Cruel Fortune (Cruel #2)(5)

I hoped that I wouldn’t have to admit that today.

“The lady of the hour,” Gillian called excitedly as she entered the room, “Olivia Davies.”

I laughed and stepped into the conference room. My heart was in my throat at the splatter of applause from everyone at Warren. They all stood up from their seats and came over to say hello to me. I was just moving up to the head of the room with Gillian to take my seat when a side door opened, and a figure ducked his head into the conference room.

“Sorry I’m late. Traffic was hell.”

My eyes lifted to meet his as I realized that I recognized that voice. I took in the black suit that molded to his body, the award-winning smile, smooth brown skin, and dark chocolate-brown eyes that I’d been certain I wouldn’t see here. Because he didn’t work for Warren Publishing. He worked with hedge funds. Not the publishing company that was his namesake.

“Lewis?” I gasped.

When he took in my shock, he smirked. “Hey, gorgeous.”





Natalie





2





My stomach dropped out of my body. It was the same sensation as getting to the top of a roller coaster and free-falling into oblivion. Sudden and total paralyzing fear ripped through me.

Because this wasn’t supposed to happen.

No one from last year was supposed to know that I was in New York. I’d been certain that I could get in and out of the city in a matter of days without seeing any of the crew or dealing with any of my emotional baggage. For one of the people who was the cause of all of it to stride right into my meeting, I couldn’t even begin to process it.

And Lewis was definitely one of the causes. Penn’s best friend and one of his crew who had been in on the little bet I was the subject of last year.

Admittedly, Lewis was a Warren. There had always been a chance he’d be here. But I’d thought it was so small as to be infinitesimal. I’d always gotten the impression from him that publishing was almost a hobby for his family of billionaires. A fun pet project but nothing with which to be concerned. They had much more important things to concern themselves with. Lewis had once likened his real family business to putting hotels on Boardwalk.

Except…now, he was here.

In my meeting.

And it couldn’t fucking be a coincidence.

“Olivia, you know…Lewis Warren?” Gillian asked with a mix of shock and apprehension in her normally cheerful voice.

“Olivia,” he drawled. He arched an eyebrow at my pen name.

“No,” I answered at once.

“No?” he asked from those too-perfect lips and that too-handsome face.

“We’re acquainted,” I corrected. “Briefly.”

“Now, that is a story I’d love to hear,” Gillian said.

“It’s not really that interesting.”

“Oh, don’t be shy, Olivia,” Lewis said. “Tell everyone how we met.”

I stared daggers at him and wondered what sort of world I lived in to have to endure this torture in front of everyone who mattered for my career. I couldn’t just tell him to go fuck himself here. Not like I wanted. Not without questions getting hurled at me.

But what could I say that wouldn’t give away that he was part of my book?

“He…went on a date with my friend Amy.” Not exactly a lie.

“Ah, yes, Amy,” Lewis said with a laugh. “Does she still prefer broke artists?”

“She does.”

“And will she still love you after your book releases tomorrow and blows up all the charts?” His eyes twinkled as I squirmed.

“I’ll have to ask her,” I said with a fake smile on my face.

Gillian laughed at our exchange. “What are the chances that you would know Lewis Warren? Well, I cannot wait to hear the full story later. Why don’t we all take our seats and get started with this meeting?”

“Yes. Let’s.” My eyes narrowed in his direction.

“Great idea.”

Lewis promptly took the chair directly across from my seat and winked at me. My cheeks heated as my anger lit like a fuse. Forget nerves for this meeting and enter cold, hard fury that this moment was being ruined by an Upper East Side prick who had been involved in the bet on whether or not I’d fall in love with his best friend. It wasn’t enough that the only book I’d gotten published was about this event. He had to be here to witness them discuss it.

I tried to block him out and focus on the meeting at hand. But I couldn’t seem to get it together. I wanted to know how he had known. Because he had to have known. And, if he had known …did that mean the others did too? Did Penn know?

I recoiled from that thought. He couldn’t know. I didn’t want to think about him or deal with him or see him.

“Olivia?” Gillian asked, clearly repeating herself.

I’d been so zoned out, thinking about the past, that I didn’t even hear her question. Or much of anything that had come before that. Had we been discussing the marketing strategies? Or preorder numbers? Had someone mentioned the New York Times?

“Sorry. What was that?”

“We wanted to discuss your next project,” Gillian said. “It’s not often we have the whole team together with the author.”