Crew straightens with a self-satisfied smirk that makes me pray a punch will mess up his perfect bone structure. If not for me, on behalf of average-looking men everywhere. That sort of symmetry is an unfair standard to be held to. I thought Evan was attractive卽ntil I saw him next to the table抯 uninvited guest.
Whatever Crew said to Evan leaves him pale. 揈njoy your night, ladies.?Crew winks and walks away, with the blonde trailing right behind him.
揘ice talking to you.?Evan grabs his drink and disappears.
揥ell卼hat was interesting,?Sophie muses. Nadia looks like she was just spun around in circles: wide-eyed and off-kilter. Exactly how I抎 appear梚f I weren抰 excellent at schooling my emotions.
I shouldn抰 look over my shoulder, but I do. Crew is standing right next to the glass doors that lead out onto the street. The blonde is nowhere in sight; he either ditched her or she抯 waiting outside. Crew doesn抰 move or react when he sees me staring at him. He holds my stare for a few seconds before turning and disappearing out into the night. It抯 unnerving梑ecause it抯 exactly what I would do.
We抮e similar, me and Crew Kensington.
Guarded.
Proud.
Stubborn.
Cynical.
We抳e grown up with the same privilege and expectations. We know what抯 expected. What it takes to thrive in this world, not just survive.
That抯 the reason I agreed to marry him.
And the reason I shouldn抰。
CHAPTER TWO
CREW
People scatter as I step off the elevator on Monday morning. Kensington Consolidated employs a workforce upwards of five hundred, not to mention the many companies we serve as the parent entity of. Less than fifty employees have offices on the executive floor. Men and women twice my age scurry away like skittish mice as I stride down the carpeted hall toward the main conference room. One perk of having your name displayed on the side of the skyscraper. It commands respect, even when you haven抰 earned it.
My father and brother are sitting at the centered table when I enter the conference room. The three of us start every Monday with a 揷hat.?That抯 what my father likes to call them, at least. Lectures would be a more fitting descriptor. He uses them as an intimidation tactic toward everyone else with an office on this floor. Forcing them to be in on time and fueling speculation about what we抮e talking about. Promotions. Acquisitions. Firings.
揧ou抮e late,?my father announces as I take a seat across from him. I resist the urge to direct his attention to the clock above the projector screen used for presentations.
It抯 ten seconds past eight a.m.
Instead, I say, 揝orry. Hope you two had some golf stories to swap.?
My father抯 eyes narrow, trying to decide if I抦 being glib or genuine. The fact he can抰 tell is a source of pride.
He and Oliver love flying investors and potential partners around to different courses, hashing out business over eighteen holes. Those outings often involve polo shirts and bets. I prefer to do business in a stiff suit inside a boardroom.
揟he paperwork is all set??he questions, letting the jab slide.
揧es,?I answer. 揑 went to Richard抯 office on Sunday.?Just how I wanted to spend my one day off in two weeks, signing a two-hundred-page document explicitly laying out how each asset will be distributed in the event my upcoming union ends in a divorce.
My father hums, which is the closest to a sound of approval he gets. 揟he Ellsworths will be over for dinner on Friday night. Make sure you have a ring by then.?
揑 want Mom抯。？
Not much gets to my father anymore. A mention of the woman he buried two decades ago seems to be the one thing that always does. The glimmer of surprise in his eyes disappears quickly. 揑t抯 in the safe.?
I nod.
揅an we move on from the marriage talk??Oliver requests. The snide way he says marriage answers any questions about how he抯 handling the upcoming addition to the family.
Two years older than me, he should be the one embarking on the archaic tradition of an arranged marriage. Probably to Scarlett Ellsworth, a prospect that didn抰 bother me at all before I exchanged more than a few dozen words with her. Her sharp tongue would be lost on my stalworth brother. Before, our engagement was a hypothetical. A probable outcome, but far from certain. That抯 changed, and the tick in Oliver抯 jaw says it bothers him.
Our father decided I was going to be the one who married Scarlett years ago, and Oliver and I learned far earlier than that not to question his decisions. What Arthur Kensington says, goes.
The muscle above my father抯 right eye twitches, a surefire sign he抯 displeased. 揟his marriage is crucial for the future of this family, Oliver. You know that.?
No matter how old you get, I don抰 think the perverse satisfaction of a sibling getting scolded for a slight against you ever fades. It hasn抰 after twenty-five years, at least.