The Return of the Billionaire Heiress and Her Cold CEO

"I don't get jealous," Cole said. "I get even."

Kylie didn't flinch.

She stood on the rooftop terrace, the city glowing beneath her like temptation waiting to be touched. Wind tangled in her hair. Champagne glass in hand. Diamond earrings catching the moonlight.

"And what exactly are you planning to get even for?" she asked without turning.

Cole's voice came from behind her. Calm. Lethal. "For the way you looked at him."

Her fingers curled slightly around the stem of the glass.

So he'd noticed.

Of course he had.

He noticed everything.

It started earlier that evening.

They were at a Pioneer gala. Black tie. Gold chandeliers. A hundred million dollars' worth of ego in one ballroom.

Kylie wore a floor-length black satin gown with a plunging neckline and backless curve. The press called her "flawless."

Cole hadn't said a word.

Not about the dress. Not about her entrance.

Not even when she stopped every conversation in the room just by walking in.

But when she laughed once at something Ethan Sterling said, his jaw tightened.

Ethan. Finance shark. Stanford educated. Tall. Charming. Dangerous only to those who underestimated his smile.

Cole hated him.

And Kylie…?

Kylie knew how to play that.

"You were trying to provoke me," Cole said now, behind her on the terrace.

She turned, slowly. "Was it that easy?"

He stepped forward. The space between them tightened.

"I don't like games," he said.

"You married the wrong woman, then."

"You think I didn't know that?"

Her breath hitched.

Not because it hurt.

But because it didn't.

Not anymore.

Back inside, the ballroom was alive with whispers. Victoria Long stood near the bar, clutching a champagne flute like a sword, watching them with dagger eyes.

Kylie watched her back.

Earlier, she had heard Victoria whisper to one of the board members.

"Women like her don't last. They dress like queens and crack like glass."

Kylie had smiled at the time.

Now, she felt like throwing the glass over the railing.

Instead, she turned back to Cole.

His eyes didn't leave her face.

"You're angry," she said.

"I'm calculating," he corrected. "There's a difference."

"Of course," she said. "One's dangerous. The other is deadly."

For a long moment, neither moved.

Then, softly, he said, "What do you want from me, Kylie?"

She blinked.

That wasn't the question she expected.

"I want what you promised," she said.

"And what was that again?"

"Power," she whispered. "And immunity."

Cole stepped closer.

Close enough for the wind to carry his scent smoke, citrus, and something colder.

"Then stop playing with knives," he said.

"They're all I've ever known."

Later, back inside, Ethan found her near the bar.

"Still married to the stone statue?" he teased.

Kylie smiled. "He's more than a statue."

"Right," Ethan said, eyes glinting. "He breathes. Occasionally."

She sipped her drink. "You don't like him."

"No one does," he said. "But they fear him. That's why he wins."

"And what about me?" she asked.

Ethan leaned in slightly. "You're different. You don't scare people. You make them want to be near you."

"Is that a compliment or a warning?"

"Both."

Cole arrived mid conversation. Silent and sudden.

Ethan straightened. "Cole."

"Sterling."

Neither smiled.

Kylie excused herself before the air turned to knives.

In the car on the way home, they didn't speak.

Not until Cole said, quietly, "He was flirting with you."

She turned her head. "So?"

"You didn't stop him."

"I didn't encourage him."

Cole's fingers tightened on the steering wheel.

"You're my wife."

"On paper."

"That paper protects you."

"I don't need protection."

He pulled over suddenly. Fast. Brutal. Tires screeched against asphalt.

They were on a quiet street. Empty. Dark. Safe enough to break.

He turned to her.

"I can't do this," he said.

Kylie froze. "Do what?"

"This... game. This tension. This back and forth."

She looked at him, eyes hard.

"I didn't ask you to feel anything, Cole."

"I don't," he snapped.

"Then what's the problem?"

He didn't answer.

Because there was no answer.

Only the thick, unspoken truth:

They wanted each other.

And neither of them trusted it.

Back at the penthouse, Kylie changed into silk sleep shorts and a camisole.

Brushed her hair. Removed her earrings.

Stared at herself in the mirror and asked a question she hadn't dared before:

What if this was more than revenge now?

What if it was… personal?

Down the hall, Cole was still fully dressed.

Tie loosened. Drink in hand. Sleeves rolled up.

He looked like a man about to make a mistake.

And he was.

Because when Kylie walked into the room without knocking, he didn't stop her.

When she walked straight up to him, he didn't move.

And when she said, "If we're going to keep doing this, you need to tell me the truth," he didn't argue.

He looked at her like he was seeing a reflection of himself. Broken. Sharp. Hungry.

"What truth?" he asked.

She took a breath.

"The real reason you married me."

He stared at her for too long.

Then he said "Because I needed a buffer."

"You have a team of lawyers for that."

"Because the board was circling."

"There are other women who'd marry you without asking questions."

"You're not like other women."

Kylie's throat tightened.

"That's not an answer."

Cole took a step closer.

"I married you because I saw fire in your eyes."

She blinked. "What?"

"That night. At the benefit. You stood in front of a senator and told him to go to hell. Politely."

"I remember."

"I watched you that whole night," he said. "You weren't afraid of anyone."

"And you thought, 'she'd make a great fake wife'?"

"I thought, 'she's the only one I can't control.'"

Kylie exhaled. "And you like control."

"I live by it."

"Then why choose chaos?"

Cole stared at her.

"No one can betray a lie," he said quietly.

Kylie's stomach twisted.

"You married me because it couldn't hurt."

He didn't deny it.

And suddenly, her chest ached.

Because she understood him too well.

They didn't kiss.

They didn't touch.

But when she turned to leave, his voice stopped her.

"Victoria's not just here for PR," he said.

Kylie paused.

"She's investigating the messages," he added. "The ones about you."

Her blood went cold.

"You knew?"

"I saw the photo," he said. "I recognized you."

Her heart pounded. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because I wanted to see what you'd do."

"And now?"

Cole's voice was low. "Now I'm waiting."

"For what?"

"For you to tell me the truth."

Back in her room, she didn't sleep.

She sat at the window, watching the city, asking herself the same question again.

Was Cole Walter becoming her weakness?

Or worse…

Was she becoming his?