The Lying Season (Seasons #1) - K.A. Linde Page 0,102
been happier than in this moment. And I had to admit that finding out I was going to run a presidential campaign had felt amazing. But this moment, here, with Sam, felt even better.
A dream job, an engagement, and burgers, all in one day.
What more could one girl ask for?
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THE HATING SEASON
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Court Kensington was a thorn in my side.
I was one of the top celebrity publicists in the world. Dealing with the mayor’s son after he got arrested should have been a piece of cake. And then on to bigger and better things as I used the promotion to rise to the next level in my career. Until my world falls apart, and Court is at the center of it all.
Kensington charm shouldn’t work on me. Not when I’ve sworn to never ever sleep with a client.
I had good intentions. I really did. But we all know the road to hell is paved with good intentions.
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The Hating Season
Chapter 1 — English
It had only taken forty-eight hours for my entire life to go to shit.
A trip across the pond, my cheating bastard of a husband, and a near-arrest by my current pain in the ass client. I hadn’t slept. I’d barely eaten. The only thing in my blood stream other than coffee as black as my heart was bitter righteous rage.
And I needed somewhere to direct it.
I probably should have gotten something to eat and slept off my jetlag. Instead, I jammed my finger into the button for the elevator that would take me up to Court Kensington’s penthouse. Because he had royally fucked up, and I wanted to give him a piece of my mind.
The door slid open soundlessly. I slipped inside and tapped my foot impatiently as it whisked me upstairs, opening directly into his apartment. I’d been impressed the first time I’d walked into his place. All clean modern lines, open airy floor plan, and Central Park views. I was used to Hollywood, and this was so New York. But I was over it now.
Everything about it just reminded me that Court Kensington had grown up with a silver spoon in his mouth. He might be the hottest, most eligible bachelor on the Upper East Side, but to me, he was just another client for me to clean up his messes.
“Court!” I snapped as my heels clicked onto the polished hardwood floors.
No response came from the confines of his apartment.
I should have known. The man drank like a fish and partied like a rockstar. There was no way he would be awake at this early of an hour.
It wasn’t stopping me. Not today.
“Court!” I called again.
I strode across the living room and down a hallway that led to his bedroom. The door stood already partially open. I toed it the rest of the way and breezed inside, flicking the lights on.
And what I saw stopped me in my tracks.
Court Kensington’s naked body laid out face down like Adonis on his pure white sheets. His bare ass visible for the world to see.
I swallowed.
I’d seen some gorgeous bodies before. I worked as a celebrity publicist for Christ’s sake. It was part of the job description. We dealt with asshole rockstars, entitled actors, and everything in between. I’d paid off prostitutes and thrown away condoms so they couldn’t be used as evidence and seen more dick and pussy that I wasn’t fucking than I needed to see in a lifetime. And still, Court made me come to a screeching halt.
Fuck, he was hot.
I hated that he was hot.
That he was the kind of grade-A asshole I’d been all over before I’d met Josh. Before Josh…
I ground my teeth. Just the thought of what he’d done to me brought me straight back to reality. Nothing like finding out your movie star husband was fucking his co-star to ruin your morning.
“Court, get your ass out of bed.”
He tilted his head to the side, squinting up at me through a vision of long lashes. “English?” he groaned.
“That’d be me,” I said. “We need to talk.”
He blinked a few times and then propped himself up on his elbow. “What time is it?”