Real Regrets (Kensingtons Book 2)

New York appears as sleepy as I feel, the streets nearly empty this early on a Sunday. Even amidst the skyscrapers that house the most profitable businesses in the country. In the world.

I cover a yawn as I step outside of the car, buttoning my coat against the morning chill. Walk past the manicured hedges and the trickling fountain, wondering what I’m headed toward.

The security guard nods his head as I approach, appearing unsurprised by my appearance.

I swipe my badge and head for the elevators, scanning it again before I press the button for the executive floor. My head pounds for multiple reasons, as it ascends toward the top of the building.

Once the elevator doors open, I head toward my father’s office, passing the familiar rows of empty, dark offices.

Crew is already waiting outside. I take a moment to appreciate the show of solidarity, nodding to him as I walk past and open the door to enter the largest office on this floor.

My father is seated behind his massive desk, scowling like he’s the one being inconvenienced by this last minute, early morning meeting that he requested. The sun rises behind him, casting diluted light over the leather furnishings that match every office on this floor. His glower deepens when he catches sight of my outfit. Both my father and Crew are in suits. I’m wearing a sweatshirt and joggers.

“What the hell are you wearing, Oliver?”

“Clothes.”

“You expect anyone to take you seriously when you dress like you’ve just left the gym?”

“Did you call me here to lecture me on what I wear into the office on a Sunday, Dad?”

My father’s expression barely reacts, but I can tell he’s taken off guard by my tone. I’ve spent years as his yes man, never challenging a single decision. I’m done.

“No. I want you to explain to me what the fuck happened last night. We lost Zantech, and I want to know why. How?”

“You’re overreacting, Dad,” Crew says from his spot in the corner. His tone is bored but his posture is tense.

As much as I appreciate his support, I wish he’d keep his mouth shut. There’s nothing our father likes less than us presenting a united front.

Predictably, he disagrees with Crew’s assessment of the situation. Red creeps up his neck beneath the collar of his blue button down. “Overreacting? You know exactly what that contract was worth, Crew. Gone, now. Covington won’t let that deal slip away.”

“Somehow, I think we’ll manage to keep the lights on without it,” Crew drawls.

“This is no joking matter, Crew. If your brother hadn’t just managed to fuck up a hundred-million-dollar contract, I’d be tempted to reconsider you as my successor.”

My molars grind as I forcibly tamp down any reaction.

Arthur Kensington is a master at emotional manipulation.

If I’d left the reception last night and locked down this deal, I’d have been shocked to receive a good job, much less a promotion.

But losing it? Of course, Kensington Consolidated is on the brink of financial ruin and I’m inept.

Only my mistakes are acknowledged.

“They called you?” I ask.

My father’s sharp gaze shifts back to me. My phone begins buzzing in my pocket, but I ignore it.

“Emailed. They only talk on the phone with companies they do business with, apparently.”

“I spoke to them on the phone yesterday morning, and he mentioned nothing about a later conversation. Or a pending decision. They’ve had weeks to agree to terms. And he suddenly decides to commit immediately, or he’ll go elsewhere?”

“Your job was to get him to sign, Oliver! Whenever he decided to! A fucking intern could have handled it.”

“Maybe you should have assigned one, then, instead of expecting me to handle the jobs of three employees.”

My father’s stare grows harder. Colder. I feel like a kid again, kicking myself for not doing better. For forgetting a chore or getting one B instead of straight A’s.

But I’m an adult now, who realizes my father’s standards are impossible to meet. That I need to stop trying to before I go insane.

“Offer is off the table, Oliver. You won’t be the next CEO of Kensington Consolidated. You’re obviously not willing to do what it takes.”

He’s expecting me to argue. React. I don’t give him the satisfaction of either. I just nod. All I want to do is get out of here and back to my penthouse before Hannah has to leave.

“If you want this company to continue being run by a Kensington, he will be.”

My father and I both look at Crew, who abandons his spot in the corner to walk over to the desk, pulling a piece of paper out of the inside pocket of his jacket and dropping it down on the varnished wood.

“For you, Dad.”

His forehead wrinkles as he picks it up.

“My resignation letter,” Crew adds.

“What?”

The twin exclamation is one of a few instances when my father and I have been on the same page at the same second. We both sound…stunned.

“This is my official notice.”

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Crew?” our father spits. “You’re turning your back on your family?”

Crew meets his gaze, calm and unaffected. “I’m choosing my family. The woman I love. Our kids. Lili is getting older. I’ll have a second child soon. You might have been fine letting nannies raise me and Oliver, but I’m not interested in replicating that childhood. I’m going to know my kids, Dad. So call a headhunter and tell them you need a future CEO picked out. Or give it to the son who was always meant to have it. I’m done. If you want to be my father, that’s fine. But I’m done with you being my boss.”

Crew turns and walks out without another word, and it’s the one and only time I’ve seen my father truly speechless.

For all his posturing and manipulation, I’m positive he believed neither of us would ever walk away.

Crew just called his bluff.

There’s nothing else for me to say, so I follow Crew out, leaving my father to stare at the repercussions of his choices.

The hallway is empty. I walk until I reach Crew’s office, knocking once on the door.

“Come in.”

I open it to find Crew standing with his hands in his pockets, staring out at the rising sun.

“That was a hell of an exit.”

Crew turns. He attempts a grin, but it falls flat. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you first. I found out everything was finalized yesterday, and I hadn’t decided how to go about it.”

“Where are you going?”

“Royce Raymond made me an offer at my wedding. Said he wanted to hand his production company over to someone with decent business sense and some shred of integrity. I reached out to him after Scarlett told me about the pregnancy. It’s better hours, more flexibility. The chance to be part of something that wasn’t handed to me.”

“You’re partnering with him?”

Crew shakes his head. “Full ownership. Scarlett is already house hunting in Los Angeles. We’ll split time, but I want to be out there at first. She was already working on remote plans for once she’s farther along in her pregnancy.”

“I—wow.”

My father wasn’t the only one who thought Crew would never leave this company. None of the reasons I’ve ever considered doing so apply to him. I’m proud of him for putting his family first and stepping into something new. But despite the strife it’s caused, I’ll miss having him here.

Default isn’t how I wanted to inherit this company.

“You deserve to be CEO, Oliver. You know it. I know it. Dad knows it. But if you chose to walk away too, I wouldn’t blame you.”

“I don’t want to walk away.”

He nods. “I mean it, Oliver. You deserve it.”

I shove my hands into the pockets of my pants before walking deeper into his office, looking out the windows. The sun is higher in the sky, casting brilliant light over the city.

“She lives in Los Angeles.”

Crew turns to take in the same view, standing shoulder to shoulder with me.

“You could try working remotely.”

“I basically live in this office. All the meetings and presentations and Alicia… I could do my job, but I couldn’t do it as well.”

“What about her job?”

I swallow. “I don’t know.”

Except, I do. Los Angeles School of Design doesn’t have a New York campus.

“Ask her. See what she says.” He makes it sound easy, and it’s anything but.

It took me half an hour to undo all the buttons on Hannah’s dress last night. Then we both collapsed into bed, too exhausted to talk. I didn’t bring up anything that happened in the limo, and she didn’t either. And I’m worried it means she does regret our marriage.

“I married her.”

Crew makes a shocked, strangled sound. “What?”

“When I was in Vegas for Garrett’s bachelor party. I met her in the hotel bar, asked her to meet me later, and woke up next to a marriage license.”

“Holy shit.”

I laugh. “Pretty much.”

“Then what?”

“We’re getting divorced. Papers were filed on Monday.”

“Why?”

I glance over at him. “Because we didn’t mean to get married.”

“But you’re in love with her.”

I look away, quickly. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Have you told her?”

Silence answers for me.

“Tell her, Oliver.”

“I’m just like him,” I say.

“No, you’re not. You’re good at your job, and that’s where the similarities end.”

“I picked her over my job last night, and I’m pissed at myself about it. I did fuck up the Zantech deal. This job is who I am, and I can’t expect her to accept that. No one else has.”

“Why’d you stay last night?” Crew asks.

“I…wanted to.”

He smiles. “I think you’re less hopeless than you think.”

“Thanks.”

He holds out a hand. “Good luck.”

I shock us both by pulling him into a hug. “I’m proud of you,” I tell Crew after we step apart. “For standing up to Dad. Doing your own thing. Lili and baby number two are lucky to have you as a father.”

Crew nods and looks down, the angles of his face harsh with emotion. For the first time, I realize my opinion might matter to him. It hasn’t felt like he looked up to me for anything since we were little kids.

“I’ll see you later,” I tell him, then leave his office and head for the elevators.

My foot taps impatiently as I wait for one to arrive and again, as it descends at what feels like an impossibly slow pace.

Crew’s right, I decide, watching the numbers slowly tick down. I don’t want Hannah to leave without knowing exactly where I stand. The alternative is losing her for certain, and I know I’ll regret that.

Once I’m back in the car driving toward my building, I pull my phone out of my pocket. And my stomach sinks when I see I have a missed call and a voicemail from Hannah.

Heart in my throat, I tap on her name and lift the phone to my ear.

“Hi. I’m sorry to do this over the phone, but I wanted to say goodbye. I—my sister called, and April went into labor. There are complications with the delivery. I don’t know all the details. But the airline was able to switch me to an earlier flight, so I’m on my way to the airport now. I woke up, and you were gone, so I just…. I hope everything is all right. And if you just needed space, well, I get that. Thanks for…thanks. I’ll sign whatever you send me. So…goodbye, Oliver.”

Dammit, I think.

And then I dial the number for Kensington Consolidated’s private pilot.