Fake Empire(71)

I’m sitting at my desk debating whether I should go home yet when Oliver opens my door.

“Ever heard of knocking?” I snap.

“She’s meeting with him.”

“Who is meeting with who?”

“Scarlett. The PI Dad hired just reported she’s at a hotel with Nathaniel Stewart.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. Is that what earlier was about? Guilt? “Right now?”

“That’s what I just said. Come on, let’s go.”

“Go where?”

“To the hotel, Crew.”

“I told you I would handle it.”

“Yeah, well, you handling it seems a lot like you doing nothing. I’m going. You can stay if you want.”

That gets me moving. Oliver showing up alone won’t end well.

The drive starts out in silence, but it doesn’t last long. “Is she like that with you? That shit in the meeting earlier? Dad actually read the two company emails ‘he’ sent out earlier, you know.” Oliver laughs.

“It’s complicated.”

“Sounds like a lot of work.”

“Guess I don’t see the appeal of being with a doormat, the way you and Dad do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Aren’t you sleeping with Candace?”

Oliver’s Porsche swerves to the right and then back straight as he corrects the steering. “Who told you that?”

“You just did.” I laugh. “Wow. Seriously?”

His hands look white thanks to the pressure he’s exerting on the wheel. “Does Dad know?”

“Considering he hasn’t punched you, I doubt it.”

Oliver scoffs. “He doesn’t care about her.”

“He doesn’t,” I agree. “But he’ll definitely care his son is having sex with his wife. If that got out…it would be a PR nightmare for the company.”

“It’s not going to get out.”

I’m not so certain, but I don’t say so. “How did it start?”

He sighs. “I went over there a few months ago, when Dad was in Chicago. I thought Candace had gone with him. She hadn’t. She was there, asked me to stay for a drink. Things evolved from there.”

I shake my head. “Jesus. Is it still going on?”

“It happened a few more times. It was kinda hot, you know? She’s—”

I interrupt. “I don’t want any details. I can’t picture you two together, and I don’t want to.”

Oliver is silent for a few minutes. “I can picture you together. You and Scarlett. Not like that, just in general. And you can deny it all you want, but it’s obvious you care about her.”

“I don’t.” My response sounds empty, even to my own ears.

He hums. “I heard she was in your office after the board meeting.”

I squint over at him as another pair of headlights illuminate the car. “Where did you hear that?” His office is on the opposite end of the floor.

“From at least ten people. Overheard some of the secretaries talking about it too.”

I scoff.

Oliver pulls over opposite the hotel and shifts the car into park. We sit and stare at the building.

“Well?” I ask.

“Well what?”

“This was your idea. What’s next, Sherlock Holmes?”

“Maybe we should go inside. Or you should.”

“Why?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe if you catch her, she’ll feel guilty and tell you what is really going on.”

“That’s the stupidest idea you’ve ever had.”

“My wife isn’t the one cheating on me.”

“No, you’re the Nathaniel in your scenario and I’m Dad.” I lean my head against the glass and close my eyes. “Fuck.”

“There she is.”

I raise my head and open my eyes, fully prepared to see Scarlett kissing another man. Instead, she walks out of the hotel alone, wearing the same dress she had on this morning. Her hair is up in the same fancy twist I was careful not to disturb while she was blowing me. She doesn’t look like she was just rolling around in hotel sheets or engaging in a passionate affair, but looks can be deceiving.

Rather than head straight for the car waiting along the curb, she hesitates. I watch her give the driver a wait a minute gesture and then retreat toward the hotel. She doesn’t walk back inside. Instead, she leans against the brick exterior of the building with her head tipped upward.

After a couple of minutes, she pulls her phone out of her pocket. She stares at it for a few more minutes, then starts tapping on the screen. Eventually, she raises it to her ear.

Oliver swears. “Dammit. I told Dad he should have the PI tap her phone. She’s probably calling Jonathan. Now we won’t—” He stops talking when my phone lights up in the cupholder. Scarlett’s name and the photo of us at the top of the Eiffel Tower light up the screen. “She’s calling you?”

I’m just as shocked as he is.

“Answer it!”

Silently, I grab the phone and tap the green button. I pull in a deep breath as the call connects.

“Crew?”

I shove the anger and jealously and turmoil far, far down and attempt to sound normal. “Hi.”