The Hating Season (Seasons #2) - K.A.Linde Page 0,30

another couple who yelled at me. But my need was great. I called Court and texted and called again. He never answered. I knew he was out with Gavin for their weekly lunch, which mostly consisted of drinking. But he should have his phone on him. The last thing I wanted was for someone to ask him about Jane without him knowing about it, without me talking with him first.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I murmured. I leaned forward. “Can we go any faster? I can pay.”

The woman shrugged and turned down the next alley. Soon, we were zipping through the streets. She drove like a maniac, but right now, that was what I needed. I felt frantic. It was the worst time of day for me to be in Greenwich Village when I needed to be in Midtown.

It was an interminable amount of time before the cab screeched to a halt in front of the St. Regis. Thankfully, Court had a routine, and he lunched here every Wednesday. King Cole Bar was a staple for the business types. Dorset & King, the oil company Gavin ran in the city, had their New York headquarters nearby. Occasionally, they went to The Mark or Casa Lever, but I remembered Court had said something about St. Regis, and I was betting on it since he hadn’t fucking returned my call.

I walked through the lobby and straight into the restaurant and bar, bypassing the receptionist, who looked put out.

“Excuse me, miss. Can I help you? Do you have a reservation? Are you meeting someone?” she asked, hustling behind me.

“No. I’m fine. Thank you.”

Then, I continued forward as she followed me. Everyone looked alike here. So many two-thousand-dollar business suits and musky cologne. Don Draper from Mad Men could have stepped straight into this place. There was not a single other female. It was disorienting.

Then, I found Court sitting opposite Gavin. They had dirty martinis in front of them. Gavin laughed at whatever Court had just said. There were four other men with them, who I’d never met before. Though one of them looked familiar. I couldn’t place him though. Robert something?

I inhaled and then exhaled. At least I wore a sensible black dress and heels. I couldn’t appear frazzled to these men. They ate that for breakfast.

Gavin’s cunning eyes saw me first. He ran a hand back through his reddish brown hair and then jumped up. “English, love!”

“Gavin King.” I winked at him. “Just look at you.”

Court whipped around. His eyes narrowed in confusion. I hadn’t interrupted his guy time like this since I investigated his monthly poker game with Camden.

Gavin stepped around the table and drew me into a hug. “To what do we owe the pleasure? You look smoking hot. Has anyone told you that today?”

I laughed. “Actually, no, they haven’t.”

“I’m not saying that I’m happy that you’ll soon be single,” he said with a wink. “But… when you’re ready to date, you know who to ask.”

“Is that right?”

Court’s frown deepened. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

Gavin smacked Court’s arm. “Fucking manners, Kensington. Shouldn’t we introduce her around?”

“Oh, that’s not necessary,” I said, all business. “I’m just here to steal Court away from you all.”

“Why?” Court asked suspiciously.

“When a beautiful woman asks to steal you, you don’t ask why,” Gavin said with a laugh.

Court looked like he was going to object, but he gracefully rose to his feet. He looked… stupid good in a gray Tom Ford suit. He tugged his jacket forward, pulling it taut against his broad shoulders and buttoning the top button. He grasped the martini in front of him and drained it.

“Gentlemen,” he said casually. “Business awaits.”

They laughed and said their farewells. He shook hands with the familiar-looking guy—Robert something—and then Gavin.

“Poker tomorrow?” Gavin asked.

“I’ll see you there.”

“Don’t have too much fun.”

Court shot him his inimitable grin. “Don’t I always?”

Then, he gestured for me to precede him out of the restaurant. I glanced left and right, making sure no press had flagged him down before me, and then hustled him into his awaiting black car. I didn’t relax until the rest of Manhattan fell away with the snap of the car door.

“What’s going on, English?” he asked curtly. “I thought you had planned to let me live my life how I saw fit. That was a rather important luncheon.”

“Jane,” I whispered, hating it.

He froze. His entire body stiffened. “What about Jane?”

I swallowed. Fuck, I hated this.

“She refused a plea deal. They just scheduled her trial for December 10. I’m sorry, Court.