Fake Empire(7)

Asher settles back in one of the leather chairs facing me. Feet still up. “What pissed you off this morning, then?”

I pick up a Montclair and spin it around one finger, debating on what to say. Fuck it, he’ll find out soon enough. “My engagement is getting announced tomorrow.”

Asher’s eyes widen to a comical size. “To Scarlett Ellsworth?”

I nod. Set the pen down, then pick it back up. “She was at Proof on Friday night.” That fact won’t be included in the engagement announcement. I don’t know why I say it.

“Damn,” is Asher’s initial reaction. “I knew I should have skipped dinner with my folks. How did she look?”

Like a fantasy. “Fine.”

“That good, huh?” Asher isn’t being sarcastic. His tone has turned admiring. He may not come from the sort of money Scarlett and I do, but his family is still wealthy. He’s attended events she’s been at before. He’s seen the thick dark hair and the perennially red lips and the figure that hijacks rational thoughts.

I don’t want to be married to a woman every guy I know is lusting after. A woman I’m attracted to. It’s a complication I don’t need or want in a part of my life I’ve always kept simple and easy.

Scarlett Ellsworth isn’t simple. She’s most definitely not easy. She’s smart and fiery and determined and sassy. And wherever she goes, she’s always the most stunning woman in the room.

She’s the sort of woman men go to war for, yet I didn’t have to do a single thing to win her. Our fathers decided our fates for us nearly a decade ago. I could fight it, but for what? The Ellsworths and the Kensingtons are the two wealthiest, most prominent families in the country. Marrying anyone else besides Scarlett would be marrying down.

“I talked to her,” I admit as I spin the pen around my pointer finger.

I’ve avoided conversation with her for years. We’ve exchanged small talk. Pleasantries. Compliments, like she pointed out. Nothing of substance. Nothing about us. We both knew it wouldn’t change anything.

Asher’s eyebrows shoot upward. “Really?”

“What I just said, isn’t it?”

He rolls his eyes at my sarcasm. “She came up to you?”

“I went over to her.” I lean back in my chair, making the leather creak. “She was right by me,” I add, as if that detail makes a difference. I can’t recall the last time I approached a woman in a bar, which Asher is well aware of. He’s by my side most nights.

Asher whistles, long and low. “She must have looked damn good.”

She did. “I was curious. I’m going to be married to her.”

“And?”

“She’s…something.” I don’t know how else to categorize our interaction. I can’t recall the last time I wanted to keep talking to someone, and they walked away. She walked away from me. After I approached her. I didn’t chase, at least not right away, but I wanted to.

“In a good way or a bad way?”

“I’m still deciding.” My computer chimes with an alert. As I switch over to my calendar, I groan. I’m fully booked until lunch. “I’ve got to go. I’ll see you at one.” We eat lunch together most days.

“Yeah. Sure.”

I grab the stack of folders on my desk and head for the door, only glancing over my shoulder at the last minute. “Feet off the desk, Cotes. I mean it.”

“What are you going to do? Fire me as your best friend?”

“Yep.”

“Then who would you complain about slash compliment your fiancée to?”

I don’t answer before walking out of the room. But his words stay with me as I walk to my next meeting. Scarlett Ellsworth is my fiancée. In a matter of weeks, she’ll be my wife. It doesn’t really bother me. And that bothers me.





I’m sitting with Asher and Oliver, talking about the Yankees’ train wreck of a season and eating lunch, when my secretary Celeste appears. “Mr. Kensington?”

“Yes?” I look up from the chicken piccata the catering staff delivered for today’s mid-day meal.

“Um, I’m sorry to bother you. I know you said not to interrupt you during lunch unless there’s an emergency—”

“Is there an emergency?”

Celeste hesitates before answering. “Miss Ellsworth is here. She’s requesting to speak with you immediately. You didn’t leave me any instructions on how to handle—well, whether to let you know…” Another pause. “She’s quite persistent.”

Asher and Oliver both look at me. Asher appears as surprised as I feel. Oliver’s gaze is discerning; he’s attempting to assess my reaction.

“Here?” I question. “Scarlett Ellsworth is here?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Send her into my office,” I instruct. “I’ll be there shortly.”

Celeste nods before disappearing back into the hallway. I stand and shrug on my suit jacket, taking a few extra seconds to straighten the lapels and orient myself. Why is she here?

“What is she doing here?” Oliver asks, voicing my confusion.

“She’s probably scoping out the place.” Asher drops his fork and sends the miniature basketball he likes to carry around up into the air, then catches it. “She’s about to gain a substantial stake in Kensington Consolidated.”