The Lying Season (Seasons #1) - K.A. Linde Page 0,72

of them the preppy suit coat he was wearing today. That was before my parents had hired him to work for St. Vincent’s Enterprise. Now, he only wore fancy suits with tie clips and shiny shoes. He’d ditched the easygoing guy I’d met and fallen for and dived headfirst into upper management.

But he’d probably always had that snake of a smile and sinister widow’s peak. The calculating smile and fake interest. I just hadn’t looked for it. Hadn’t wanted to.

“I didn’t think you could ever get time off work for these sorts of things,” he said casually. As if it wasn’t a pointed remark about how I hadn’t had time for him.

I just shrugged. No use in feeding the beast. “I normally can’t.”

“Honey, are you going to introduce me?” the girl said. She leaned her head against his shoulder and fluttered her long eyelashes up at him.

“Sure. Felicity, this is Larkin St. Vincent.”

“Oh,” she said with wide eyes. “Your mother is a genius. I love her signature Larkin bag.” She gasped. “Wait…is that…you?”

“Yes,” I said with an inward cringe. “That’s me.”

“Brilliant. Do you work for the company too?”

“No,” I said at once.

“Too?” Sam asked, finally interjecting.

Thomas looked him up and down and then dismissed him. “Yes, I work for St. Vincent’s.”

Sam met my gaze as if he had just figured out a piece of the puzzle. He slipped an arm around me. Thomas finally picked up on it.

“And who are you?”

“Sam,” he said, holding his hand out. “Lark’s boyfriend.”

Thomas shook his hand. “And what do you do?”

“Legal counsel for the Kensington campaign.”

“Ah…so you two work together,” Thomas said.

My stomach dropped. I hadn’t thought about that fact. Our friends knew and didn’t care. I didn’t know what Thomas would do with the information.

I was saved from answering by Court, Camden, and Gavin appearing as if out of thin air. Thomas immediately straightened. He could talk to me like shit. But Camden was his idol. I’d heard him lament it many a days once upon a time. And Court and Gavin had enough sway in the Upper East Side that he’d want to kiss their asses.

“Thomas,” Court said, shaking his hand in greeting. “I don’t remember inviting you.”

Thomas flushed slightly but sidestepped easily. “I was in the area.”

So, he hadn’t even been invited. He’d just fucking shown up and crashed the place. Douche. Opportunistic, social-climbing douche.

Camden held out his hand next. “Saw you on the course today. How did you end up?”

Thomas looked like he’d swallowed a golf ball as he shook Gavin’s hand next. He was no golfer. I knew that much.

“Par for the course,” he lied through his teeth.

Gavin laughed. “Better than me. I sure didn’t hit par. I fucking hate golf, but it’s a gentleman’s sport.”

“Which is why you’re so terrible at it,” Camden quipped.

“I never claimed to be a gentleman. I don’t have to pretend to be anyone I’m not.” Gavin shrugged with that big grin on his face. Enjoying himself as they slowly crushed Thomas under their collective boot.

Thomas cleared his throat. “I heard that you all have a poker game going in the city.”

Camden’s attention focused on that comment. “And where exactly did you hear that?”

“Around,” Thomas said vaguely. “I was just mentioning because I have a game myself. It’s going to be a full night of gambling and drinking and debauchery.” He painted the picture for them. “If it sounds like your kind of event, I could get invites out to you. Very exclusive, of course.”

“What do you think, Sam?” Camden asked pointedly. “Think you’re ready to get your ass kicked in poker again at Thomas’s event?”

I held back my snicker.

Sam just shrugged sheepishly, perfectly playing the role. “I suppose. If I get an invite.”

That had not been part of Thomas’s plan. A look of irritation flashed across his face. “Of course. Any friend of Camden Percy is a friend of mine.”

“Then it’s settled. Send the invites to me,” Camden insisted. “We’ll be there.”

Thomas smiled brightly, hearing the dismissal in Camden’s voice. “I look forward to it.”

He took Felicity by the arm and hastily drew her across the room, away from the lot of us.

I was glad that I was watching Camden’s face as Thomas disappeared. Or I wouldn’t have seen the flash of rage settle across his features.

“I really hate that guy,” he growled before returning to his cool Upper East Side mask of neutrality and boredom.

The end of the confrontation left me in jitters. Seeing Thomas always did this. No matter how much