Fake Empire(12)

Crew shakes his head as he opens a small box and holds it out to me. “Here.”

I stick my hand in and pull out a circular disk just smaller than my palm. I sniff. “What is it?”

“Chocolate-covered biscuit. I get them every time I’m at the chalet in the Alps.” Crew grabs another one out of the box and takes a big bite. Mine is more hesitant. My teeth slowly sink through the thin layer of dark chocolate and into the biscuit. Buttery, slightly bitter deliciousness explodes in my mouth.

“It’s good,” I decide. “Really good.”

“Yeah. I noticed you were…swallowing.”

I hold his gaze, but I want to look away. There’s too much intensity hovering there for a tiny room. It wraps around me and threatens to swallow—pun intended—me whole. “Do you usually spend a lot of time in the pantry when you’re visiting your father?”

“Depends.”

“On?”

“How long I’m stuck here total.”

“Not many happy memories?” I keep my tone light, but I’m really asking. I haven’t seen Crew interact with his father and brother much. At parties, they’re usually schmoozing separately. Each socializing in their own way. Tonight, they’ve interacted more like colleagues than a close family.

“Plenty, in this pantry.”

I wrinkle my nose. “How charming.”

Crew’s mouth curl appears but quickly fades. “I meant with my mom. She loved baking.” The sudden stoicism dares me to ask more. Warns me not to.

“You never answered me about Candace.”

I expect him to accuse me of being jealous, but he doesn’t. “Why do you care?”

I shrug. “You know how people are. If there are rumors about you and your stepmother floating around at the Waldorfs’ holiday party this year—the way they were last year—it would be nice to know how horrified of a wife I should act.” I crunch another biscuit.

“It’s probably a better question for Oliver.”

“Really?” I don’t hide my surprise. The elder Kensington seems more the type not to step a toe out of line.

Crew reads it on my face. “I don’t know for certain. Just that he’s been over here while Dad is out of town.”

“Does that surprise you?”

“Yes and no.” Crew sighs. “He’s careful not to show it, but this…” He gestures between me and him. “It should be him. Getting married first, becoming CEO, all of it.”

My face stays carefully neutral as I reply. “Do you think he’ll do anything? Sow opposition in the board?”

“No, I don’t think so. Oliver is rational—maybe too rational. He sees the big picture. I don’t think he wants to get married. I’m not even sure if he wants to inherit CEO. It’s the principle of it…it all should have been his.”

Unfamiliar guilt churns my stomach. At sixteen, I didn’t think this all the way through. I didn’t think about the other people who would be affected by my impulsive demand—by my exerting the little authority I had. Expending the small amount of power I’d gained.

“You want it, don’t you?” I ask.

He tilts his head to look at me better. I’ve heard the gossip about Crew’s bossiness. His looks. His assurance. People don’t talk much about his intelligence. The shrewdness staring at me now suddenly seems like his most dominant feature. It sees me, sees through me. Past the protections that keep everyone else out.

Certain choices are one luxury our lives don’t afford. I realize he might think I’m asking about a different decision than I am.

“CEO?” I clarify.

He doesn’t have a choice when it comes to me. Not anymore. The announcements have been made. The planning is already underway. It would be a scandal of shocking magnitude for either of us to back out of this marriage now—a blow to both of our families’ reputations. It shouldn’t matter—shouldn’t bother me—that he doesn’t have other options anymore.

“I want it,” he confirms.

The loud crunch of another bite punctuates the statement. “Great.” My voice is full of false cheer and real sarcasm. “We should go back. They’ll wonder where we are.”

“They’ll assume it involved milking.”

I shoot his charming smile a disgusted look in return.

“Actually, we can’t go back yet.”

“What do you mean, we can’t go back yet?”

“I need to give you something.”

“Oh.” I realize what he’s talking about, then glance at the shelves lined with colorful cans and boxes. “In here?”

“I don’t think the string quartet or the champagne tower will fit.”

Dammit. I thought minimizing any pageantry was one way Crew and I are on the same page. If he has some elaborate proposal speech planned, I’ll probably start laughing. Making it seem like this is something that it is not is of no interest to me, especially when we’re alone.

Whatever expression I’m wearing makes his crease with what looks a lot like amusement.

“Yeah, I thought so.”

“Thought what?”

“Come on.” Crew walks out of the pantry. We retrace our steps back to the same hall overlooking the pool and yard.