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Maybe because I know Scarlett wouldn’t be nodding approvingly if I’d told her we talked last night, and I proceeded to lie in bed for hours after she hung up, replaying our short conversation over and over again.
This is more interest than Scarlett has ever shown in my life. I thought she would want Crew to become CEO. Instead, she’s encouraging—helping—me possibly take the role.
Or maybe this has nothing to do with me and everything to do with Hannah. If I’d married someone who has no history with Crew, she probably wouldn’t care this much.
“Once you decide who’s representing you, you should cut off all contact. Have everything go through the lawyers.”
I nod as Scarlett strides toward the door, not bothering to mention Hannah already suggested that. Because while that’s what we both agreed to, she hasn’t given me an attorney’s name. I haven’t given her an attorney’s name.
And now her family knows, which shouldn’t matter. Unless they’re planning to contact theLos Angeles Gazetteand offer up an exclusive, it’ll have no impact on our divorce. But it feels…odd, knowing they know. Wondering what they think of it. Of me.
“Oh, and don’t tell her about Arthur’s offer. If she knows you have a reason to hasten the divorce, she might try to drag it out.”
I nod again.
She nods back, grabbing the door handle.
“Thank you, Scarlett.”
Whatever her motivations, this is more than I expected. And even if she’s focused on helping because she’s worried about the Kensington fortune or hates Hannah, it deserves acknowledgment.
Scarlett nods. “Family is supposed to support you no matter what, right?”
I raise a brow. “Not mine.”
She laughs. “Yeah. Not mine, either.”
“Change is good.”
“It is. Bye, Oliver.”
“Bye, Scarlett.”
I stare at the closed door for a minute after she’s gone, then shake my head and sit down at my desk. I get through the Cushings report that I came in to finish, send it, and then start sifting through unread emails.
Once I’m caught up, I decide I need another cup of coffee.
When I open my office door, my father is standing next to Alicia’s desk. She glances at me nervously as I stand in the doorway, studying my dad.
I could count on one hand the number of times he’s come to my office. He always summons me to his, the largest on the floor, with its own conference room and eating area. It even has a private bathroom. I think it used to be aspirational, aLook what could be yours if you work hard enoughenticement. Now, I see it as a taunt.Look what will never be yours, no matter how hard you work.
But never is no longer as solid as I thought. I’m sure he’s here for an update regarding Quinn, and I don’t have an answer for him.
My father follows Alicia’s gaze over to me.
“Dad,” I greet.
“Oliver.” He mirrors my blank tone. “Do you have a minute?”
I nod and step to the side, letting him walk in first and then closing the door behind him.
“You’re in early.”
I nod again, not mentioning I’ve been here for hours, same as most mornings.
“We haven’t had a chance to speak since dinner. Leonardo is anxious to know—”
“We both know you’re the one impatient for an answer, Dad. And I don’t have one for you. Not yet.”
