The Hating Season (Seasons #2) - K.A.Linde Page 0,15

scandalous lives of the people he photographed.

“I told you earlier, no comment,” English said.

“He already bothered you?” I asked. For some reason, that made all my anger boil over.

I stepped forward, getting right in the guy’s face. “You need to stop harassing her.”

“What is this, the new boyfriend?” the guy asked her.

“She’s going through enough without you hounding her, you piece of shit!”

“Court,” English muttered. She pushed me away from the photographer. “God, I’m sorry about that. Ignore him. He’s just a client. You do know that I’m a publicist, right? This is what we deal with.”

“Sure, sure,” he said, sounding disbelieving.

“Could you just delete the photograph you took? It’s not what it seems. I can get you an exclusive or probably a favor with Poise PR.”

She dug in her bag and removed a business card. The man swiped the card, stuffing it in his pocket without looking at it.

“I’d take an exclusive. With you or Josh.”

She sighed. “Not happening. I can get you something else. Or owe you a favor.”

He shrugged. “Fine. I’ll call you, and we’ll set something up.”

“Sounds good. Thanks. What’s your name?”

“Jeremiah,” he said, shaking her hand.

“Nice to meet you, Jeremiah. I’m English. I hope to work with you more regularly in the future. You can discontinue stalking me for more valuable prey.”

He laughed and nodded. “Have a good night.”

English grabbed another cab since ours had sped off and shoved me inside. She whipped around on me as soon as the door closed. “What the hell were you thinking? Do you want to add assault to your rap sheet?”

“How was I to know that you wanted to befriend the dick who was harassing you?”

She sighed and pressed on her temples. “He was just doing his job. I don’t like his job, but then again, most people don’t like my job either.”

“In that, we’re in agreement,” I grumbled.

She just ignored my comment and pulled her phone back out.

I’d about fucking had it with Anna English. Something was going to have to give, or we weren’t going to survive each other.

6

English

“I cannot believe that you’re following me up,” Court said.

“Well, I don’t trust that you’ll stay put.”

“What are you going to do, spend the night to make sure I don’t leave?”

I shoved my phone back into my purse and ignored him. Like I’d been ignoring the dozens of texts that I’d gotten from Josh ever since I hung up on him. He clearly didn’t think that I was going to divorce him. And I had every intention of doing so.

The elevator dinged open into his apartment. I thought I’d feel relief that I’d gotten Court back to his house where he couldn’t accidentally fuck up the entire election, but no such luck. It was clear that he had no clue how closely his actions were still being watched. It wasn’t the media circus that it had been right after he was arrested, but people were waiting for him to fuck up again. The opposition was desperate for a reason to come down hard on his mom. Any reason.

Court strode into the living room, and I followed him inside. He held his arms aloft. “See? I made it. Just like a good boy.”

“Why do you insist on acting like this?” I demanded.

“Maybe because you’re ruining my life.”

I snorted. “What life? All you do is fuck around like an idiot.”

He narrowed his eyes, and his nostrils flared. “Just because I don’t work a hundred-hour weeks like you or Camden or Lark doesn’t mean that I have no life.”

“If you say so.”

“I want to fire you.”

I shouldn’t laugh at that, but I did. I couldn’t stop it from exploding out of me. But all it did was piss him off more. And maybe I wanted that. I wanted someone else to be as mad as I was. Ready to throw down.

“You think that’s funny?” he demanded. “I’m going to go to my mother tomorrow and tell her you’re not fit for the job.”

I took a step toward him. “Do it. See what she says.”

Something sparked in those impossibly blue eyes. “I’ll tell her that you’re not subjective after what Josh did.”

“Fine,” I said, taking another step. “How do you think that will go for you? Do you think she’ll fire me, or do you think she’ll call you a petulant child who can’t deal with his own problems?”

Court bridged that last bit of distance. He looked like he was ready to put his fist through a wall. It was hot as