The Rebel King (All the King's Men Duet #2) - Kennedy Ryan Page 0,95
.” He shakes his head like he’s clearing it. “Never mind. Like I was saying. I’m not just here for the resume boost. Over the years, working together so much, well, I’ve come to care about you a lot.”
It’s like a train wreck. The lights are coming at me so fast right now.
“I’d like to take you out some time. Dinner or a movie? Theater. I know you like plays. We could—”
“Glenn, I’m sorry. I think you know we have a pretty strict policy about dating people we work with on campaigns.”
Unless you’re my soulmate, of course.
“Oh, yeah.” He pulls the ring on his Diet Coke can off, flipping it back and forth in his hands. “I get that. Maybe once the campaign is over—”
“Glenn, I don’t . . .” I clear my throat and stare at the crust of my sandwich. “I think it’s best if we just stay friends.” I brave a look up at him? “Ya know?”
He blinks at me, a lot and fast.
Is he gonna cry? Oh, dear Jesus. “Glenn, I’m sorry. I never realized—”
“No, it’s fine.” He stands abruptly, scraping his trash into a bag with jerky movements.
“I am so sorry, Glenn. I hope this won’t affect—”
“I’m a professional, Lennix,” he says, emphasizing my full name. “You want to stay friends. I get it. It’s fine.”
He says fine in that way you know shit is for sure not fine.
I turn to watch Glenn leave the bus, walking down the aisle quickly like someone is chasing him. Two thoughts circle in my mind like a carousel.
One: I’m not sure I handled that well.
Two: I really don’t want Maxim to know.
43
Maxim
I have my own plane.
It’s a ridiculous thought, but walking toward the Cade Energy jet, I can’t help but have it.
It’s not even about my plane is bigger than your plane, Dad, or look how rich I am. I use my plane a lot less than most guys in my position anyway. It’s the independence. The last time I was on a plane owned by my father, he basically told me I’d never make anything of myself without him. Every step I’ve taken away from him has proved him wrong. I was in my twenties then. Staring at forty, taking steps away from my family doesn’t feel like the right thing to do, especially when we’re all still reeling from Owen’s death.
The demands of my business and the campaign distract me, but nothing can erase the pain of losing my brother. I try not to talk about it much because I know I won’t be able to move forward if I do. I’ve been too busy for grief counseling, though I know I need it. The loss alone would be a lot to handle, but the guilt makes it worse—knowing Owen would still be here if I hadn’t shot Gregory’s brother, but I couldn’t have done a damn thing differently. I couldn’t have let him kill Lennix. I had to go get her, and when Gregory’s brother held a gun to her head, I had to shoot him.
But if there was any one thing I could change to reorder the events that led to Owen’s assassination, I would do it.
I settle into the leather seat and groan, scrubbing at my face, exhausted already. I don’t know how I’ll get through tonight, facing Millie and the twins.
“Mr. Cade.”
The flight attendant stands there, uniformed and solicitous. “We were waiting for Ms. Pérez before we took off. I wanted to let you know her car has arrived and she’ll be boarding soon.”
“Salina’s flying with us?”
“Yes, she is,” Salina says from the curtained door, smiling at the attendant as she retreats. “I hope it’s okay. Your father thought it would be.”
I’m sure he did. He makes it so hard to be nice to him.
“Um, sure,” I answer. “Plenty of room. I just didn’t know.”
“Millie wanted me to come.” She takes the seat beside me and kicks off her stilettos. “Feet are killing me. I was in court all morning.”
“You have an office in Philly?”
“No, I had a client here. Threat of deportation, but we got it sorted.” She angles a wry look at me, her brown eyes laughing. “Maybe when you’re president you can fix our immigration problem.”
I chuckle, lean on the armrest and place my chin in my hand. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“You really want to be president?” she asks, smiling.