then I laughed. “A contract marriage? With you? You’re even more insane than I thought."

What makes him even think I’d ever agree to this?”

Well, the answer to that will be everything.

Because the proposition he was offering was tempting, too tempting, really. He was right about one thing: my family’s legacy was in ruins, I was running out of options to save Caleb and the rent of the run down apartment I lived with the two people I have left after father's family took what's left of him and threw us out, including Caleb hospital meds bills, down to father's debt was all on me.

Still, I wouldn't throw away my dignity in front of this man, thus I gave him a stiff, bitter smile. “You know what, Tristan?” I said through my teeth. “Go fuck yourself.”

But the Man only gave a small, knowing smile. “I wasn't expecting a quick response anyway, at the very least not from you. But just a little reminder. If you ever have a change of mind, you know how to find me.”

“In your dreams.” I sneered. Him making an offer impossible to refuse was one thing, but being damned if I give in was another thing. I'm not ready to submit, I was never the type, and I will never, not to a man like him.

I slammed the door behind me, but his words followed me like a shadow.

“Caleb doesn’t have to die.”

My chest tightened.

I hated that he could still get under my skin. Hated that no matter how much I wanted to forget, a part of me, deep down knew…

Maybe I did need his help.

I pressed the elevator button.

And I stepped inside.

But just as I stepped out of the building, my phone rang.