Fake Empire(92)

“You don’t have to. You can stay.”

His brow wrinkles. “I’ll have to talk for parts of it. I don’t want to disturb you.”

“I’m not a sleeping toddler. And I figured you’d have to talk, since you’re Mr. Future CEO.” It’s not a direct invitation, but it’s awfully close to one. I want him to stay. And so I just say that. “I want you to stay.”

“Okay,” Crew replies, his voice soft. “I’ll stay.”

I nod and close my eyes. I have proofs to approve, but they should only take me a few hours. My eyelids feel heavy, and I’m warm and comfortable. Full.

Crew’s phone beeps as he types in a conference code and waits for approval. “Crew Kensington, is anyone else on the line?” he asks, once the call connects.

“We’re all here, sir,” a male voice replies.

“Great. Go ahead and get started.”

The same male voice begins droning on about deliverables and staffing decisions. Inch by inch, I shift on the comforter until I’m close enough I can feel Crew’s body heat. He asks a question I’m too drowsy to comprehend, simultaneously pulling me against him so I’m nestled against his side.

I fall asleep to the sound of his voice talking through contracts as he plays with my hair.





CHAPTER TWENTY





CREW





My small, dysfunctional family is already seated when we board the plane bound for the Alps. My father raises both eyebrows when he takes in the pile of luggage and the dog we have in tow but doesn’t comment.

Candace squeals. “What a cute puppy! Did you just get him?”

“No, we’ve had him for a couple of months,” I reply. I don’t have the relationship with Candace—with any of my immediate family—where I’d announce the arrival of a canine companion.

My stepmother is too busy petting Teddy to reply. The staff is moving efficiently about the jet, stowing our suitcases and preparing for takeoff.

I take a seat across from my father. “Hi, Dad.”

“That animal better not have an accident on here,” he comments, sipping at some amber liquid, although it’s not even noon.

Teddy tends to get overexcited easily, but I don’t mention that.

Scarlett is still standing by the door, talking to one of the stewardesses. She nods and then heads for me, taking the seat next to mine. “Merry Christmas, Arthur.”

My father grunts.

Despite the fact it’s warm on the plane, Scarlett leaves her down coat on. She’s visibly pregnant now, with a slight bump that I find to be the sexiest sight in the world. There’s something primal and painfully arousing about the fact she’s pregnant with my child.

“No Oliver?”

“He’s running late,” Candace says, sitting down across the aisle. “Should be here soon.”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. Now that I know about her and Oliver…I can’t unknow it.

My brother shows up a few minutes into the awkward silence. His bags are stowed with the rest of ours as he greets us all and makes small talk with my father.

A couple of minutes later, we’re in the air. Teddy seems unbothered by the altitude, napping at Scarlett’s feet. She’s scrolling through something on her phone. I assume it’s work-related, but when I sneak a peek at the screen, I discover she’s looking at cribs.

I smile before starting to swipe through the documents on my tablet I downloaded to review.

We’re a few hours into the flight when the stewardess appears to serve lunch. She distributes each meal and then comes around with drinks. My father’s cognac gets refilled. Then it’s Candace’s turn. She rejects the offered alcohol with, “I can’t drink that. I’m pregnant.”

Total silence fills the cabin. Even my father looks up from the paper he was reading. “What did you say?”

“I’m pregnant, Arthur. Isn’t that exciting?”

Candace sounds bubbly and happy. My father looks shocked. Scarlett looks to me, wide-eyed. It’s the same announcement we were planning to make on this trip. Thunder stolen. But I realize why she looks so shocked when she glances at Oliver. His complexion has turned gray.

And all of a sudden, I realize…I’m not certain the baby is my father’s.





As soon as I have a chance to, I corner Oliver. We end up in the living room of the chalet, right between the elaborately decorated Christmas tree and a stunning view of the snow-capped mountains.

“Tell me there’s no chance it’s yours.”

He looks away. “I’ll talk to her.”

I swear. “Oliver, I swear to God, if you—”

“I know I fucked up, Crew. I don’t need the perfect son rubbing it in.”

“If perfect is not fucking our stepmother, then it’s a damn low bar,” I snap. “You need to handle this. Immediately. If Dad suspects… If Candace talks… This could be a total disaster. And it’s the last thing I need right now. I’ve got enough going on, with—”

“With what?”

I glance around to make sure we’re still alone. “Scarlett is pregnant.”

“Whoa.” Oliver blinks. “Are you sure…” My glare cuts him off. He clears his throat. “Right. Congrats.”