Fake Empire(65)

I comply, and my release starts to build instantly. I’m close, so close, and I feel the dredges of my willpower snap. I no longer care about being in control. About his insistence on wearing a condom. About the fact this trip is a respite from the reality we’ll have to face soon.

“Touch me, Crew, please.”

I beg, and he doesn’t tease me about it. He’s suddenly everywhere. His lips suckle their way along my neck. One hand massages my breast, and the other sneaks between my thighs to touch the soaking spot where he’s sliding inside me.

I detonate in seconds. Hot, blinding pleasure washes over every inch of me, lighting up every cell and spreading heat. Crew takes over, impaling me on himself again and again. Prolonging my release and jerking inside me as he finds his own.

I collapse against him, breathing heavily. My limbs feel loose and languid, wrung out.

His hands run up and down my calves.

“And they say reality doesn’t live up to fantasy,” Crew whispers to me.

I smile against his hot skin.





CHAPTER FOURTEEN





CREW





When I walk into the conference room for the weekly eight a.m. chat on Monday morning, my father and brother are uncharacteristically silent. I’m uncharacteristically cheerful. Scarlett and I returned from Italy on Saturday. Things between us are good—shockingly good. She wandered into the home gym when I was working out this morning and we ended up having sex on a yoga mat. But our relationship hasn’t become just physical. We agreed we’d both be home by eight p.m. and eat dinner together. It feels like the start of a new normal, one I want a surprising amount.

I take a seat at the table meant for thirty. “Morning.”

Oliver looks uncomfortable while my father appears grim. Something is wrong. For once, I wish someone else was in charge to handle whatever problem has surfaced. The final vestiges of the peace I felt with Scarlett last week slip away.

“What’s wrong?”

Apprehension grows when neither of them answer.

“Is this an actual problem or did one of you lose to a potential client on the course?”

My father speaks first. “I’ve been talking to Nathaniel Stewart about some investments.”

I look from my father to Oliver, searching for some clue of why that’s an issue. “Okay.”

Nathaniel Stewart was a couple of years ahead of me at Harvard. He’s built up a solid reputation on Wall Street for smart investments in up-and-coming companies. Not the sort of business my father usually bothers with, but I could not care less. It’s not something that should rise to the level of these meetings. There must be more to the story.

“How are things with Scarlett?” my father asks abruptly.

I tense, realizing the lack of transition means this must have something to do with her. “Fine.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Really,” I reply. “I don’t think my marriage is any of your business.”

“Of course it is. She serves a purpose.” My father tosses a manilla envelope onto the shiny wood separating us. “She’s cheating on you, Crew.”

Shock freezes me for a few seconds.

“What?”

“My best PI took these two weeks ago. They met outside The Chatwell and were inside for over an hour. He had a room booked. It wasn’t the first time. All the records are in there. They’ve been meeting regularly for the past year.”

I don’t say a word as I open the envelope and let the glossy photographs spill out. They’re bad. Nathaniel’s hand resting on Scarlett’s lower back. His lips on her cheek. One shows them standing in the lobby while he whispers into her ear. I can’t see her expression in any of them, but Nathaniel looks smug.

Two weeks ago. These were taken before Italy, before we slept together. It doesn’t feel like much of a consolation. We were already married. The surgeon was bad enough, but at least I didn’t have to see evidence of it. Nathaniel Stewart rarely pops up at parties, but he attends some events. I’ll have to see his smug face in person at some point—and not plant my fist in it.

“Do you spy on all of your business partners?”

My father leans back in his chair, studying me closely. “Yes. I’m not about to climb into a crowded bed. A man about to be bled dry by a vengeful wife isn’t of much use to me. Not every woman is as understanding as Candace.” The cavalier way he talks about his second wife looking away from his affairs would bother me if I could look away from the photographs.

I gather them up and stuff them back into the envelope so I don’t have to keep staring at them.

“Scarlett can do whatever the hell she wants. I do.” The words taste bitter on my tongue.

“No, she can’t, Crew. She’s a Kensington, part of the future of this family. Spreading her legs for potential business partners is not an option. Keep her in line.”

I work my jaw. “I’ll handle it, okay?”

“Handle it how?”

“I don’t know yet. Give me more than five minutes to think about it.” I may disagree with plenty of the things my dad says and does, but he’s my father, my boss, and arguably the most powerful man in the country. The sharp tone I snap those two sentences in isn’t one I’ve ever used with him before.