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“I’ve gotta head—”
She abruptly stops talking, grabbing a piece of paper off the bedside table and staring at it.
“What?”
No response.
“Hannah? What is it?”
She stumbles back a few steps, until her back collides with the wall.
I clamber out of bed, urgency hastening my movements. Naked with no sign of my clothes, I yank the white sheet off the bed and wrap it around my waist.
“Your last name isKensington?”
I freeze, registering the tone of the question.
Surprise about my last name isn’t anything new from a woman. But the scorn—the horror—in Hannah’s voice is new. My back is to her, so I can’t see Hannah’s expression to tell if I’m reading that right or my headache is warping it.
“Yes.”
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.Fuck.” Hannah is no longer standing. She’s sliding down the wall and sitting on the floor, her long legs stretched out and exposed as her dress rides up her thighs. “This cannot be happening.”
“You know, most women areexcitedwhen they find out my family is worth billions,” I say, taking a few hesitant steps forward.
And it’s never a reaction I’ve enjoyed. It always makes me feel cheap. But I would rather Hannah was looking at me with dollar signs in her eyes than dread.
“Or they ask me if I can get themrougeclothes.”
Hannah closes her eyes, leaning her head back against the wall. “Scarlett Kensington would rather set one of her designs on fire than see me wear it.”
“I…”
Weird response, but it explains some of her reaction. She and Scarlett have a past? Maybe they went to school together?
“You know Scarlett?”
Hannah’s head shakes, her eyes still closed. “Crew.”
His name drops between us like a lead weight.
“Oh.”
I should be less shocked than I am.
Hannah is stunning and Crew spent plenty of nights out partying before he got married. I met many of the women he spent time with, either when they’d sneak out of his room in Kensington Manor back when we both lived there, or at society events. Some of them would flirt with me, especially when it was generally assumed I’d be the next CEO.
None of them sparked the slightest interest, most of them coming off as meek or manipulative.
I never expected Iwouldbe interested in a woman Crew has history with. And it bothers me, honestly, knowing that she’s been with him. It feels like another thing Crew has taken away from me. Which is ridiculous; I barely know Hannah.
I clear my throat in an attempt to break the long silence. “How did you meet him?”
Hannah plays with the edge of the paper she’s still holding. I can’t tell what’s written on it from this angle. Maybe it’s a receipt? Or a bill from the hotel? Something with my full name on it.
“At a bar, in New York. The sports agency has an office there, and I was in the city a fair amount for work. Some girl spilled her drink on me, he brought me napkins.” She shifts, uncomfortable in a way I doubt has anything to do with the hardwood floor. “It went on for a few months. Random nights, here and there. And then, I heard he got married. He’d mentioned Scarlett, but made it sound like an arrangement.”
“I think that’s all he thought it’d be, at first.”
