Fake Empire(68)

“I do want you, Scarlett. That’s the fucking problem.”

“Guess I was right about you hating me. I did think it would take a little longer.” The words are harsh, but I don’t miss the sadness not far beneath. It cuts deep.

“We both know you’re an overachiever.”

I walk out of her bedroom without another word.





“You look terrible,” Asher tells me when I walk into the conference room for the monthly board meeting the following morning. “More trouble in paradise?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I clip. I only left my office for meetings yesterday, going so far as to skip our usual lunch.

Wisely, Asher doesn’t push. My dark mood from yesterday is still hovering, fueled by the copious amount of whiskey I drank last night and the little sleep I got in my penthouse. I’m used to sleeping beside Scarlett. My old mattress felt cold and empty.

Oliver studies me closely as he enters the room and takes a seat across from me. I keep my face impassive. He and my father will want an update. Results from a confrontation I’m not ready to make. At least the surgeon was before we started to feel like a real couple. Knowing she was with someone else right before we left for Europe? That will be far worse than simply simmering with the possibility.

“Did you see the email about the company party?” Asher asks me.

“Yes.” The reminder doesn’t improve my mood. An annual event I was looking forward to—our first outing as a real couple. Up until yesterday morning, when time spent with Scarlett became slow and painful torture. As the future CEO and son of the current one, there’s no way I’ll be able to get out of going.

“Did you watch the Giants game last night?”

“Not really, I…” My voice fades when a familiar face strides into the conference room. “What are you doing here?” I ask Scarlett, far louder than I mean to.

Her face is an indifferent mask. Exactly how she used to look at me. “I’m here for the board meeting. Same as you are, I’d imagine.”

“Why are you here for the board meeting?” I grit out as she pulls at the chair beside me and takes a seat.

“Because I’m a member of the board.” The light floral scent of her perfume surrounds me.

“No you’re not.” The dispute is automatic.

“Yes, I am. The company bylaws state the number of shares I need to hold, and I do. Thanks to our marriage.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and let out a long exhale, ignoring the confused looks from everyone but Asher.

This is payback for last night. I ran that show, so now she’s taking counter measures to prove I’m not in control. Our relationship is an endless chess match.

Scarlett opens a folder, signs some paper with a flourish, and sets it aside before looking at me, challenge dancing in her eyes. I can feel a headache forming. I’m pissed. “Last night, you seemed to think I should act more like a wife,” she tells me. “Here to support you, Sport.”

“This is not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Maybe you should have clarified, then. Not walked out.”

“Do you want me to show up at one of your magazine meetings?” I demand.

Scarlett smirks. “You can’t. Because I own all the shares of my company, remember?”

Always two moves ahead. I lean forward, trying not to get distracted by how she smells. How I can’t help but react to her proximity. “Scarlett—”

Her phone rings. She answers it, like I’m not trying to talk to her. Like we’re not in a boardroom waiting for an important meeting she shouldn’t be attending.

“Hello?” A pause. “No that won’t work. I don’t care. It’s unacceptable.” Whoever she’s talking to replies. “Put him through. I’ll handle it.”

She stands and strides out of the room with the phone pressed to her ear. Everyone watches her leave.

If I were alone, I’d bang my head against the table right now.

Asher leans closer. “Dude.”

“Not now.” I grit my teeth as I open one of the folders that’s been distributed around the table, pretending to look through the graphs and expense reports.

The coffee cart comes around, delivering drinks. Asher orders an espresso, and then it’s my turn.

“Plain coffee, please. Black.” The middle-aged woman who works the small cafe on this floor complies, placing a steaming cup of dark brown liquid in front of me.

“Anything here?” She nods to Scarlett’s bag beside me.

I’m so tempted to say no. But I got into this mess by pissing her off. I sigh. “Do you have non-dairy milk? Soy or something?”

Asher chortles, and I give him a look that promises a slow and painful death if he utters another sound.

“Yes. I have soy.”

“She’ll have a soy cappuccino.”

Isabel walks into the conference room as the barista is making Scarlett’s drink. The look on her face suggests she already knows who owns the stuff strewn beside me. Scarlett must not have gone far to wrap up her phone conversation. There’s only one hallway that leads down here.

Scarlett reappears a couple of minutes later, capturing the attention of the room once more.

“Did he cry?” I mutter sarcastically as she sits down beside me.