The Hating Season (Seasons #2) - K.A.Linde Page 0,8

But sometimes, things slipped through the cracks.

I pulled up the tabloid, and Winnie leaned forward to look over my shoulder.

A gasp escaped my lips. “No.”

It was Josh and Celeste. Naked. In bed.

“Fuck!”

3

Court

Camden laughed so hard that I thought he was going to fall over. “She actually put you on lockdown? That woman has got some balls.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

He just laughed harder. “Come on. It’s hilarious. You’re a grown-ass man, and your publicist thinks you’re so fucked up that she won’t let you leave the house.”

“I didn’t even fucking do anything.”

I snatched up a bottle of his best whiskey and poured myself a double. English had told me not to leave, but I wasn’t taking her shit. It wasn’t like Camden’s penthouse in Percy Tower was a den of debauchery. Or at least, not one that was going to make it into any papers.

“You did get arrested,” Camden said with a shrug, taking a hit off a joint.

“Fuck that, man. I didn’t know what the fuck Jane was doing.”

“Maybe you should have paid attention.”

“To what?” I asked. “Jane seemed like every other girl on the Upper East Side, except that she was unique and interesting. She had money. She had ambitions. She didn’t care how obnoxious I was or about any of my bad habits. She didn’t even ask me to fund her stupid club. I fucking offered.”

“Maybe you should care less,” Camden suggested with a straight face.

“Like you?” I asked. “If we’re bringing up Jane and the arrest, should we discuss your wife?”

His eyes narrowed. “No.”

Camden and Katherine had entered an arranged marriage about a year ago. Half the time, I thought he hated her, and half the time, I thought he was insanely in love with her. With Camden, it was hard to tell where his head was. His life was business, business, business. Running one of the most successful and lucrative hotel chains in the country sure helped that.

“I didn’t think so.” I plopped into a seat adjacent to him and sipped on my whiskey. “She just drives me up the wall.”

“Then fire her,” Camden said with a shrug.

“In case you’ve forgotten, I didn’t hire her.”

“So? You’re the one allowing yourself to be subjected to this.”

I sighed. “She’s just doing her job.”

“It sounds like she stepped over a line.”

God, how I wished she had.

How had I fucking misinterpreted her reaction so completely? I’d almost kissed her. Almost reached across that divide between publicist and client. I hadn’t even wanted to. It had just been instinct. Which was fucking insane because I hadn’t touched another girl since the night Jane was arrested. The first person shouldn’t be fucking Anna English. That made no sense.

“This whole thing is just…stupid.” I held my hand out for the joint.

He passed it to me, and I took a hit.

“What’s stupid is not letting her do her job if it’s working. Is it working?”

I shrugged and made another pull. “I guess.”

“Then stop fucking complaining. And don’t fucking take the whole thing. That’s the good shit.”

I laughed and passed it back to him, feeling a little more relaxed. “I’m only complaining because this lockdown is bullshit.”

Camden stretched his legs and stepped up to the pool table. He racked the balls and set the cue down. He picked up his lucky stick, rolled chalk across the top, and then aimed.

“Solids or stripes?” he asked.

I swallowed the last of my drink and stepped over. “Stripes.”

“Strippers it is,” he said with a chuckle as he hit the cue ball with perfect accuracy.

The balls cracked together and then exploded around the green felt table. Three went in, and Camden smiled his typical competitive smile. The one that said I’d better fucking win, or I’ll end you. I knew it well.

“You know what you need, Court?” Camden asked, stepping up to the cue again.

“I think you’re going to tell me.”

“You need to get laid.”

“I am shocked to hear you say that,” I drawled, laying the sarcasm on thick.

He pocketed the ball and then smirked at me. “I know you. You haven’t fucked anyone since Jane.”

“So?”

“And you were actually faithful to her.”

“Some people see that as a good thing,” I reminded him.

“How many people would even believe that you were faithful to her?” Camden asked as he pocketed another ball.

I was beginning to wonder if I’d even get a chance to play the game.

“Likely no one.”

I’d carefully cultivated that appearance. I didn’t want anyone to think I cared about anything too much. I’d learned that caring usually ended up backfiring