“Lucky me,” he mutters, dejected.
Is this seriously the same guy from the club? That can’t be right, because that man, though he obviously didn’t want to be at the bar, had something compelling in his silvery eyes. Our conversation was brief, but I enjoyed it, and it all started with my curiosity. But there is nothing about the guy driving the golf cart that makes me want to learn more.
I can tell it’s going to be like pulling teeth trying to befriend Kingsley. Why didn’t they assign us to get close to one of his sisters instead? What is so special about Kingsley?
He takes us around and points out some resort buildings, as well as the employee wing where we’ll be staying for the twoweeks, and we must pass at least five different restaurants on the property. Talk about overkill.
“Kingsley.” My brother points past us. “Can we stop at that vending machine? I’m parched.”
He nods, eyes fixated on one up ahead under an awning. The cart parks, Thomas exits to buy a fizzy drink with his change, leaving me with our talkative driver.
He shuts his eyes and exhales as if driving us around for an hour is a tiresome job, and a pop sounds as he cracks his knuckles.
“Do you remember me from last night?”
One eye opens to look at me. “How could I forget that accent?”
What’s his deal with my accent? “Is that a compliment?”
A sharp exhale escapes in an attempt at a laugh. “It can be.”
Then I’ll take it as one.
“You talk a lot less than the articles say.”
“Do I?”
All the articles about the Beaumonts go on about how generous and charming they are. Unlike other stuck-up families, they give to charity, offer free housing to their employees to show appreciation, and are known for being witty and charismatic in public.
Kingsley, Odette, and Aralynn specifically are loved by the public. They’re young and attractive, and that’s enough for everyone to fawn over. Articles can’t stop talking about the Beaumont kids, speculating about their futures and loudly praising them when they do something as simple as wiping their ass on their own.
I’m exaggerating, but that’s the point. The articles describe the complete opposite of the detached, bored person sitting beside me. Then again, all of those articles are before his fiancée’s untimely death.
“Yeah. Hopefully, I’ll start seeing some of the charm everyone describes when we film,” I tell him. “It’s going to be your first time back in the public eye, yeah?”
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. I’ll take that as a yes.
Did her death change him, or was he always a two-worded prick? Hell, maybe he doesn’t want to talk to me. I am his employee, after all. These half-arsed answers are all I’ll get because it’s all he cares enough to give.
For some reason, my jaw clenches. “Is this what it’s going to be like working with you? I speak, and you stare at me like you would rather die than interact. Honestly, I don’t want to do this as much as you do, but it’s going to be rough if you don’t at least pretend to care.”
My teeth grind together. Why the hell am I so worked up over this? Sure, Kingsley will be tougher to crack than I expected, but that’s not where the fire in my chest is coming from. I watch his blank stare, arms resting in his lap while he figures out what to say, or maybe he won’t say anything at all.
I can’t believe he has the audacity to ignore me.
Kingsley looks directly at me for the first time tonight, and I suck in a breath. His skin is softer in the dark, the dim lighting clashing against his already monochrome complexion, mixing with the flushed yellow and gray.
His eyes soften and his face scrunches up, almost as if he’s confused why I’m calling him out. It’s the most emotion I’ve seen out of him since the club.
But then he blinks it away.
“I think I’ve spoken to you a lot,” he says simply.
I fight the urge to press more than my brother climbs into the vehicle, a Coke in hand.
“It tried to steal my money, but I took it. Also, why are American dollars all green? It can be confusing,” Thomas says as the click from the can sounds.
I thinkAmericansare confusing.
