Page 7 of Unbreakable Bonds (The Boston Romance #2)

ALISHA

A smile of utter contentment awakens inside me when I close the door behind the movers.

The moment Cole agreed with me living here, I immediately called my landlord after leaving his place.

She understood and wished me luck. At a crazy rate, I boxed my possessions.

The girls came by to help, but since I'm hardly sleeping, I used the nights to pack my belongings.

Living in this new accommodation with twenty-four-hour security and knowing Cole is nearby relaxes my overstrained brain.

I cruise to the plush, oversized lavender loveseat that I've placed by the window.

After removing my heels, I curl up, kicking my feet up, and let my body sink into the soft cushions.

This is heaven. The loveseat is the perfect blend of whimsical and comfortable—just like me.

Surrounding it are coordinating accent chairs in shades of violet, pink, and blue, creating a cozy conversation nook.

Across the room, a large bookshelf houses an eclectic mix of novels, framed art, and quirky knickknacks that reflect my vibrant personality.

In this apartment building, the residents have a unique key for the elevator, and outsiders need permission to come here. So now I can let go of the fear of unannounced or unwanted people dropping by. I close my eyes and enjoy the quietness until a hard knock invades my relaxed state. Who—

"Alisha?"

I rise and make my way to the front door as I recognize the familiar voice. I open, and Samantha greets me with a full smile. "Great, you're here. Can I come in? Please?"

I open the door further, and she enters, her gaze sweeping the room with open admiration.

"Oh, your place is amazing!" she shrieks. "Colorful and fun. I love it." She wanders around, halting at the wall covered with pictures.

"Wow, are these your friends?" she asks in awe, pointing to a photo of Bella, Amanda, Emma, and me at Emma's wedding.

"Yeah, they're my besties."

"I miss my best friend, Rachel," she whispers, her smile faltering.

My heart clenches at the longing in her voice. She stares at her shoes as she stands on my favorite handmade rainbow-colored rug, the soft pastel tints brightening the space. Samantha sits on the lavender loveseat, running her fingers over the plush velvet.

"You're a colorful person," she giggles, taking in the assortment of vibrant throw pillows.

"Colors are the smiles of nature, and they speak louder than words," I say with a shrug, settling beside her.

"I love it. Cole's penthouse is clean, and everything is black, grey, white, or brown. He could use other colors in his place. It's like we're living in a hotel. He orders dinner from the restaurant downstairs. I might sound ungrateful, but I'm not used to it. My mom and I always cooked together."

The corners of her mouth drop. "How can I tell him that? I don't want to hurt his feelings." She lets out a huff, and I know there's more she wants to share.

"Okay, missy, spill it. What else is bothering you?"

She places her palm against her forehead. "Cole's going full parental on me. Yesterday he started nagging over my clothing on the floor and the towels in the bathroom. This morning he lectured me over leaving my breakfast plate on the counter instead of placing it in the dishwasher."

I hide a chuckle that wants to come out. "Cole is your father, Samantha. It's part of his job."

She lifts her shoulders. "I know, but... I..."

Her phone rings, and the Jaws theme ringtone flows through the air. She peeks at the device, and I walk towards her. "Who is that?"

"Who do you think? I'm not answering." She sighs and shows me the screen.

I read the display— the big guy . I bite my lips, withholding another chuckle. When it stops ringing, I gaze at Samantha. "Why is he calling you?"

Her mouth twists, and she avoids eye contact. "Samantha… I say warmly."

She lets herself fall back onto the couch and places her hands in front of her face. "He's checking up on me."

"Let me guess. You left without telling him where you were going. Am I right?"

She shrugs.

"Samantha." My tone is stricter this time.

The Jaws ringtone starts again, but when Samantha doesn't move, I bend forward, grab her mobile, and press the button.

"Samantha, where are you?" His deep voice reverberates through my body.

"Cole. You can relax. She's with me."

He ends the call, and I lower the phone.

Guess he's satisfied with that answer. I glance over at the teenager, who's now standing by the window.

My eyes wander over her. She's tall for her age, her braided, dark blonde hair framing her flawless skin.

"Do you want a glass of iced tea?" I ask while walking to the kitchen.

"Yeah, sure." She comes strolling after me.

After grabbing two glasses and placing them on the island, I pour in the cool refreshment. We sit on the barstool and take a sip of our drink.

"Are you happy with this place?"

I grin. "Absofuckinglutely. This is the best apartment I've ever had."

She laughs aloud. "Oh, god, your personality differs from Cole's so much. I can't imagine him saying that."

My brain sends a picture of Cole saying it, and a laugh kicks in. Samantha joins my laughter out loud, but it abruptly stops when three robust knocks on the door resonate through the air. Samantha gives me her puppy dog eyes, and I can guess why. She knows who's knocking.

With smooth strides, I make my way to the front door and brace myself.

But when I open and my gaze lands on Cole, my breath hitches.

He's wearing a dark blue suit with a white button-down shirt.

A combo that enhances the intensity of his ridiculously cyan irises. I tilt my head back since I'm barefoot.

His down-turned mouth and straight posture say enough. He bursts through the door without an invitation. After closing the entrance, I place my hands on my hips while facing him.

"Oh, well, hello to you too, Bulldozer."

"Samantha!" he shouts. The sweet girl comes shuffling out of the kitchen. The joyful expression from a minute ago has disappeared from her face. He turns when he hears her footsteps behind him. "Why did you leave the house without telling me?"

Her lips twist. "I only wanted to check if Alisha had moved in. Didn't realize I had to tell you everything."

They stare at each other. Both have the same dead-serious expression, same stubborn tilt to their chins. It's like watching two wolves circling each other, waiting to see who'll break first.

Samantha drops her gaze, and as she moves past him, she mutters, "I'm going back to your place." Her eyes shift, and her lips curve into a sweet smile. "Thanks for the iced tea, Alisha."

I give her a nod, and after she closes the door behind her, I face Cole, whose eyes are slits.

Before I can speak, he opens his mouth and bellows, "Why didn't you call me to say she was here?

Is this your way of helping me? Portraying me as the awful guy while you act as the sweet princess?

If that is the case, I want my apartment back. "

His wrong accusations ignite my fiery side. I step towards him and push against his solid concrete chest, and it doesn't affect him one bit. Instead, his face gets that infuriating smug expression, and my temper rises like mercury in a heat wave.

"You pompous ass. How in the hell am I supposed to call you if I don't have your phone number?

Samantha arrived at my door three minutes before you called and barked.

Ever heard of normal communication? No wonder that girl is having difficulties living with you.

" I cock my brow up at him. "You're a grumpy control freak, Cole. "

He gives me a stern glare. "Are you done, firecracker?"

Firecracker? Oh, this man has the nerve. I spin a one-eighty and stamp to the front door, my heels clicking against the hardwood like angry exclamation points. I yank it open and point to the hallway. "Get out! Get out of my apartment."

Merely standing tall, he brushes his hand over his suit, lifting his head, eyes boring into mine. "You're kicking me out of my apartment?"

I narrow my eyes. "You agreed I could live here," I fume. "You want me to pay the rent? Fine. What's the total?"

He names the number with that smug expression of his, and my mind spins.

Oh my god, I can't afford it. My stomach churns thinking of leaving this place—this sanctuary I've just started to make my own.

My breathing wants to accelerate, but I fight to keep it in control.

I'm not showing him my weakness. Not in a million years.

If he wants to be a cocksure ass, I'm done.

I shut the door with a loud bang and trudge over to the kitchen, where I fish my mobile from the counter and dial a recently used number.

As I wait, I take a sip of my iced tea to ease my dry throat.

The moment a man answers, I ramble, "Hello, this is Alisha McQueen.

I need the movers from today to come back and—"

Before I can continue, a hand snatches my phone, and Cole's deep voice takes over the conversation. "Sorry for the inconvenience, but Miss McQueen made a mistake."

My blood rises to its boiling point when he hangs up. What the hell is his problem? He's standing behind me, and I sense such intense energy feeding my emotions that I can only act upon it. I face him and yank my phone out of his hand while moving backward.

"What the hell is your problem? A second ago, you proclaimed you want me out of here. So I'm making the call for that." My fingers go back to the screen.

"Lower the goddamn phone. You're staying."

My chin lifts at his words. Frustration crinkles his eyes. "I overreacted," he grunts.

"Overreacted? You waltz in here, accusing me, and..."

"I'm sorry! Okay?" he says while stepping towards me. His voice drops, vulnerability seeping through the cracks. "Put my number in your contact list. So that next time Samantha shows up at your door, you can let me know."

I stick my nose up in the air at his demanding tone and respond. "Nope. Not going to do that."

* * *

Cole

What? Oh, this woman is unbelievable. I can't think straight when she's near. My head is spinning from the whirlwind of emotions I've encountered today.

When I found out Samantha left without a trace, horror scenarios took over my imagination.

The only thing I kept thinking was, what if she walked away?

I'm aware she's having a hard time adjusting to the new situation.

But I am too. After two weeks, I know I suck at the parenting thing, which frustrates me because I'm trying my best. The moment I discovered Samantha went to Alisha's, it bothered me.

Samantha prefers Alisha's company above mine, and to an extent, I understand. She's a woman. But when I came to her door and heard them laughing, a nasty sting hit my heart. My daughter was laughing, and I wasn't the one creating it. With me, she's miserable.

My mind comes back, and I stare at Alisha, who is waiting for my response. God, her character is as colorful and dynamic as the color palette of her interior, and her emotions are compatible with a confetti cannon. If someone or something pushes her buttons too far, she pops.

From the moment we met, there has been this intense energy between us.

Everything she does and says affects me, and it drives me nuts!

I've always been a relaxed and collected person.

But now... Now, her full red lips are mocking me, and I can't stop staring.

They look inviting; I bet they taste delicious.

God, fuck, don't go there. I open my jacket, pull out one of my business cards, and plant it on the kitchen island. "This is my number. Put it in your phone." I turn and move away from her and her taunting mouth.

I open the front door and stumble back when Nick and Emma stand on the other side. Their faces show the same surprised reaction as mine.

"Cole? What are you doing here?"

"He's leaving," Alisha says as she stops next to me and focuses her attention on our friends. "How did you two get up here? I thought—"

"Don't worry," I say at the sound of her concerned voice. "Nick has free access. I've given Daniel, the concierge, that instruction."

Nick coughs as he picks up the tension between us. Emma steps forward and holds up a square box. "I brought your present," she exclaims with a careful smile to her blond friend.

Alisha lets out a huff, takes the box, and pushes it into my hands.

"Here, this is for you and Samantha." Then she grabs one of Emma's hands and pulls her into the apartment.

"Nick, we're swapping. You take him with you and leave.

I'm claiming a chat with my best friend.

I'm in desperate need to vent my emotions. "

Nick's eyes fly from Emma to me and Alisha.

"Enjoy the present in the box, Grumpy. Since I'm not hungry, Nick can have my piece."

Stupefied, I walk out, and the door closes with a bang. Nick pats me on the back. "Let's go. I want to hear what caused that reaction."

Once in the elevator, my friend gives me a curious glance.

"I thought by the present you're holding, things were better between you two.

Emma has outdone herself. They're incredible.

" Curious by his words, I open the lid. My eyes widen as I see the content.

"What are they?" I ask, gazing in awe at three amazing-looking pastries.

"They're called tompouce. They're a Dutch treat. Easy explanation. There are two layers of puff pastry filled with pastry cream, and the top layer has sweet icing."

"Shit," I murmur when I view the text written on it.

One says, Welcome to Boston, Samantha . And when I focus on the other one, heat rushes to my face as I read. Thank you, Cole .

Oh, damn, I screwed up.