Fake Empire(51)

“Tagging in what?”

“I’m posting the photo of us.”

I’m not sure what to say to that. Why? is the only response I can think of. Then I come up with a worse one. “Does Hannah Garner follow you?”

“I don’t know; I’ve never checked. Why?”

When I muster the courage to meet his gaze, his eyes are dancing with mirth he’s not even attempting to hide. “You know why,” I mutter.

He grins. “Want me to check? Block her?”

“No.” I start walking toward the exit.

It takes us half the time to walk down the stairs that it did to climb up. Once we’re back on solid ground, Crew leaves for the restroom. As soon as he’s out of sight, I open the Instagram app on my phone and search for his name. Despite the fact he’s only posted a handful of photos, he has millions of followers. The photos are mostly of scenery: Copenhagen and London and New York City. A couple feature the two guys from his bachelor party, Asher and Jeremy. One was taken in Boston; I recognize the bar from college.

And then there’s the photo of us he just posted. I bite my bottom lip when I see what he wrote as the caption. Exploring Paris with the most beautiful woman in the world. She outshines all the sights.

I scroll down through some of the comments. A good number of them are suggestive ones involving Crew. Those don’t surprise me. The ones that do are the ones that read gorgeous couple and you guys look so happy and marriage goals. I tap back on the photo, trying to scrutinize the image the way a total stranger would.

We do look happy. We’re both smiling. I know mine wasn’t forced, and Crew’s doesn’t look like it was either. His arms are wrapped around my middle and his chin is resting on the top of my head. Thriving greenery and stone monuments are obvious in the background behind us. I search his followers and learn Hannah is one of them. A petty part of me is pleased.

“Ready to go?”

The sound of his voice startles me. “Yep.” I slip my phone back into my bag.

“You’re free until dinner?” Crew confirms as we cross the lawn and head back toward the street.

“Uh-huh.”

“Are you dying to go back to the hotel and do work?”

For once, I’m not. I try not to read into the realization. “Not if you make me a better offer.”

Crew shoots me a shocked look that I’m not certain is entirely exaggerated. “Something can trump work for you?”

“Shut up.” I shove his shoulder. “I’m not that bad.”

“You’re worse. But I respect it. Anyone who says you’ve had everything handed to you…they’re wrong, Scarlett.”

“You were handed to me.” I point out.

He stops and pulls me to the side of the walkway so quickly I crash into his chest again.

I step back like he scalded me.

Crew grins, but it disappears quickly. “Just to be clear, there are times I disagree with my dad. I argue with him. I don’t listen to him. Those moments don’t make it into the press. They aren’t on display in public. I get why you think I’m Arthur Junior. But I’m not, Scarlett. When I step up as CEO, I’ll make changes to the company. I could have married Hannah, or some other woman. I could have married anyone. I married you, Scarlett. That means something, even if you want to pretend that it doesn’t.”

“Okay.” Honestly, I no longer view Crew as an extension of his father. I only wish I did. It would make a lot of things easier.

Crew sighs like my answer is a disappointment. “Okay.”

I clear my throat. “Uh, can you send me the photo?”

“What?”

“The photo of us. Can you send it to me?”

Surprise flashes across his face. “Yeah. Sure.”

We start walking again. My phone vibrates with a message as we reach the sidewalk. Crew heads for the line of taxis while I wait. I check my phone and see the photo came through from him. It’s the first message he’s ever sent me.

I text the photo to my mom. It’s the first photo in our chain of messages, mostly ones she sent me related to the wedding that I never responded to.

I tuck my phone away and walk over to where Crew is standing.

“He needs to know where we’re going,” he says, nodding toward the driver.

“Versailles?” I suggest. I’ve been before, but it’s been years.

Crew’s smile is blinding. “That sounds a lot like sight-seeing.”

“I heard you love sight-seeing.”

He smiles. “Is it a better offer?”

I nod. “Let’s go.”





Jacques is already seated at the table when we enter the restaurant. Our trip to Versailles ate up most of the afternoon. I fully intended to head back to the hotel and change before dinner, but there wasn’t time.

Not that it matters. Jacques is far more focused on Crew than what I’m wearing.

I get a cursory greeting before he starts bombarding Crew with questions. I mouth told you at Crew when he glances at me. His answering smile makes my insides feel like shaken champagne.

Today has been wonderful and terrible. I’ve thought about starting my own fashion line since college. This trip is the culmination of years of planning. Haute served as an unplanned springboard to making connections in the fashion industry that made rouge more attainable.