The Lying Season (Seasons #1) - K.A. Linde Page 0,38

That’s not how my business relationships work. I am hired to fix problems. You are a problem. So, we’ll spend the next couple months trying to fix you.”

“That’s not exactly what I had in mind,” he said, sipping on his martini.

“Court,” I groaned. “It’s not a romantic relationship. It’s business.”

He waved his hand at me. “Sure thing. You know all about keeping business and personal separate.”

His eyes met mine with a gleam that said he knew exactly what was going on with me and Sam. My cheeks flushed. God, I was not letting a Kensington get under my skin.

But before I could respond, English stepped forward. “Look, this is how it is. You need me,” she told him—straightforward, no bullshit. “You need me more than you even know. Because right now, I’m staring at a husk of a man. One who was brought to his knees by a liar and a fraud. And I don’t know if you knew what she did or not. I’m not here for answers. I’m not here to babysit you. I’m here to make people believe that you’ve turned over a new leaf, that you want to repent for your actions, and make you the fucking golden boy of the Upper East Side.”

Court snorted. “Good luck with that.”

She took another step toward him. She looked fierce as hell. “That is what I’m good at. And it’s what I’m going to do for you. You’re going to stop trying to think we’ll sleep together because that is never, ever going to happen. You’re a client. That’s it.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “You have two options: you can put your drink down and listen to how I’m going to turn your life around, or you can stay in this apartment until you drink yourself to death. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve seen it.”

She crossed her arms and waited.

“Maybe I’d like the latter,” he said. But something had shaken loose. He didn’t have the same rich-boy confidence when he spoke.

“No, you wouldn’t.”

“Don’t you think this is all just going to blow over anyway?”

English held her hands out. “That’s what I do for a living. I make these things blow over. I make them go away before they even hit the press. And you’re going to need someone to do that. Because the arrest might disappear after a week or two. The charges might not have ever been filed against you. But what about when Jane goes to trial?”

He winced at those words.

“What about when her face is in every newspaper in the country for fraud? What if they publish a book about her? What if they make her crimes into a blockbuster movie? You think you’re just going to disappear through all of that? Especially if you’re still the bad-boy prince, drunk and high and fucking anyone who will sell your pictures or sex tapes to the tabloids?”

Court frowned. Even I frowned. I hadn’t thought that far ahead. My life was to think about the campaign and how this would affect us through November. English was thinking long-term. Past the election. To how all of this would go down in the press. And it looked bloody from my perspective.

“Do you want to be the sympathetic ex or the accomplice?” English asked. “Because how we react and shape the narrative determines how Hollywood portrays you years down the road.”

“Fine,” Court spat. “Whatever.”

“Good,” English said with a satisfied grin. “I thought so. We’ll start in the morning.”

Court laughed and downed his drink. “I don’t wake up before noon.”

English seemed undeterred. “Noon it is. Most creatives I work with aren’t morning people anyway. Plus, I’m still on West Coast time.”

“Are we finished?” Court asked. “I’d like to go back to getting shit-faced. Thanks.”

I frowned at him. He was such a mess. Jane’s betrayal had really fucked him up. I knew that English would help. That she was the best at this and she’d get him back on track. But right now, I actually…pitied him. I wished there were more that I could do. But I could see that he just wanted us to leave.

“Thanks for hearing us out,” I said.

Court waved me off, and I followed English to the elevator. We were silent as we headed back to the ground floor. I could see that the wheels were working in English’s head. That she wanted to get back to the apartment right away, so she could get started with all of her ideas. I just wanted to give Court a