THE BILLIONAIRE’S BROKEN VOW

Chapter 8. Call me Cole.

~Kate~

I had barely made it through the rest of the day without combusting.

After Cole’s cryptic “You’ll be attending the dinner,” followed by a short nod and a look that was impossible to decipher, he’d returned to his desk as though nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t just stared me down five inches from my face, like he hadn’t caught me half-lying about knowing Sebastian Beaumont, like his presence hadn’t made my pulse throb in places I didn’t want to admit.

I told myself I didn’t care.

And yet, the moment my phone pinged with a message from Cole’s office—“You’ll be picked up by 6PM. Wear comfortable shoes.” my heart skipped. Twice.

So here I was, standing in front of the mirrored glass doors of one of the most high-end fashion boutiques in the city, wondering why my palms were sweating. A black car had pulled up to my apartment exactly on time. The driver had mentioned Cole’s name and nothing more. Now, as I stood under the warm glow of golden lights, I was trying really hard not to feel… seen.

The glass doors opened with a soft click, and there he was.

Cole. In a dark navy suit that fit like it was made for him…which it probably was. No tie, just the top button undone and that slightly tousled hair that somehow made him look more effortless than the day we met.

“You’re late,” he said, but his mouth twitched like he didn’t mind.

I folded my arms. “Technically, I’m exactly three minutes early.”

His eyes swept over me, pausing on the worn black flats I’d insisted were practical. “We’ll work on that.”

“Work on what?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he turned, pushing open the boutique doors wider, and gestured for me to follow.

The boutique was… another world.

Marble floors, soft music, an elegant assistant in head-to-toe black appeared out of nowhere and greeted Cole with a tone of respect that said she knew who he was.

“Mr. Harrighton,” she said with a small nod, “Everything is prepared in the private suite upstairs.”

Private suite? I blinked, but Cole was already walking toward the stairs. With a sigh and my chin up, I followed.

“Is this really necessary?” I asked once we reached the room…a luxurious dressing suite with racks of clothes that screamed money and taste.

“You’ll be representing my company at the dinner,” he replied coolly. “Looking the part is half the job.”

“I didn’t know you cared that much about appearances,” I muttered.

He paused, then gave me a slow look. “I do… when it matters.”

And just like that, I forgot how to breathe. I stared at him, trying to decipher what exactly mattered to him in that moment. Me? The image of his company? Or the fact that his friend—my ex, was the reason I was even part of this mess?

The assistant returned with a few dresses and gently handed them over to me. I escaped into the changing room, grateful for the thin curtain between me and Cole.

The first dress was silk, deep burgundy, hugging all the wrong places. I stepped out reluctantly, arms folded. Cole’s eyes lifted from his phone. First he blinked, then he stared.

He didn’t say anything, he just let his gaze roam… slowly. Almost too slowly.

“Well?” I asked, clearing my throat.

He didn’t answer right away. He leaned back in his seat, fingertips pressed together like he was trying to solve an equation.

“It’s elegant,” he finally said. “But not quite… you.”

I frowned. “What is me, then?”

He stood, and walked toward me. I held still as he approached, stopping just close enough to make my breath come out shaky.

He lifted a hand…then paused, silently asking for permission. I didn’t know why, but I nodded.

With surprising gentleness, he tugged a lock of my hair behind my ear, his fingers brushing my jaw in the process. “You’re bold…quietly. You don’t want to be noticed, but you hate being overlooked.”

I swallowed. “You think you’ve figured me out?”

His lips curved. “I think I’m getting there.”

His eyes lingered for a second longer before he stepped back, just as the assistant returned with another set of dresses. I dashed back into the changing room before my legs betrayed me.

The next one I tried was simpler. A black velvet dress with off-shoulder sleeves and a thigh-high slit. It was dangerously classy.

When I stepped out, Cole’s eyes lifted again.

This time, he stood up. “That one.”

I stared at him. “Too simple?”

“No. It’s… devastating. In a good way.”

My throat tightened. I turned to check myself in the mirror just to break the eye contact.

“Shoes?” I asked, needing to move things along.

He walked over to a shelf and picked a pair of heels I would never dream of affording. I took them wordlessly.

By the time I was dressed again and the boutique staff were wrapping everything up, Cole had already settled the bill. Not a single word about it, not a single question.

We stepped out into the evening air, and I expected the tension to fade now that the boutique’s romantic lighting wasn’t amplifying every heartbeat, but it didn’t.

At the car, he opened the door for me. I slid in, careful not to show how shaken I was. When he got in beside me, the silence grew thick again—like there were too many words we weren’t saying.

Mr. Harrington?” I said after a while, eyes on the passing lights.

His gaze slid to me, slow and unwavering. “I’ve told you before,” he murmured, “when we’re alone… call me Cole.”

I froze.

It was such a small thing. Just a name. But the way he said it, with that low, intentional tone—it unraveled me.

“I didn’t think we were that alone,” I replied, trying to summon the sass that usually shielded me.

His lips curved slightly. “We’re getting there.”

My fingers tightened on the door handle. I didn’t respond, because I didn’t trust myself to.

“Cole?” I uttered softly.

“Hm?”

“Why are you doing all this?”

There was a beat of quiet before he answered.

“Because you’re more than an assistant, Kate.”

My heart clenched. I turned my head slowly. But his face was already turned toward the window, as if he hadn’t just said something that shook me.

I didn’t know what scared me more—the way he looked at me, or the way I almost looked back.

As the car rolled to a smooth stop in front of my apartment, I reached for the door handle, desperate to escape the tension in the car.