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“I can take a hint,” Asher says. “See you outside, Crew.”
My eyes stay on Scarlett as Asher disappears to join Oliver and Jeremy on the sidewalk. Scarlett holds out the envelope she was attempting to hand off at the front desk. “Here. Store it somewhere safe.”
I open it and glance inside. There’s a plastic keycard, like at a hotel, and a piece of paper with a series of numbers written on it. “You got me a wedding gift?”
“You’ll need the code to call the elevator and the card to get into the penthouse.”
“If you want to fuck before we’re married—”
Scarlett cuts me off with a laugh, like the idea of us having sex is a ludicrous one. “That’s not what this is. I won’t be home on Saturday night, and since you were so insistent on living together, I—”
I cut her off. “What do you mean, you won’t be there on Saturday night?”
“I’m flying to Paris as soon as the reception ends,” Scarlett replies. “For a work thing.”
“No, you’re not.” The dispute is automatic. It’s ourwedding night, and she’s planning on flying to France? I probably shouldn’t be surprised, but I’m shocked.
“Yes, Iam. Jacques Deux has a waiting list for years. I called in ten favors to get this meeting with him.”
“It’s our wedding night. People will talk.”
“I don’t care. Doyounormally clear your schedule for the night after a merger closes?”
I exhale instead of saying something I’ll regret. “What is your meeting about?”
Based on the way Scarlett sighs—like the question is a major inconvenience—she was hoping I wouldn’t ask it. “Why?” she challenges.
I say nothing, just stare.
She sighs again. “I’m starting a clothing line. Jacques Deux has worked with every prominent designer in the last decade. His input, his ideas, they’ll make a big difference in the success of the brand.”
“This is why you changed the prenup,” I realize.
The earning potential forHauteis nothing compared to a clothing brand. Especially one created by Scarlett soon-to-be Kensington. Public interest in the both of us has skyrocketed since our engagement was announced. We’re a fairytale, minus the ugly stepsisters or the poor beginnings.
“If I hadn’t, this could be a conversation. But Idid, and yousigned, so it’s not. If I need to go to Paris for a meeting, I’ll go to Paris.”
“It’s only the timing I have issue with,” I tell her, quietly. I didn’t have expectations for our wedding night, but I definitely had hopes. Fantasies that required her to be in New York City, not the capital of France.
Her brow wrinkles for a minute before it smooths. “I can’t change the timing, Crew.”
“Fine.” I don’t even know why I’m bothering to argue.
“Fine,” she echoes. Glances away from me, looks back, and sighs. “I wrote my cell number down in there too. In case you have questions about the building.”
I could lie, but I don’t. “I have your number, Scarlett.”
She raises one eyebrow. “I didn’t give it to you.”
“I know. I got it a while ago. I thought about reaching out to you a few times. Thought it might…” I shake my head. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. Go wherever you want, Scarlett.”
“I will.”
She’s getting what she wants, yet she still sounds pissed. Rather than push, I nod toward the door. “That all?”
Her chin jerks up. “Yes. That’sall.” She spins and heads toward the glass doors that lead to the street.
“Great,” I mutter sarcastically as I follow. Based on the way her shoulders stiffen, she heard me.
