The Lying Season (Seasons #1) - K.A. Linde Page 0,23

she was making me laugh instead of letting me be miserable. It would be easy to do after the past week of hell. I grumbled the whole time, but I did eventually get up, change, and fix my hair.

When Katherine texted me to say she was here, I headed downstairs. I rolled my eyes when I saw the vehicle outside of my building. A limousine. Christ, she was as bad as my mother.

“Miss St. Vincent,” the driver said, opening the door for me.

“Thank you.”

I slid into the backseat next to Katherine, who was dressed in stylish denim with a fitted white cotton tee and nude high heels. Her dark hair was parted down the middle, glossy and straight. She looked every bit like a model who was about to head to a photo shoot—put together and effortlessly stunning.

“The limo, Ren?” I asked, switching to the nickname Penn had given her at prep school.

She shrugged one shoulder as we pulled away. “It’s the Percy limo. Why not use all the benefits of this marriage?”

“I suppose.”

Though…my own mother had offered me the family limo, and I’d declined. But Katherine and I were far from the same people. She could live her life however she wanted. No matter how many times I tried to save her from herself, she was going to do whatever she wanted.

“It’s nice to see you out of business suits,” Katherine said.

I’d opted for an athleisure look with Lululemon leggings, a tank, and Nikes. My hair was in a sleek ponytail, as managed as I could get the curls in twenty minutes. It wasn’t as fancy as Katherine, but I never was.

“Where are we going anyway?”

“Bergdorf, of course.”

I shook my head. “I should have guessed.”

“Probably.”

“You know my mother bought half of Barneys and left it in my apartment last week. I really don’t need anything.”

Katherine arched an eyebrow. “Define need.”

Which was how we ended up in the dressing room of Bergdorf Goodman with a personal shopper or two bringing us a dozen or more outfits to try on. None of which seemed practical for my job. But it was fun to actually have a day to relax and hang out with my friend.

“So, melodrama,” Katherine said. She turned in place in a pink sundress that looked like something she’d wear to a polo match. “What’s going on? You met Sam’s girlfriend? How?”

I explained the awkward situation that I’d found myself in the night before. Hearing it from my own lips made it sound extra ridiculous. “Anyway, it was really awkward.”

“It sounds like you should have taken charge,” Katherine said with her hands on her hips. “Why are you letting anyone push you around? Don’t you know who you are?”

“Being a St. Vincent doesn’t actually matter for everything.”

“Doesn’t it?” she asked. “I swear, you used to know that.”

“I don’t want that life.”

“God, sometimes, you sound just like Penn,” Katherine moaned. “Why don’t you want that life? What is so wrong with being the sole heir to a billion-dollar enterprise? How is your life hard when both of your parents are dying for you to take over and make them even more money? Do you know how many people would kill for that? What kind of power that commands?”

“Nothing is wrong with it. But my entire life was spent doing exactly what my parents wanted. There was never a question of what I wanted.”

“I don’t understand you. You used to want this.”

“No, I didn’t,” I told her vehemently. “That’s the thing. I never wanted it. I just did it because that was what was expected from me. From all of us. And even if I was interested in running a business instead of a campaign, I don’t want to become the person I had to be to survive living a hundred percent in the Upper East Side. You know my parents don’t sleep in the same room. They haven’t since I was a kid. All that matters is money. And I didn’t like who I was when that was my life, so I gave it up. I know I’ll always be a St. Vincent. I can’t escape my name. I just want people to accept both sides of me.”

“You’re insane,” I said as I changed into my next outfit.

“But effective. Now, can we move past Sam?” Katherine asked.

I stepped back out of the dressing room in cigarette pants and a skintight blue bodysuit. I put my hands on my hips.

“I’ll admit, he’s good-looking. But he’s not worth your time. He’s just