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I scoff. “When aren’t you?”
King’s face shuts down again. “I’m not going to keep having the same fight with you, Thorin. Either we move past it or we don’t.”
Even though I know he’s right, I pinch the bridge of my nose for the second time today. “Youare the one acting as if something bad is happening between Bex and me doing charity work and that you need to warn me off.”
He shakes his head. “That’s not what I’m doing.”
“I beg to differ.”
King continues to glare at me, but his stony expression no longer phases me. “I was going to say that if you think there’s anusthen do what makes you happy. If you’re going to sit there and accuse me of being an outright dick for the sake of it, at least know where I stand first.”
Who is this person and what has he done with the infamous kingmaker of New York that will bury you alive and dismantle your entire being for a paycheck?
Apparently my face gives way to my thoughts as King snaps, “I’m trying to be a nicer person, goddamnit. It’s called growth.”
I’m pretty sure it’s calledEmiliabut I don’t bother pointing that out. “I’m sorry, I was expecting a typical King response.”
The annoyance on his face disappears when he heavily exhales. “You know what I hate?”
“People.”
He waves away my answer. “Beyond that. I hate being wrong. I won’t apologize for interfering with your marriage because at the time I thought I was doing the right thing, but I was wrong in my assumption of Bex. She actually might be the nicest person on the planet. At least according to Emilia’s research and Whitney’s constant blabbering.” He pauses for a moment. “I would like to accompany you as a friend, with Emilia, to one of these volunteer experiences if that’s alright with you.”
This is probably the closest King has ever been to asking permission for something. Instead of immediately responding, I open my desk drawer and pull out the highlighted list courtesy of Bex and hand it over to him. “The ones I’ve found an interest in are highlighted green.”
“You’ve colored a lot of these.” King skims his eyes down each page.
“A little of everything,” I explain. “How else will I know what I like?”
“The exposure will be good too.”
“Already thought of that. You might stop and talk to Holly before you leave. Under my name, articles are barely appearing about the event. However, if you search Bex’s name, last night appears in several pieces.”
King hums while continuing to read through the list. “Bex’s name will always be larger in the philanthropic community because she thrives there. People love her. They look to her to see what volunteering they can back financially or through hands-on opportunities. Your name will appear the more events you go to. Bex’s exposure will help you since it’ll become quite obvious that you’re there with her.”
“Do you think the news reporting about my alleged drug habit will impede the charities wanting to work with her if I show up?”
King shakes his head, still not looking at me as he scans the dossier from Bex. “No. They’ll want to bring attention to themselves and if a ‘recovering’ drug addict showing up working with New York’s favorite princess will do it, then they won’t object.”
“Now she’s a princess?” I flick an eyebrow up, a scoff leaving my throat. King didn’t say it in a negative connotation, but it’s not a word he typically uses in a positive way.
“She’s always been a princess.” King stops reading to lift his head, a look of contemplation crossing his face. “She’s the heir to the Hastings Humanitarian Award franchise. She’s a princess in the philanthropic light and people will look to her to lead where humanitarian efforts should be focused. She’s not going to take a hit for helping guide you.”
Deciding it’s best to redirect the conversation off of Bex, I ask him, “How bad are the tabloids about me today?”
“It’s a mixture of you being named number four on the richest people list and how your billions must be funneling your cocaine and sex addiction.”
I blink several times as his words penetrate. “Sex addiction? That’s new,” I manage to choke the words out.
“At this point they’re saying whatever will sell magazines,” King sighs. “People love a scandal of someone of high esteem falling amongst the filth of the world.”
My lips curl in disgust. “Filth?”
“Most people consider drug addicts among the same level of population as the homeless. I didn’t create the connection, I’m merely pointing out what,” he pauses and pulls out his phone, “Society Affairs of NYCmagazine is stating in regards to you.”
I roll my eyes. That particular fucking magazine supposedly covers high society in New York by quoting ‘close friends’ which is utter bullshit. The main reporter, Vicky Elmer, is a well known liar amongst the elite of the city, though most of the New York population tends to buy into her particular brand of bullshit.
“Ward Enterprises media department has been reaching out to the magazine but they’re reluctant to work with us.” King’s voice gives way that he didn’t believe that particular plan was going to work anyways, even if someone in the media department thought to give it a try.
