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I tell myself not to answer. For the third time, my brain doesn’t listen. “My chance forwhat? I already have everything I need.”
“Your chance forhappiness, sweetheart.”
I scoff at that, then glance at Leah’s desk. She’s trying very hard to act like she’s not listening to this conversation. “Crew Kensington? He’s…he’s a means to an end. Nothing more. Treating this like the business relationship it iswillmake me happy.”
My mother purses her lips, but she doesn’t argue. I’m used to her small bursts of maternal concern buried between critiques and strict instructions. “You’ll be in the Hamptons for the Fourth next weekend, right?”
Shit.How is that already next weekend? My parents throw a massive party at their house in the Hamptons for the Fourth of July every year. I’ve been dreading it more than usual ever since I learned I would already be married to Crew by the beginning of July. We’ll be expected to act like the united, loving couple we aren’t for a couple of days.
“Yeah. I’ll be there.”
“And Crew?”
I look away. “I assume so.” That sounds better thanI’ll have my secretary ask his secretary.
The small shake of her head makes it clear that’s not the answer my mother was looking for, but she doesn’t comment further before she turns and leaves.
Rather than head into my office once she disappears, I walk toward the kitchenette around the corner. I pull a sparkling water out of the fridge and carry it into my office, pressing the cold glass bottle against my forehead as soon as I’m out of sight from the rest of the floor. I take a seat at my desk and spin around so I’m staring out at the skyline. My vision blurs as my focus disappears, turning the sharp angles into a jumble.
Home feels different now.
Three hours later, I leave my office. Leah looks up as soon as the door opens, ready for a request or a question. Instead, I tell her, “I’m headed out for the day.”
If she’s trying to mask her shock, she’s doing a poor job of it. Her coffee almost gets upended and sticky notes go flying as she struggles to comprehend my statement. “You’re—I mean, you’re—it’s—” Leah glances at the clock on her computer, as if I’m unaware it’s not even five p.m. yet.
“I have some personal business to take care of. I’ve been gone for a while.”
“I—sure, of course.”
Despite the fact I’m feeling worse instead of better, I manage a smile. “I have a life outside this office, Leah.”
That makes her panic more. “Of course you do. I didn’t mean—I… Please don’t fire me.”
I laugh, then wince as my head gives a particularly painful throb. “I’ll be back in first thing tomorrow.”
Leah nods. “Before you go…”
I pause. “Yes?”
“Your, uh, your husband’s secretary called earlier. While you were in the meeting with Lilyanne Morris.”
“And?”
“She called about the Rutherford gala for the children’s hospital on Friday. Mr. Kensington is requesting you attend with him.”
“Fine.”
Leah looks relieved by my answer. “Okay. I’ll let Celeste know.”
“No need. I’ll handle it.” I’ll have to talk to Crew eventually. It might as well include a conversation about how we’ll handle our joint social calendar.
Leah very obviously wants to ask me what I mean by that, but doesn’t. I want my employees to feel comfortable approaching me, but I don’t invite or indulge speculation about my personal life. That policy has been more difficult to enforce as of late, for obvious reasons. I let the news coverage inform my employees of my hasty engagement and marriage.
Telling someone something invites an opinion on it.
I say goodbye to Leah and head for the elevators, texting my driver to let him know I’m leaving. Twenty minutes later, I climb out of the car and walk into my building to take another elevator up to the top floor.
When the doors open, exhaustion hits me so fast I feel dizzy. This penthouse has always been a safe space for me—somewhere I can be Scarlett. Not poised or prepared or professional or anything anyone expects from me. I resent Crew for taking that sanctuary away from me.
