The Rebel King (All the King's Men Duet #2) - Kennedy Ryan Page 0,29
Wallace says, lowering his head and digging back into his meal. “I just heard Lenny calling you that and—”
“Precisely. She’s the only one who calls me that.”
Lennix stretches her eyes at me in a WTF warning. I shrug, brush off her silent rebuke and pile my plate with more kale than bison.
Soon Lennix’s coffee table is littered with full wine glasses and empty plates. Her friends continue talking, laughing with the familiarity of years together. I’m not the kind of person who feels left out, so it doesn’t bother me that I don’t have much to say or find many natural places to contribute to the conversation. I’m content to observe this looser version of Lennix that her close friends draw out. I’m also having trouble concentrating on their discussion, which ranges from politics, obviously, to fashion and, for some reason, Mary Tyler Moore re-runs. I must have missed something, though, because why?
My watch garners most of my attention, sending stock alerts every few minutes. Our deal in Hong Kong will go south if the market keeps fluctuating the way it has been all day.
“That’s some watch, Maxim,” Vivienne says teasingly. “Is that . . . no way. I’ve never seen one in real life. Is that a Richard Mille?”
I glance from the watch to her excited face and nod.
“Wow.” She gives Lennix a knowing smile. “Wait till I tell the girls back home that your boyfriend’s a baller, Lenn.”
“You know you can’t, right?” Lennix’s expression borders on horrified. “We’re not telling people.”
“What?” My head snaps around and I meet her eyes head on. “The hell. What do you mean we’re not telling people?”
“Maxim,” Lennix says almost patiently, like I missed a memo. “We didn’t have much time together before I left, but I’ve been careful that we haven’t been seen in public or around people we can’t trust not to out us.”
“Not to out us? We have nothing to hide. I’m not pretending we’re not together.”
“It’s just not a good look if the press finds out while Owen’s running,” she says, her own frown growing heavier. “I guess we haven’t really talked about it, but I thought you knew . . . well, I have certain rules for my team, and I have to follow them, too.”
“What rules?” I demand.
“We have a strict don’t fuck the candidate policy.” Kimba says and sips on her third glass of wine.
“I’m not a candidate. My brother is. Problem solved.”
“You’re candidate-adjacent, though,” Lennix says, “which means you’re close enough that a relationship with someone from the team would distract the press from covering the real issues and, consequently, the public from voting on them.”
“I’m not hiding my relationship.”
“You’re not the only one in this relationship,” she fires back.
“Apparently neither of us is, if appearances are to be believed,” I say with increasing irritation.
“It’s taken us a decade to get our consulting firm off the ground in what is, as you know, a man’s game. If they get past the fact that I’m a woman, then I’m also a person of color. In some circles, that’s two strikes against me before I even open my mouth. I can’t afford some gossip rag undermining my credibility by insinuating I slept my way into this.”
“Seriously? You think a consensual relationship between two adults will ruin your career?”
“Of course you wouldn’t get it,” she says, exasperation clear in her voice, on her face. “You don’t have to worry about things like that. Nothing could penetrate all those layers of privilege to even touch you.”
In the awkward silence that follows, I set my wine glass down on the coffee table and stand, heading to the kitchen.
“Doc—”
“Is there no hard liquor in this whole damn place?” I cut in, ignoring all of them and going straight for the stainless steel refrigerator as soon as I enter the kitchen.
The swinging door behind me opens, but I don’t turn.
“I’m sorry,” Lennix says.
I don’t answer, but keep moving things around in the fridge in the quest for something to drink. I’d settle for a beer.
“Did you hear me, Doc?”
I close the refrigerator and turn to face her. Even though she’s just across the room, it feels like we’re farther apart. “I like bourbon.”
She blinks and frowns. “Okay. I’ll get some.”
“Ask Jin Lei.”
“Ask her . . . what?”
“The bourbon. She knows the one.”
“Alright.”
“Fine.” I lean against the counter and wait for her to go on.
She licks her lips and heaves a sigh. “I said I’m sorry.”