Page 8 of Anti-Hero (Kensingtons: The Next Generation #2)

“ F or the sake of my dick, you need to get up.”

I don’t so much as blink, unfazed and noncompliant. “You’re going to have to clarify what you getting laid has to do with my location, Parks,” I tell my half-full glass.

Flynn sighs dramatically. “We’ve been friends for long enough that people see me in Proof and expect you to be here too. And if you’re hiding in a back-corner booth, for example, women ask me why you’re hiding in a back-corner booth instead of asking me to take them home. See the issue now?”

“Yep. Your game is pitiful, and you’re looking for a scapegoat. Keep searching because I’m staying put.”

Another heavy exhale from my best friend. “Worth a try,” Flynn grumbles, then snags the complimentary champagne that was starting to swim in the ice bucket and takes a swig straight from the bottle. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m just tired. Exhausted actually.” I drag a palm down my face. “Long fucking week.”

It’s past midnight on a Friday night. So technically Saturday.

Prime partying hour. I’m sitting in the VIP section of one of Manhattan’s most exclusive clubs.

And all I can think about is how badly I’d rather be in bed, fast asleep.

How being home suddenly seems like a luxury after a week of meetings and conference calls and presentations and pitches.

“It’ll get easier, man,” Flynn tells me. “Your new assistant is starting on Monday, right?”

“Right.” The reminder results in me swallowing the rest of my scotch.

When Flynn stopped by the office earlier to talk me into coming here, someone from IT was setting up a new computer at the desk outside my office. At the desk that now belongs to Collins.

I already knew she’d accepted the offer—Lili texted to tell me what she termed “amazing news.” And as her direct supervisor, I was cc’d on the emails human resources sent her about direct deposit and health insurance and 401(k) contributions.

But it didn’t feel real until I left the building earlier and realized she’d be there the next time I walked in.

I can’t believe she took the job.

I can’t believe the first time I’m going to see Collins since being inside of her is as my fucking assistant .

A former relationship—if you could even call a one-night stand that—with a current employee isn’t a violation of any company policies. I checked. But it’s certainly not encouraged. Hiring a woman you’ve fucked is a poor professional decision by any standard.

It wasn’t just my decision though. Collins knows our history as well as I do, and she chose to take the job.

She’d also snuck out while I was sleeping.

For as long as I’ve known Collins, she’s controlled the narrative between us. I’ve been the one begging for her attention. She’s been the one who walks away.

Last week, that shifted. She begged. She stayed.

And it’s about to change again. We were finally on equal footing, and now I’m technically her superior. Her boss .

“At least your family thinks you’re capable of responsibility,” Flynn tells me. He swallows more champagne, then adds, “Not sure why , but they clearly do.”

I muster a smile, appreciating his attempt to cheer me up.

Our entire lives, Flynn and I have been on symmetrical paths.

That’s just changed. He’s studying for the LSATs and then will possibly attend law school, depending on when—or if—he decides to defy his father.

My dad respected my decision to not go to business school after graduating undergrad and stopped by my office on Monday to tell me how proud he was.

I feel shitty, complaining about my supportive parents and important job, but at least Flynn doesn’t have to worry about disappointing everyone.

“I’m grabbing another drink,” I tell Flynn.

He whoops as I stand. “Attaboy! ”

Everyone in a fifty-foot radius glances in this direction as I start walking.

There’s a private bar located in the VIP section, but I head toward the main one instead.

I was hiding, and it didn’t help. Might as well search out a distraction.

This club is crawling with people who want my attention.

Who expect me to be entertaining and exciting and fun .

I spent a large portion of the summer as Proof’s main attraction, making the most of my dwindling days of limited responsibility.

The whispers and stares around me make me feel like a celebrity.

They set the stage for the part I’m supposed to play.

Tonight, I’m too distracted to fully register the attention, much less appreciate it.

I could still call this off. As persistent as she is, Lili doesn’t have any actual power at the company. No matter how much she protests and complains, she can’t pick my assistant for me. Not unless I let her.

But … I can’t do that to Collins. She had a choice, too, and she decided to take the job.

I prop my elbow on the edge of the bar top and drag a palm down my face, releasing a frustrated groan that gets lost in the steady bass pumping through invisible speakers.

As soon as the nearest bartender spots me, he hurries over.

Lili and I have been coming to Proof since high school.

Surprisingly, I don’t think Bash has ever stepped foot inside this bar.

He’s always been the most measured of the three of us.

Part of it’s his personality. Also, after he spent years of watching Lili and me push boundaries, I guess him doing the same lost some appeal.

“What can I get for you, Kit?” the bartender asks.

“Tequila soda, Scott.”

He nods and bustles down the bar to make my drink.

“Tequila, huh? Must have been a long week. ”

I glance to my left, toward the voice. And then down when I realize it belongs to a woman whose head is level with my shoulder. Standing, not perched on one of the stools.

“Never-ending,” I answer.

She smiles. “I’m more of a gin-and-tonic girl under stressful circumstances.”

My eyes dart to her drink. “Gin and tonic?”

“Ding, ding, ding!” She pairs the sound effects with a series of ridiculous hand gestures, and I can’t help but grin in response.

“What are the stressful circumstances?” I wonder.

She shrugs a shoulder. “I just moved here. I’m searching for a job, a reasonably priced coffee shop, and a guy who doesn’t consider talking about the stock market scintillating conversation.”

I’m still grinning when Scott delivers my drink and asks if I’d like anything else. I shake my head and thank him, swallowing a long sip of the smoky, fizzy drink.

“I’m Cleo, by the way,” the woman tells me.

“Christopher,” I reply automatically.

Which is strange because I usually introduce myself to women as Kit.

“What are your thoughts on the stock market, Christopher?” Cleo asks cheekily.

“Good reminder. I haven’t checked my returns in at least twenty minutes.” I pull my phone out.

Cleo sighs heavily. “Damn, you’re funny. But you still haven’t looked lower than my shoulder. So, you’re either gay or taken, right?”

“Or I don’t want to strain my neck.”

She reaches for her gin and tonic. “Funny and tall. For the sake of my ego, can we pretend you’re gay? ”

I chuckle. “Sure.”

“It was nice to meet you, Christopher,” she says, grabbing her drink and spinning around.

“You too,” I call after her.

It’s not until Cleo’s walking away that it occurs to me that I never considered hooking up with her. That I introduced myself by my full name because I figured I’d never see her again.

She was pretty. Clearly interested. And the thought of having sex with her didn’t cross my mind when she introduced herself.

I try to picture what Cleo looked like, and Collins scowling at me in a blue-gray dress is the image that I conjure instead.

Followed by a rapid succession of memories of what she looked like with that dress off . My formerly flaccid dick twitches.

That bodes fucking poorly for Monday.

Lili and her damn meddling. If she hadn’t interfered with my assistant search, I’d have been free to remind Collins what a night in my bed was like the next time we saw each other.

I scowl at the floor before swallowing more of my drink.

When Collins accepted the job offer, she rejected any possibility of us hooking up again.

Everyone in the building already thinks I only got to where I am because of my last name.

A fling with my assistant would sustain the office gossip mill for months.

Would disappoint my entire family. Would erase any respect I’ve earned.

I was worried we wouldn’t happen again.

The reality that we won’t leaves a bitter aftertaste I wash away with the remainder of my cocktail.

I should have ordered scotch. I don’t drink tequila very often, and I’m not sure why I ordered it tonight.

Maybe some subconscious attempt to erase any special association with the alcohol following last weekend .

I text Camden, my driver, letting him know I’m leaving.

Then Flynn, reminding him to close out the tab before he heads home.

My phone begins buzzing as soon as I slide it back into my pocket, probably with Flynn’s protests.

This is the earliest I’ve left a club in …

ever. And one of the rare times I’ve departed solo.

Maybe I am growing up.

Several people recognize me and call out to me as I stride toward the exit, but my steps don’t slow. It’s loud enough in here that I can pretend I don’t hear them. I don’t feel like talking, and it turns out my dick is only interested in the one woman who’s completely off-limits.

Camden is waiting outside, as efficient as always. I ignore the commotion from the hopefuls in line to enter Proof and climb straight into the back seat, relaxing against the plush seat and covering a yawn.

“Where to, Mr. Kensington?” Camden asks.

“Home, please.”

“Yes, sir.”

I stare out the window mindlessly as the car travels uptown. City lights flash past, the soundtrack of honks and sirens fading into background noise. It rained sometime recently because drops of water blur the glass.

I yawn again. Fuck, I’m tired. And drunk. It’s a good thing I never asked Lili for Collins’s number or else I’d probably be using it right now.

Camden pulls into the underground garage beneath my building twenty minutes later. Before climbing out of the car, I instruct him to take the weekend off. If I decide to go out, I’ll drive myself.

Three attempts are required to correctly punch in the code for the elevator, thanks to my bleary eyes and the alcohol swimming in my bloodstream. I yawn for a third time as I wait for the doors to open .

When they finally do, the elevator is empty, which is a relief.

My penthouse, however, is not empty. I hear the voices and rock music as soon as I exit the elevator and approach the door.

I curse Bash under my breath as I fish my keys out of my pocket and fit one into the lock. He got home from an Alaskan fishing trip last week, and he’s supposed to be packing before leaving tomorrow. His fall term at Dartmouth starts on Monday.

I kick my shoes off in the entryway and head straight into the kitchen, avoiding the commotion coming from the living room. I should drink some water. And the steak Flynn and I had for dinner feels like a lifetime ago.

“You’re home early.”

I glance over one shoulder to see Bash approaching. He’s balancing two pizza boxes that he drops on the marble counter in a clatter of cardboard.

“Yeah.” I grab a water, shut the door, and flip the lid of a box open. It’s empty. So’s the second one.

“We can order another pizza,” my brother offers.

“Nah, it’s fine.” I uncap the water and guzzle most of it down. “What time are you leaving tomorrow?”

“Dunno yet. Mom and Dad are coming over at noon.”

“Okay.” I scrub a palm along my stubbled jaw. “I’m headed to bed.”

“Seriously? It’s not even one.”

“Seriously. I’m exhausted.”

“From work?” Bash asks dubiously.

“Among other things. Thanks a fuck ton for making me Lili’s photography project, by the way. I think I have permanent vision damage. ”

“I don’t see how that’s possible. Your eyes were closed, and you were scowling in every single one.”

I shake my head and finish off my water.

“I didn’t ask Lili to take photos, for the record. Just to send me the ones she took. She sent them to Mom and Dad too. Mom might use one on this year’s Christmas card.”

“Wonderful,” I drawl.

“I did suggest she check on you though. You’ve barely been home this week. I was worried.”

“I’m good,” I assure him. “I’ve just been busy.”

Bash nods. Glances at the stove, rubbing the back of his neck. “How-how is it? Really?”

He’s not just asking as a concerned brother. He’s asking because his last name is Kensington too.

I blow out a long breath and admit, “I love it.”

Bash’s startled eyes meet mine. “What?”

“I love it,” I repeat. “I thought I’d be bored or basically just a figurehead. But it’s exciting. Interesting. Exhausting, yeah, but in a good way.”

“So, you think I should …”

“Enjoy the rest of college,” I finish. “And then decide if you want to challenge me for CEO.”

Bash smirks. Competitive might as well be a synonym for Kensington. But I know my brother well enough to see the relief in his expression too.

Lili picked a different path. He—like me—was waiting to see what the expected one was like.

“Yeah, sounds good,” he tells me .

I yawn yet again and decide I’m too tired to hunt for food. I just want sleep. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Make sure you’re packed.”

“We’ll turn down the music,” Bash calls after me as I head down the hallway.