Fake Empire(18)

“Yes, I am. Jacques Deux has a waiting list for years. I called in ten favors to get this meeting with him.”

“It’s our wedding night. People will talk.”

“I don’t care. Do you normally clear your schedule for the night after a merger closes?”

I exhale instead of saying something I’ll regret. “What is your meeting about?”

Based on the way Scarlett sighs—like the question is a major inconvenience—she was hoping I wouldn’t ask it. “Why?” she challenges.

I say nothing, just stare.

She sighs again. “I’m starting a clothing line. Jacques Deux has worked with every prominent designer in the last decade. His input, his ideas, they’ll make a big difference in the success of the brand.”

“This is why you changed the prenup,” I realize.

The earning potential for Haute is nothing compared to a clothing brand. Especially one created by Scarlett soon-to-be Kensington. Public interest in the both of us has skyrocketed since our engagement was announced. We’re a fairytale, minus the ugly stepsisters or the poor beginnings.

“If I hadn’t, this could be a conversation. But I did, and you signed, so it’s not. If I need to go to Paris for a meeting, I’ll go to Paris.”

“It’s only the timing I have issue with,” I tell her, quietly. I didn’t have expectations for our wedding night, but I definitely had hopes. Fantasies that required her to be in New York City, not the capital of France.

Her brow wrinkles for a minute before it smooths. “I can’t change the timing, Crew.”

“Fine.” I don’t even know why I’m bothering to argue.

“Fine,” she echoes. Glances away from me, looks back, and sighs. “I wrote my cell number down in there too. In case you have questions about the building.”

I could lie, but I don’t. “I have your number, Scarlett.”

She raises one eyebrow. “I didn’t give it to you.”

“I know. I got it a while ago. I thought about reaching out to you a few times. Thought it might…” I shake my head. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. Go wherever you want, Scarlett.”

“I will.”

She’s getting what she wants, yet she still sounds pissed. Rather than push, I nod toward the door. “That all?”

Her chin jerks up. “Yes. That’s all.” She spins and heads toward the glass doors that lead to the street.

“Great,” I mutter sarcastically as I follow. Based on the way her shoulders stiffen, she heard me.

Asher, Jeremy, and Oliver are all waiting out on the sidewalk.

“Leaving so soon, Scarlett?” Asher teases.

“I don’t usually loiter around apartment buildings,” she replies. “Where are you gentlemen headed to?”

“Crew’s bachelor party,” Asher replies. He spins his Best Man baseball cap around so she can see the front. “I know you lovebirds decided to limit the crowds up front, but I couldn’t resist.”

“Cute,” Scarlett comments.

I almost smile.

“You should come,” Asher suggests.

Scarlett clears her throat. “What?”

“Crew is way more fun to be around when you’re here.”

I shoot Asher a sharp glare for that comment. This isn’t a wide-eyed socialite he’s baiting. In two days, the woman beside me will be my wife. There’s a line, and he’s crossing it.

“Let’s go, Asher.”

He shrugs. “Sure. This will be a challenge for us anyway. Let alone a woman.”

I close my eyes and mentally call Asher every name I can think of. My best man just ensured my fiancée will be at my bachelor party.





The rock gym is crowded when we arrive. I’m surprised; the number of people here demonstrates a higher interest in the activity than I expected it to have.

This is exactly not what I thought my bachelor party might be like: climbing fake cliffs with my fiancée in tow.

Scarlett heads for the small store attached to the gym, probably to swap out the six-inch stilettos she’s wearing for shoes with a flat bottom. She says nothing to me before she leaves, keeping the void of silence that’s hovered between us intact. It stretched the whole drive here, interrupted by polite small talk, mostly between her and Jeremy. I think she’s lying about remembering him from the class they supposedly shared and I hope that means one of my closest friends doesn’t know more about my fiancée than I do.

“I can’t believe you,” I tell Asher, as he pulls out a pair of what are apparently rock-climbing shoes I’m sure he bought just for this occasion. “I told you I didn’t want to do anything. Then you plan this and invite her?”

Asher smirks as he tugs off his sneakers and yanks on the shoes that look like rubber socks. “One, this will be fun. I came with Charles Goldsmith last month and it was a blast. Two, you’re welcome. Your blushing bride will barely look at you, and it’s obviously bothering the shit out of you. You like her.”

I scoff. “What are you, ten? I don’t like her; I’m stuck with her. My father would permanently disown me if this marriage doesn’t happen. Doesn’t last. It has nothing to do with Scarlett. Although…” I glance at the display of climbing shoes visible through the glass wall separating the store from the gym itself, where Scarlett is talking to a sales associate. “It doesn’t seem like it would kill her to act like it’s less of an inconvenience.”