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

headed for the door.

He was on his feet again, following me out of the trailer. “English, please, stop. We can talk about this. We can figure it out. You know that I’d do anything for you.”

“Leave me alone. I’ve heard enough.”

I was trying to hold the tears at bay. I was furious, and I wanted to die inside. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I couldn’t believe that my life was falling into shambles right now. I’d had the perfect husband, the perfect relationship, the perfect life. And now, it was gone.

“Where are you going?” he asked frantically.

“Home. Back to New York.”

“You can’t just jump on a plane. That won’t fix this.”

I glared at him as I flagged down a cab. “Nothing will to fix this. Go back to your movie, your fuckable costar, and all the money you’re going to get from this film. I hope that it makes you happy, Josh.” I laughed sardonically. “Actually… I don’t.”

The cab pulled up in front of me, and I ripped the door open.

Josh grabbed the door from me. “Don’t do this.”

“I didn’t do anything. You made this decision for us.”

Then, I slammed the door in his face, and the cab pulled away from the movie set. I didn’t cry until I was back in our hotel suite. Tears streamed down my cheeks and my chin as I packed up the suitcase I’d flown in with. I didn’t want to still be here when Josh got back tonight. I wasn’t going to stay in London another minute for him to try to win me back. There was no winning here. He’d ruined it all.

My face was red and puffy, but the tears dried up by the time I arrived at Heathrow. At the ticket counter, I slid over Josh’s black card and asked for the earliest first-class ticket to New York City. Two hours later, the flight was boarding, and I took my seat in the pod.

“Something to drink?”

“Gin and tonic,” I told the woman. “And keep them coming.”

She nodded and returned with two drinks for me with a wink. I downed the first without blinking and savored the second one as we started to taxi the runway. My phone buzzed in my purse, and I fished it out. A dozen missed calls from Josh. Fuck that. And one from my best friend, Lark.

I should probably call her back.

“Ma’am, you’re going to need to put your phone on Airplane mode,” the flight attendant told me with a smile.

I sighed and powered the entire thing down. Lark and New York would have to wait until I made it back to the States. Right now, I just needed another drink and to sleep off the heartbreak.

Part I

Rules To Live By

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 bloodstream 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 jet lag. 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 impatiently tapped my foot as it whisked me upstairs, opening directly into his apartment. I’d been impressed the first time I 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 floor.

No response came from the confines of his apartment.

I should have known. The man drank like a fish and partied like a rock star. 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