Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 96802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
“They’ll believe whatever the fuck we tell them to believe. You a have bachelor’s in economics from Harvard. You stayed to get an MBA and worked for the company for a couple years. We’ll say you left to pursue your own endeavors, to get your own experience, and are ready to come home.”
I narrowed my eyes. “All of that is bullshit.”
She sighed. “Fine. Then give me something better. Give me something that spells golden boy. That says they don’t need to ask you about your ex-girlfriend who is going to be on trial for grand larceny!”
“I don’t know,” I grunted.
“I’ll take anything. If this were Hollywood, I could invent things that made you look good. But the Upper East Side is different than Hollywood. No one would believe a charity benefit or a trip to a third world country. We can’t spin it so that this is somehow for a role. We can’t give your mother an illness because we’re working in her favor. Court, it has to be something big.”
There was something. But it wasn’t big enough. And… I didn’t want anyone to know anyway. It belonged to me. In a way that little else did.
I set my jaw. But fuck, I didn’t want to work for the company. I could give her this thing I’d held back. Put the last piece of myself on display for the media. I just didn’t want to. It would be worse than going back to Kensington Corp. and dicking around with investments for a few months.
“There’s nothing,” I lied.
She frowned back at me. As if she could see my lie this time.
“I think this could work. If you’re willing,” she finally said.
“Fine,” I said on a sigh. Serving up my life on a silver platter. “I’ll do it.”
12
English
I knew that Court didn’t want to go back to work for Kensington Corporation. But once he was all in, he was all in.
We’d met with his mother, who had been ecstatic about the decision. She’d wanted one of her boys to take over the company ever since their father died seven years prior. But neither of them had had any interest. Leslie saw this as the first step toward that dream.
She’d even spoken to the board for us and secured him a position. I didn’t even really know what they did precisely. Something to do with investments and banking. They made a lot of money. That was for sure.
Court would have a corner office on the top floor. Apparently, it had been vacant for years, as it was reserved for a Kensington. I wondered how long it would have stayed open before they decided against that. But I was glad for it now. It would look better to do the announcement tomorrow out of his office, which I’d hired an interior designer to whip into shape.
“What do you think?” I asked Court as we walked around the space with the designer.
Court shrugged. “As long as I have an enormous desk and a full library, then I’ll be happy.”
The interior designer took notes. “I wasn’t sure about the library, but I’ll have my people in right away to begin.”
“It will all be ready by tomorrow?” I asked.
She nodded. “Definitely. I’ll have the entire staff on site, working all night to get this set up. Anything else?”
I checked my watch. “No. We’re running late. Come on, Court. We need to get to your next appointment.”
He stood in the center of the room, gazing out the enormous glass windows to the city streets below. He was in a black suit and blue tie that matched his eyes. His demeanor seemed to shift in the space. It was as if I was seeing the man who had bent me over the side of the couch and held my hair back so I’d arch into him. The commanding man who could run this business if he chose and not the one we were pretending could.
“This will do,” he finally said.
Then, he turned to face me. Strong, assertive, powerful. This was Court Kensington.
He smiled at me. My knees went weak. All my own bluster and strength fled in the wake of that smile.
“Shall we, English?”
I nodded.
But he led the way out.
* * *
Evelyn Rothschild obliged us with a second interview for her society magazine. I was pretty sure that she would do anything to get at Court again. Our first interview had been a tour of Kensington Cottage in the Hamptons. A chaste affair where I’d dressed him like a prep-school knockout. All class and charm. The video had gone viral, plastering his pretty face all over the internet.
Evelyn had wanted to see more of him. I’d cashed in that favor.
“Remember, keep it casual. Stick to the prepared questions,” I told her. “Your readers will eat him up.”
“I know how to do my job,” she said with that Cheshire cat smile that said I didn’t really want to get in bed with her.