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Asher’s eyebrows shoot upward. “Really?”
“What I just said, isn’t it?”
He rolls his eyes at my sarcasm. “She came up to you?”
“I went over to her.” I lean back in my chair, making the leather creak. “She was right by me,” I add, as if that detail makes a difference. I can’t recall the last time I approached a woman in a bar, which Asher is well aware of. He’s by my side most nights.
Asher whistles, long and low. “She must have lookeddamngood.”
She did. “I was curious. I’m going to be married to her.”
“And?”
“She’s…something.” I don’t know how else to categorize our interaction. I can’t recall the last time I wanted to keep talking to someone, and they walked away. Shewalked awayfrom me. AfterIapproachedher. I didn’t chase, at least not right away, but I wanted to.
“In a good way or a bad way?”
“I’m still deciding.” My computer chimes with an alert. As I switch over to my calendar, I groan. I’m fully booked until lunch. “I’ve got to go. I’ll see you at one.” We eat lunch together most days.
“Yeah. Sure.”
I grab the stack of folders on my desk and head for the door, only glancing over my shoulder at the last minute. “Feet off the desk, Cotes. I mean it.”
“What are you going to do? Fire me as your best friend?”
“Yep.”
“Then who would you complain about slash compliment your fiancée to?”
I don’t answer before walking out of the room. But his words stay with me as I walk to my next meeting. Scarlett Ellsworth is my fiancée. In a matter of weeks, she’ll be my wife. It doesn’t really bother me. Andthatbothers me.
I’m sitting with Asher and Oliver, talking about the Yankees’ train wreck of a season and eating lunch, when my secretary Celeste appears. “Mr. Kensington?”
“Yes?” I look up from the chicken piccata the catering staff delivered for today’s mid-day meal.
“Um, I’m sorry to bother you. I know you said not to interrupt you during lunch unless there’s an emergency—”
“Isthere an emergency?”
Celeste hesitates before answering. “Miss Ellsworth is here. She’s requesting to speak with you immediately. You didn’t leave me any instructions on how to handle—well, whether to let you know…” Another pause. “She’s quite persistent.”
Asher and Oliver both look at me. Asher appears as surprised as I feel. Oliver’s gaze is discerning; he’s attempting to assess my reaction.
“Here?” I question. “Scarlett Ellsworth ishere?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Send her into my office,” I instruct. “I’ll be there shortly.”
Celeste nods before disappearing back into the hallway. I stand and shrug on my suit jacket, taking a few extra seconds to straighten the lapels and orient myself.Why is she here?
“What is she doing here?” Oliver asks, voicing my confusion.
“She’s probably scoping out the place.” Asher drops his fork and sends the miniature basketball he likes to carry around up into the air, then catches it. “She’s about to gain a substantial stake in Kensington Consolidated.”
Oliver scoffs at that. “Why would she care? She’s got her fashion shit to focus on.”
I say nothing before I walk out of the suite that serves as the floor’s break room. The glass door shuts soundlessly behind me as I stroll down the hallway that leads to the main executives’ offices, which includes mine. Employees scutter out of my way as I pass.
