Fake Empire (Kensingtons Book 1)

The cardboard boxes that have lined the front hallway for the last week are piled directly in front of the elevator when the doors to my penthouse open.

What the hell?

I push two stacks aside, wondering if the movers messed up the dates. The building staff would have notified me if they showed up early. The only way up here is through the front desk or with the code only a few people have.

The mystery is solved when Asher appears, wearing basketball shorts and a ball cap reading Best Man.

“What are you doing here?” I grumble, dropping my briefcase atop a box and pulling off my jacket. “And what the fuck are you wearing?”

He grins. “I told you I was throwing you a last hurrah! Farewell to bachelorhood and all that jazz.”

“And I told you that we’ll keep getting drunk and picking up women after I’m married, so there’s really no point in doing anything.”

“Well, I didn’t listen. Pizza will be here soon. So will Oliver and Jeremy.”

I can feel a headache forming as I walk into the kitchen. “You invited Oliver?”

“Yep.”

“And he said yes?” I open the fridge, debating what to eat. While I deliberate, I grab a beer.

“I wouldn’t drink that,” Asher tells me.

I pause. “Why?”

“Because I’ve been reliably informed it’s a bad idea to do the activity we’ll be partaking in tonight, drunk.”

“What the hell kind of bachelor party is spent sober?”

“We go out and get drunk all the time, like you said. I got creative.”

With a sigh, I stick the beer back in the fridge. “I’m going to change. Don’t move any more boxes around.”

“Put on something you’d exercise in!” Asher calls after me.

I grumble a response as I walk down the hallway toward my bedroom. Boxes litter this room too. I’ve lived here for less than a year, since I graduated business school at Yale and moved back to the city for good. It’s strange to see it so empty. Most of my belongings are being shipped to Scarlett’s, since she insisted on remaining in her place after our wedding. I was informed—via her attorney telling mine, our main mode of communication—that I was welcome to stay in my own penthouse following our marriage. I have no burning desire to cohabitate with a woman. The only urge outweighing it is the fact I don’t share Scarlett’s apparent willingness to leave our lives completely unchanged once we share the same last name.

There was a time my younger self dreaded marriage as a prospect involving a clingy wife and no freedom. Fucking laughable, in hindsight. Scarlett seems loathe to so much as to talk with me.

I change out of the suit I’ve been wearing all day, into a cotton t-shirt and a pair of joggers. New York has been unseasonably cool for June. Candace even called me on Monday to ask if Scarlett was reconsidering her strapless dress. I let a long silence answer for me.

In the short time I’ve known my father’s second wife, I’ve come to the conclusion she lives in a fantasy world. One where my father views her as a comfort, not a convenience. One where Oliver and I look at her with lust. One where I give any thought to what dress Scarlett might wear on our wedding day and how warm or cold she’ll be.

That last one isn’t much of a stretch, though.

I went so far as to search photos of strapless wedding dresses, just to know what to expect. I’ve never seen Scarlett look anything short of devastating. I have a whole lot of apprehension about seeing her on our wedding day that I’m certain most grooms don’t grapple with.

Lines between us have blurred. Boundaries have sharpened. I can barely think straight when I’m around her. I’m hoping that’s a problem that will magically disappear soon.

When I reenter the kitchen, Jeremy and Oliver have arrived. Jeremy Brennan has known me almost as long as Asher has. He’s not a native New Yorker; his family is from Boston. We went to the same boarding school in New Hampshire, then both ended up at Harvard. He remained in Boston after Asher and I left for Yale, graduating from law school there a couple of weeks ago.

Jeremy grins as soon as he sees me. “Here’s the groom!”

I roll my eyes as I give him a hug and a slap on the back. “Pass the bar yet, Brennan?” S~ᴇaʀᴄh the FɪndNøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“Knew I should have stayed in Boston.” His hometown’s heavy accent saturates each word, sinking syllables in the lazy drawl. “Things I do for you, Kensington. Especially since I didn’t get so much as a cigar from you for graduating from the law school that spews out presidents.”

That, I do feel bad about. I was planning to return to Harvard for Jeremy’s law school graduation, not just send a gift. Back before my marriage became imminent. “I’ll make it up to you.”

Jeremy shakes his head. “I’m mostly fucking with you, man. I know the job was you. Everyone in my year wanted the position at Kensington Consolidated. I owe you.”

“All I did was mention your name,” I tell him. It’s true. We both know that’s all it takes when your last name is plastered on the building.

“All the gift you need will be watching Crew try to manage his bride at the wedding,” Asher tells Jeremy, opening one of the boxes of pizza that’s appeared on the granite counter of my kitchen island. “Fucking hilarious,” he adds around a big bite of pepperoni and cheese.

I grit my teeth and reconsider opening a beer; mysterious activities be damned. Asher insisted on accompanying me to St. Patrick’s Cathedral for the one joint wedding-related event neither Scarlett nor I were able to get out of: meeting with the priest. Neither of us have a wedding party. It was Scarlett’s request, and one I was happy to go along with. I would have wanted to ask Asher to be my best man—which I guess he picked up on, given his hat—and would have been obligated to ask Oliver instead.

Since the lack of bridesmaids and groomsmen limits the number of people involved in the nuptials themselves considerably, the meeting also involved going over the logistics of the ceremony. Evidently, Hanson Ellsworth decided he didn’t need any guidance on walking Scarlett down the aisle, so it ended up being just the two of us sitting and standing in total silence. I’m surprised the priest didn’t suggest couples counseling.

Asher didn’t witness any of the awkwardness inside the cathedral. He’s referring to the fact that Roman, my driver, pulled up outside the cathedral at the same time as Scarlett’s car did. Meaning he had a front-row seat to the tense encounter that marked the first time we’d seen each other since the dinner at my family’s estate several weeks ago.

An evening meant to build bridges.

Between me and Scarlett, they burned.

“You remember Scarlett, don’t you?” Asher asks Jeremy.

Jeremy grins. “She’s hard to forget. I had a class with her freshman year. Managerial Accounting.” He grins. “She gave the professor a run for his money. Only reason I understood cash flow analysis.”

“You talked to her?” I ask, taken aback. During our college years, I was grateful my path never crossed with Scarlett’s. Happy to fuck around with whatever—and whoever—I wanted with no reminder of the responsibilities waiting for me following graduation. I never considered my friends might have talked to her. Done more than talked to her.

Jeremy shrugs as he grabs his own slice of pizza. “A couple of times. I mean, there wasn’t a guy in that class who wasn’t trying to tap that.”

My jaw clenches with something that feels a lot like jealousy.

“I mentioned Crew once, trying to impress her,” he continues, then laughs. “Had the opposite effect. It took me until sophomore year to figure out why.” He glances at me. “Still don’t get the whole arranged marriage thing. Leave that to the royal family.”

“Crew isn’t all that broken up about it,” Asher replies. “Without lifting a finger, he’s marrying the hottest woman I’ve ever seen.”

I look Oliver’s way. He’s remained mostly quiet as he munches on pizza. I’m surprised he agreed to come to this. I’m not surprised he’s currently reading on his phone. Something related to work, no doubt.

We finish eating and then head out. Asher holds firm in his refusal to share any details of the evening’s plans. When the elevator doors open to the lobby of my building, it’s just beginning to grow dark outside. Asher and I follow Jeremy and Oliver—who’s still on his phone—toward the doors that open onto the street.

Halfway there, I notice a woman standing at the front desk. Her back is to me, but she’s wearing jeans, a white blouse, and a pair of pink heels. I trail my eyes up from the splash of color, tracing her curves up until I reach the elaborate braid her brunette hair is pulled back in. Hair the same color as…

“Scarlett?”

The woman’s shoulders rise and tense. Lower, like she’s letting out a long breath. She didn’t come here to see me, that much is obvious.

“Never mind,” I hear her say before she turns around.

In what I guess is her idea of casual attire, she still stuns me. Nothing about her is what I thought was my type. Not the superiority complex or the snappy retorts. Her red lips are twisted into what could best be described as a sneer as she studies me.

“I was hoping not to see you.”

Bluntness is a trait I used to think I did appreciate.

Asher does a shitty job of muffling his laugh.

“That explains why you’re in my building,” I retort.

Scarlett sighs. “Since you’re here… I need to talk to you.” Her glance at Asher is pointed. “Alone.”

“I can take a hint,” Asher says. “See you outside, Crew.”

My eyes stay on Scarlett as Asher disappears to join Oliver and Jeremy on the sidewalk. Scarlett holds out the envelope she was attempting to hand off at the front desk. “Here. Store it somewhere safe.”

I open it and glance inside. There’s a plastic keycard, like at a hotel, and a piece of paper with a series of numbers written on it. “You got me a wedding gift?”

“You’ll need the code to call the elevator and the card to get into the penthouse.”

“If you want to fuck before we’re married—”

Scarlett cuts me off with a laugh, like the idea of us having sex is a ludicrous one. “That’s not what this is. I won’t be home on Saturday night, and since you were so insistent on living together, I—”

I cut her off. “What do you mean, you won’t be there on Saturday night?”

“I’m flying to Paris as soon as the reception ends,” Scarlett replies. “For a work thing.”

“No, you’re not.” The dispute is automatic. It’s our wedding night, and she’s planning on flying to France? I probably shouldn’t be surprised, but I’m shocked.

“Yes, I am. Jacques Deux has a waiting list for years. I called in ten favors to get this meeting with him.”

“It’s our wedding night. People will talk.”

“I don’t care. Do you normally clear your schedule for the night after a merger closes?”

I exhale instead of saying something I’ll regret. “What is your meeting about?”

Based on the way Scarlett sighs—like the question is a major inconvenience—she was hoping I wouldn’t ask it. “Why?” she challenges.

I say nothing, just stare.

She sighs again. “I’m starting a clothing line. Jacques Deux has worked with every prominent designer in the last decade. His input, his ideas, they’ll make a big difference in the success of the brand.”

“This is why you changed the prenup,” I realize.

The earning potential for Haute is nothing compared to a clothing brand. Especially one created by Scarlett soon-to-be Kensington. Public interest in the both of us has skyrocketed since our engagement was announced. We’re a fairytale, minus the ugly stepsisters or the poor beginnings.

“If I hadn’t, this could be a conversation. But I did, and you signed, so it’s not. If I need to go to Paris for a meeting, I’ll go to Paris.”

“It’s only the timing I have issue with,” I tell her, quietly. I didn’t have expectations for our wedding night, but I definitely had hopes. Fantasies that required her to be in New York City, not the capital of France.

Her brow wrinkles for a minute before it smooths. “I can’t change the timing, Crew.”

“Fine.” I don’t even know why I’m bothering to argue.

“Fine,” she echoes. Glances away from me, looks back, and sighs. “I wrote my cell number down in there too. In case you have questions about the building.”

I could lie, but I don’t. “I have your number, Scarlett.”

She raises one eyebrow. “I didn’t give it to you.”

“I know. I got it a while ago. I thought about reaching out to you a few times. Thought it might…” I shake my head. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. Go wherever you want, Scarlett.”

“I will.”

She’s getting what she wants, yet she still sounds pissed. Rather than push, I nod toward the door. “That all?”

Her chin jerks up. “Yes. That’s all.” She spins and heads toward the glass doors that lead to the street.

“Great,” I mutter sarcastically as I follow. Based on the way her shoulders stiffen, she heard me.

Asher, Jeremy, and Oliver are all waiting out on the sidewalk.

“Leaving so soon, Scarlett?” Asher teases.

“I don’t usually loiter around apartment buildings,” she replies. “Where are you gentlemen headed to?”

“Crew’s bachelor party,” Asher replies. He spins his Best Man baseball cap around so she can see the front. “I know you lovebirds decided to limit the crowds up front, but I couldn’t resist.”

“Cute,” Scarlett comments.

I almost smile.

“You should come,” Asher suggests.

Scarlett clears her throat. “What?”

“Crew is way more fun to be around when you’re here.”

I shoot Asher a sharp glare for that comment. This isn’t a wide-eyed socialite he’s baiting. In two days, the woman beside me will be my wife. There’s a line, and he’s crossing it.

“Let’s go, Asher.”

He shrugs. “Sure. This will be a challenge for us anyway. Let alone a woman.”

I close my eyes and mentally call Asher every name I can think of. My best man just ensured my fiancée will be at my bachelor party.

The rock gym is crowded when we arrive. I’m surprised; the number of people here demonstrates a higher interest in the activity than I expected it to have.

This is exactly not what I thought my bachelor party might be like: climbing fake cliffs with my fiancée in tow.

Scarlett heads for the small store attached to the gym, probably to swap out the six-inch stilettos she’s wearing for shoes with a flat bottom. She says nothing to me before she leaves, keeping the void of silence that’s hovered between us intact. It stretched the whole drive here, interrupted by polite small talk, mostly between her and Jeremy. I think she’s lying about remembering him from the class they supposedly shared and I hope that means one of my closest friends doesn’t know more about my fiancée than I do.

“I can’t believe you,” I tell Asher, as he pulls out a pair of what are apparently rock-climbing shoes I’m sure he bought just for this occasion. “I told you I didn’t want to do anything. Then you plan this and invite her?”

Asher smirks as he tugs off his sneakers and yanks on the shoes that look like rubber socks. “One, this will be fun. I came with Charles Goldsmith last month and it was a blast. Two, you’re welcome. Your blushing bride will barely look at you, and it’s obviously bothering the shit out of you. You like her.”

I scoff. “What are you, ten? I don’t like her; I’m stuck with her. My father would permanently disown me if this marriage doesn’t happen. Doesn’t last. It has nothing to do with Scarlett. Although…” I glance at the display of climbing shoes visible through the glass wall separating the store from the gym itself, where Scarlett is talking to a sales associate. “It doesn’t seem like it would kill her to act like it’s less of an inconvenience.”

“What did you expect? You’ve said for years this is just business.”

“It is. And she’s making it harder than it needs to be by acting like this is personal, not professional.” Although I started it, I suppose. I’ve never wanted to kiss anyone more than I did in that library.

“Maybe she’s worried it is.”

I contemplate that for a few seconds. Then dismiss the possibility. “I think resigned would be a better adjective. She wants to live separately, for fuck’s sake.”

“But you aren’t. I had to shove twenty boxes aside to get into your place.”

“Not by choice. Hers or mine.” I emphasize the final word, because Asher seems to think I’m excited about this sham of a marriage. The only part I was looking forward to seems to be on a permanent hold. After our encounter in the library, I had my doubts about a traditional wedding night. Following the surprise trip to Paris she just sprung on me, I’m harboring no hope.

“You agreed to move into her place.”

“It was that or go another round with the lawyers. If she wants to stay in her penthouse so badly, I don’t really care. It’s probably just as nice.”

“It’s nicer, actually.” Scarlett’s voice sounds behind me. “There’s a private entrance for the penthouse, and I have my own doorman. I spent five minutes waiting to talk to one of yours before you popped up like some sort of Crew-in-a-box.”

I’m glad my back is to her. It makes it easier to hide my smile at her made-up phrase. When I do turn around, it’s to discover Scarlett has made her outfit as rock-climbing friendly as possible. Her long hair is pulled up in a ponytail, exposing the elegant column of her neck and the hollow of her throat. The pink heels are gone, replaced with a similar style to what Asher is wearing, and the sleeves of her white blouse have been rolled up.

“A whole five minutes?” I drawl. “What a devoted fiancée you’ve turned into, honey.”

The newfound devotion is expressed with an eye roll.

“Oh, there’s Dave!” Asher exclaims, sounding more excited than I’ve heard him sound about anything that didn’t involve women, booze, or cars. Apparently, he was serious when he said he’s come here before.

Dave approaches us, matching Asher’s enthusiasm. If I passed Dave on the street, I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised to learn he works as a rock-climbing instructor. His dreadlocks are pulled back by a purple bandana and he’s wearing an easygoing smile that would look wildly out of place in a boardroom. “Hey, dude!” Dave greets. “Back already?”

“Yep. Brought some buddies too. We’re celebrating this guy’s wedding.” Asher claps me on the back, and I force a smile I’m sure comes across as more of a grimace.

“No way.” Dave looks like the idea of having a bachelor party here has never occurred to him, and I wish Asher could say the same. “Congrats, man,” he says to me.

“Thanks, Dave.” Not many people have congratulated me about my upcoming wedding. They’ve acknowledged it. Nodded knowingly. Told me good work or well done. Every one of them has known why I’m marrying Scarlett. But I don’t know how to tell Dave I’m a multi-billionaire marrying for money, so I do my best to act genuinely enthused by the prospect. Made easier and harder by my fiancée’s presence a few feet away.

“I’ll go grab you guys some gear,” Dave says. “There’s…four of you?”

“Five,” Asher corrects, nodding toward the front desk where Oliver is standing, talking on the phone. He took a call as soon as we arrived and hasn’t moved since.

“All right. We usually start in pairs.” Dave glances around, then looks at me. “How about you wait for the straggler?” He smiles at Scarlett. “We can work together.”

I don’t wait to see if it’s an arrangement Scarlett will protest. “No. She and I will work together.”

Dave raises his hands in an all good gesture. “Sorry, man. I get the overprotective brother thing. I’m the same way with my sister.”

Asher snorts a laugh. Jeremy starts coughing. If I looked over at Scarlett, I’m guessing she’s wearing the same expression of horror I am.

Dave looks between me and Scarlett, his dreadlocks bobbing with each confused movement. “Oh. Are you two not siblings?”

“No,” I grit out. “She’s my fiancée.”

“I just assumed…” he trails. “Never heard of a fiancée attending a bachelor party before.”

“We like to do things together.” How I manage to say that sentence with a straight face, I have no idea. I’m equally impressed no one laughs.

But Dave nods, looking completely serious. “I get it. My folks are the same way. They each get one activity to indulge the other one on, since they hate doing things separately. My mom hates football and hasn’t missed a Giants game in twenty years. My father couldn’t draw a stick figure but goes to an oil painting class with her every week.” Dave pauses and smiles. “I bet you guys will be just as happy. Whose activity is this?” His eyes bounce between us again.

“Uh…” I’m slow to speak after that. I’ve never witnessed that sort of relationship in person. I know my father loved my mother. She may have been the only person he’s ever loved. When it comes to me and Oliver, he hands out occasional praise, not affection. However he expressed any sentimentality toward my mother, I was too young to remember any of it.

“Crew.” Scarlett clears her throat. “This was Crew’s idea.”

“Excellent choice, man.” Dave smiles at me before his attention returns to Scarlett. “And what are you going to pick?”

“Uh…” she stalls. For the first time ever, I see Scarlett look unsure. Rather than revel in it, I scramble to come up with some random hobby I can blurt out. Golf?

“It can be anything,” Dave urges. “Anything you’ve always wanted to try?”

“We doing this or not?” Oliver appears, phone in hand. “If not, I’m heading back to the office.”

“You can think it over some more,” Dave tells Scarlett, then turns to the rest of us. “I’ll meet you all by the wall over there.” He points vaguely toward the right before heading to the left. We’re surrounded by nothing but walls. Not just the four typical ones, but lots of additional ones covered with colorful, fake rocks meant as continual handholds.

“Do we think he’s qualified to teach people how to scale cliffs?” Jeremy questions.

“Dave’s great,” Asher replies. “Super chill.”

“That’s exactly what I’m worried about,” Jeremy replies. “Super chill isn’t the first qualification I’d consider in an instructor.”

I ignore their bickering and ask Oliver, “What was the call about?”

My brother grimaces. “Powers wants to come back to the table without the marketing division.”

“He’s folding?”

Oliver nods. “He held out for longer than I expected him to.”

“Me too,” I agree.

Dave reappears with ropes and harnesses for a short tutorial on what we’re supposed to do in order to leave the ground. Despite Jeremy’s misgivings, Dave seems knowledgeable. I’m more concerned with the woman beside me than Dave’s laid-back personality. If anything, his ease is a welcome addition to the group. Scarlett seems to be growing tenser by the second.

Once the demonstration ends, we’re sent off to a corner of the gym. Asher immediately starts climbing while Jeremy spots him. Oliver is further down, talking with Dave. Probably trying to get out of doing this.

Scarlett clips on her harness and stares up at the rock face that extends fifty feet up in the air. I stare at her. She looks over suddenly, catching me studying her profile.

“Well?” I prompt.

“Well what?”

“Well, are you going to climb the damn thing or not?” I drawl.

“Give me a minute,” she snaps.

“For what? The wall is right in front of you. Just grab a handle and get started. It’s easy.”

“I never said it was hard!”

“Then why aren’t you climbing?”

“I’m…preparing.”

I scoff. “Preparing for what?”

“Preparing to put my life in your less than capable hands. I’m not exactly overflowing with confidence in your ability to catch me.”

“You’re wearing a harness attached to a rope above a foam mat. Of course I’m not going to catch you. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“With charm like that, it’s shocking anyone tells you no,” she retorts. Her words are sharp and her stance is confrontational. But there’s something hovering beneath the annoyance, obvious in the way she won’t meet my gaze and is fiddling with the strap of the harness.

“Tell me what’s really wrong,” I demand.

“I told you, I’m—”

“Scarlett.”

Her teeth sink into the full, bright red of her lower lip. I’ve avoided looking at her mouth. The last time I paid it too close attention, I almost kissed her. I’m about to say her name again when she answers. “I’m apprehensive about being too high off the ground.”

The meaning sinks in slowly. “You’re scared of heights,” I realize, then laugh. “Are you kidding me?”

“That is not what I said,” Scarlett replies hotly. “I just—”

“Six one way, half-dozen the other,” I respond. “Say it however you want, that’s what you meant.”

She considers that. “Fine. Heights aren’t my favorite.”

I laugh again. “Unbelievable. You’re really that stubborn? You came to a climbing gym and you’re scared of heights?”

“One, you’re not Mr. Easy Going yourself. Two, I didn’t know we were going to a rock-climbing gym. Your misogynistic friend didn’t specify when he invited me.”

“Asher is far from a misogynist. He loves women.”

Scarlett rolls her eyes. “Loving women and respecting women are two different things.”

I feel a sudden urge to defend Asher, despite the fact he’s the reason I’m standing here arguing with her. “He respects women too.”

“Do you?”

I stiffen and glare. “What the fuck kind of question is that? You’re marrying me, and you don’t think I respect women?”

“I didn’t say that you don’t, I asked if you do.”

“You’ve got a creative way of saying everything, huh?”

Her chin rises as she glowers right back at me. “You want to know why I came here, Crew? To prove myself. Because I always have to prove myself. When you show up at Kensington Consolidated, people don’t assume you’re there to meet your dad for lunch. They don’t think they know more than you do about the company that is your family’s legacy. They don’t wonder about who you’ll marry because they assume that person will have a say in their job one day. We may be similar in some ways, but we are not the same.”

She unclips the belt and steps out of the harness. I was annoyed she came. Now I’m irritated she appears to be leaving. “What are you doing?”

“Everything okay over here?” Dave appears, his calm face showing only the slightest hint of concern. In his world, things probably go according to plan. He probably doesn’t even have a plan.

“Fine.” Scarlett gives him a small, tight smile that anyone with eyes could see is fake. “Unfortunately, I have to go.” She doesn’t even make up an excuse. “Thanks for your help, Dave.”

“Scarlett…” I start.

She walks away without a word, brunette ponytail swishing. Mocking me with each step. Scarlett only pauses to change back into her heels. Then she’s gone, cutting through the crowded street and out of sight.

I’m beginning to wonder if I’ll ever watch her leave without a mixture of anger and regret.

For my sanity’s sake, I sure hope so.