Fake Empire(34)

Scarlett makes the decision for me. As soon as we’re inside, she snags a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and heads for a large group of giggling women. They accept her into the circle with ease, a few glancing back at me.

It shouldn’t surprise me. This is how we’ve acted at every other event we’ve both attended in the past. I doubt Scarlett considers any of the women she’s now chatting with to be friends, but you wouldn’t know it based on the way she’s laughing and nodding along to something one of them is saying.

I order a bourbon and start to make the rounds, beginning with the Rutherfords, who are hosting tonight. Donald Rutherford is the chair of the board at New York General Hospital. His wife, Jennifer, is an heiress involved with half a dozen charities around the city. I compliment them on the evening and hand Jennifer a check for the fundraiser before moving on and getting sucked into a conversation about upcoming events in the Hamptons.

My summers are spent in Manhattan. If I need an escape, I travel upstate or to Europe. Our Hamptons house is the only one of my family’s many properties that contains clear memories of my mother. I spend as little time as possible there. Being there with Candace and the current state of my relationship with my father and brother would be like spilling water on writing. I want to preserve my memories, not ruin them.

When Daniel Waldorf mentions the Ellsworth Fourth of July party next weekend, I realize I might not have much of a choice. Scarlett hasn’t brought it up to me, but there’s no way her parents won’t expect her—won’t expect us—to attend.

Daniel is describing his new sailboat to me when Hannah Garner sidles over to us. “Nice seeing you, Crew.”

Daniel smiles and bails, leaving me alone with Hannah.

She doesn’t spare Daniel a glance, assessing me with clear blue eyes. Hannah is probably the closest I came to willingly entering into a committed relationship. Her family is wealthy and well-connected—her father founded a sports agency that represents a whole host of athletes set to become future Hall of Famers. He also owns the Los Angeles Titans. Last fall, Hannah and I attended a game together. She deep-throated me during halftime. That’s how our involvement has always been, picking up when it was convenient and nonexistent when it wasn’t.

“Hello, Crew.” Her long, blonde hair is curled tonight. One piece dips between the valley of her breasts, pulling my attention to her cleavage. She smirks, tracking my gaze.

“Hannah,” I reply. “I didn’t realize you were in town.”

“I convinced Dad to let me handle some business. There’s a guy on the Mets he wants to sign.” She pauses. “I would have called…but you got married.”

There’s no mistaking the bite in the word, but I don’t owe her an explanation. “Were you at the wedding?” I’m guessing the Garners were invited.

Her whole expression tightens. “Couldn’t make it.”

“That’s a shame.”

“You never said a word.”

I sip some bourbon. “Would it have mattered, Hannah?”

“Scarlett Ellsworth? Really, Crew?”

“Kensington,” I correct. Hannah’s brow furrows. “Her name is Scarlett Kensington now.”

At that, she scoffs. “Changing her last name doesn’t change the fact she’s uppity and entitled, with the emotional capacity of an iceberg. You could have done better.”

The rush of anger takes me off-guard. Our sexual escapades aside, I consider Hannah a friend. I rode here next to evidence that Scarlett is cold and closed-off. But iceberg or not, she’s still my wife. I tighten my grip on the glass, allowing plenty of ire to infiltrate my voice. “Insult my wife again, and this will be our last conversation, Hannah.”

“Come on, Crew. No one expects you to be loyal to her. You married her for her money.”

Guests start filing inside the banquet room where dinner will be served. “Try me,” I tell her, then start to walk away.

Her hand grabs mine before I make it more than a couple of steps. “I’m here through Wednesday. Staying in my usual suite at The Carlyle.”

I shake her hand off and keep walking.

Scarlett is already seated at our assigned table when I enter the large hall. I say nothing as I take the chair beside her. Polite chatter echoes around us.

Her finger traces the rim of a champagne glass, filling some of the silence with a subtle hum. She sighs, then downs the contents with one final gulp.

“Thirsty?”

“Bored.”

“I’m finding the evening highly entertaining,” I reply, just to needle her.

“I’m sure you are,” she mutters, looking away at the stage.

She must have noticed me talking to Hannah. With any other woman, I’d think she was jealous. Since it’s Scarlett, I’m guessing she’s miffed I’m enjoying myself.

Jennifer Rutherford—the hostess tonight—appears on stage. Everyone still standing hurries to their seats as the crowd quiets. I zone out as she starts speaking, thanking everyone for coming tonight and sharing plans for the renovations they’re fundraising for tonight. It’s not until I hear my name mentioned that I zone back in on the conversation.

“…and Crew Kensington, whose generous contributions ensured we’ve already met tonight’s goal.”