Fake Empire(84)

I look Hannah straight in the eye. “I don’t believe you.”

I walk out of the restroom without another word. The muffled music and voices coming from the hall sound loud after the quiet confrontation in the bathroom.

When I reenter the party, my gaze is drawn straight to Crew. He’s standing near our empty table, looking sinfully sexy in his tuxedo as he clutches a glass of amber liquid and talks with a large crowd of men. Holding court.

I sigh and head for the open bar. Joseph Huntington, a good friend of my father’s, is standing alongside it, watching the bartender mix a martini. He smiles when he sees me. “Scarlett! How are you, dear?”

“I’m well, Mr. Huntington. How are you?”

“Good, good.”

“Quite the family you married into, eh?” He waves a hand around at the opulence surrounding us. “Hanson has never thrown this sort of affair.”

I shrug. “My father isn’t one for pomp.”

“Wouldn’t have known that, seeing the wedding he paid for.”

I smile. “Blame my mother for that.”

“Maybe you’ll shake things up when Hanson steps down.” Joseph peers at me closely. I’ve mostly ignored the speculation about the future of Ellsworth Enterprises, even as it’s grown louder. My father is nearing retirement age. I didn’t take a job at the company, the way everyone expected me to. I married Crew, who has an empire of his own to run.

“Maybe.”

Joseph smiles at my vague response and picks up his drink. “Have a lovely evening.”

“You too.”

I turn to the bartender once he disappears. “Hi. Can you make me something without alcohol, please?”

The bartender grins. He’s cute, close to my age. With a lanky build and shaggy hair. “First request I’ve gotten of those tonight.”

“I’ll bet. Businessmen love their fancy liquor.”

“No kidding. If I pawned one of these bottles, I’d be able to pay rent for months.” He backtracks quickly. “I’m not going to, obviously. Just a bad joke.”

I laugh. “Don’t worry about it. And I doubt anyone would even notice.”

“Do you like ginger?”

“Yes.”

He nods and starts pouring.

“Have you bartended long?”

“A couple of years. I’m getting my master’s at NYU. It’s good money and works with my class schedule.”

“What are you getting your master’s in?”

He looks sheepish. “Anthropology. You can laugh. I’ll be eating Ramen my whole life.”

“Good for you,” I say, and mean it. “Money is overrated.”

“Easy to say when you have it.”

“You’re right,” I agree. “But I bet most of these people aren’t very happy with their lives.”

“Are you?”

I sigh. “That’s a complicated question.”

“It is.” He studies me for a minute, then holds out a hand. “I’m Charlie.”

I shake his offered hand. “Scarlett.”

“Do you work for Kensington Consolidated?”

“Not exactly. I’m married to a Kensington.”

“I thought I recognized you,” Charlie replies. “You had that big, fancy wedding this summer, didn’t you?”

“Yep.”

“My little sister loves your magazine.”

I smile. “Really?”

“Uh-huh. Last time I went home, my bed was covered with old Haute issues.”

“Seriously?”

“I swear.”

“Wow. That’s flattering.”

Charlie slides a glass with a pink tinge in front of me. “Sort of a Shirley Temple, but I added a few special ingredients. No alcohol.”

“Thank you.” I take a sip. It tastes like ginger, grapefruit, and rosemary. “It’s really good.”

“Good.”

I keep chatting with Charlie. Occasionally someone comes up for a refill, and he has to work. I often end up in conversation with whoever it is, hearing over and over again about what a fantastic job Crew is doing and how they’re so excited for the future.

By the time Crew himself appears, I’m on my third mocktail, chasing ice around in circles with a straw as Charlie makes someone a gin and tonic.

“Hey.” He stops beside me, close enough I can feel the heat radiating from his body.

“Hey.” Ice clinks against my glass as I keep chasing it round and round. Hannah’s annoying lilt bounces around my head.

I don’t want him. I have him.

Crew looks me over. I know, because I can feel each spot his gaze grazes. “Are you drunk?”

I laugh. “Nope.” I pop the P for emphasis. “I wish.”

His brow furrows as he tries to decode my words. “Are you ready to go?”

“Are you?”

“I wouldn’t be asking if I weren’t.”

I snort. “Right. We only do what you want. Since I’m just Crew Kensington’s wife. Nothing more. Nothing meaningful.”

Hurt, then anger flash across his face. “I thought we were past this shit.”

“Yeah, me too. Then I spent all night getting treated like a prop, while you were nowhere to be found.”