Page 14

FOURTEEN

LANDRY

My hand tightened involuntarily around his.

“I thought your father managed rental properties,” I said, trying not to act as upset as I felt at not having known this. “How could you have been homeless? That was only ten years ago.”

Kenji waved his free hand dismissively. “I didn’t tell them. I was too embarrassed. And it wasn’t like I was sleeping under a bridge. I’d met a guy at a bar one night who gave me the code to his building. I snuck in and slept at the bottom of the stairwell in the basement by the storage room door.”

I ran through my memories of that time, looking for clues. “You… you had a resume. You’d worked for a consulting company. In market research.”

Kenji sat back, as if my recall surprised him. Unfortunately, he took his hand with him. I moved both of my hands around my coffee to keep from reaching for him again.

“Yes,” he said. “And I was looking for something similar in New York.” He continued to tell me the story of how he’d wanted to live a bigger life, wanted to have his Sex in the City era, but had been taken advantage of after answering the wrong rooming ad.

Kenji shrugged, the movement drawing my attention to his elegant frame in the cream turtleneck sweater I’d picked out for him. He was so fucking beautiful it made my eyes smart.

“Then suddenly, I needed a paycheck, and I needed it quickly. I knew if I looked for a serving or bartending job, I ran the risk of never getting back into an office environment. So I signed up for a temp agency. Got sent to Sterling Chase that very first day.”

I remembered Bash mentioning his “miracle” of a temp and how he’d burned a bridge with the temp agency by hiring the guy right out from under them.

“You impressed us,” I said, remembering the younger, skinnier Kenji. The one in a hundred-dollar suit and a delicate nose ring that had made my dick perk up immediately. “Whatever happened to the nose ring?”

Kenji ran his fingertip down the side of his nose. “My father didn’t approve. He suggested the reason I hadn’t found a ‘real’ job yet was because I didn’t project a professional appearance. Maybe he was right. When I removed it, I got an offer from Deloitte.”

My coffee landed on the table with a thunk. “That was after you were working for us!”

He nodded calmly. “Yes.”

Before I had a chance to ask him why he hadn’t taken it, the server appeared with our food. We slipped back into the lie, pretending to eat our food while chatting happily about absolutely nothing.

I remembered to take a bite of his french toast. And he ended up with a dollop of hot chocolate on his nose. I leaned over and dropped an open-mouthed kiss there, tasting the creamy sweetness before moving down in search of more of it on his tongue.

We kissed longer than necessary. I was a victim of the heartbroken boy inside of my chest who insisted that kissing Kenji on the mouth was something we were meant to do. It was a god-given right we’d been denied for entirely too long.

When I sat back in my chair, I quickly grabbed his tall hot chocolate mug and made a comment about needing more of that sweetness, but in reality, I needed something to hide behind, if only for a moment.

He stole it back from me too soon, losing his smile for a second as he met my eyes.

The tension between us was excruciating, and I began to wonder how many hours we were expected to stay here.

Somehow, we survived long enough to make it to the door before running into the Winthrops. My stomach dropped with the reminder that we were only partway through this nightmarish ordeal.

Another half hour of chatting, of manly back-clapping and hearty handshakes, remained. My restlessness must have shown because Kenji grabbed my hand and held it tightly in his, running his other hand up the inside of my forearm under my sweater.

His nails dragged lightly up and down my skin. Up and down. Up… and down until my body hair stood on end and my dick swelled. I shifted in my seat, but Kenji only pulled me closer and continued the tender torture. He carried the entire weight of the conversation, asking Jim and Jamie about their business and discussing mutual colleagues known to Kenji through Bash and Silas’s work with Sterling Chase.

“…looking forward to seeing Cora,” Jamie said.

The mention of my cousin quickly doused the magic and returned my dick back to unimpressive proportions. “I’m sorry, what? You’re seeing my cousin?”

Jim nodded enthusiastically. “I spoke with her yesterday. She’s agreed to partner with Jamie for the sports day so you and Kenji can be together.”

“Sports day,” I repeated stupidly as the details mentioned in one of the PR meetings finally bobbed to the surface.

Kenji gave my arm one last squeeze before letting go and reaching for his glass of water. “The youth program receiving the foundation’s endowment in a couple of days. Remember? You’re giving a speech to the kids on healthy nutrition and exercise. It’s part of the?—”

“Darling, I can’t possibly give a speech,” I said with the same fake smile I’d been abusing all day. “How about money? I’m good at giving that.”

Kenji gave an equally fake chuckle. “Don’t listen to him,” he told Jim. “Landry’s good at doing both. We’re looking forward to it. Cora is excited about the dedication, and I’ll make sure Landry doesn’t take the games too seriously.”

Jamie leaned forward to tell Kenji a supposedly funny story about the time we played cricket during a heavy rainstorm at Eton. “We were all too competitive to call the match. I remember wondering if it was all of those years of family expectations and brinksmanship that made these baby lords insist on catching colds and making themselves miserable.”

Jim and Kenji laughed politely as we all stood up to make our way out of the cafe.

“And what about you?” I asked Jamie as I helped Kenji into his coat. “I don’t remember you giving up either.”

Jamie met my eye and waited a beat for his father to step over to say something to the server. “You weren’t the only one with family expectations, Ev… Landry,” he said in a low voice. “You weren’t then, and you aren’t now.”

We each played our roles as we sauntered out of the cafe and made a big production out of saying goodbye and wishing each other well.

“See you later this week at Killian Prep?” I asked Jamie with a smile as if we were suddenly great chums.

“Wouldn’t miss it. See you then.”

As soon as Kenji and I stepped onto the pavement, the questions started up again. This time, they were more focused on San Cordova. On the violence and conflict. On whether or not we’d heard about the delay in freeing the remaining hostages.

Kenji seemed to shrink next to me, so I let go of his hand and wrapped an arm around his shoulders before ignoring the questions and setting off for Hawling House under the protection of our security personnel. The warm weight of Kenji against my side felt better as we made our way down Charlbert Street. Partway down the road, I pointed to a building behind scaffolding. “Did you know Zane once recorded a song in that recording studio when he was here between tour dates? Apparently, they’d messed something up on… what song was it?”

“Oh. Was it ‘Ashes to Amen’ and everyone started calling it ‘Ashes to Omens’ after everything went wrong?”

We laughed together, remembering. It felt good to have someone with a depth of shared memory. I was grateful to have Kenji and the guys in the Brotherhood. At a time when my father’s memory was becoming unpredictable, I especially appreciated being able to reminisce with Kenji.

I would miss it when he was back in New York.

Kenji leaned over and kissed under my ear, surprising me.

“What was that for?” I said it in a teasing manner for the cameras, but his kiss didn’t feel scripted or put on.

“I was in Florida when that happened with Zane. At my grandmother’s bedside. She’d passed out at a luncheon, and her friends had worried it was a stroke, so I flew down to be with her?—”

“Oh shit,” I said. “Yeah. I remember now. I think I was in Milan or something. I know I wasn’t in New York with you when you got the call.”

He leaned into me even more, almost causing me to list sideways. “You were in Turkey. And I remember because I got a security alert from your credit card account asking if you’d meant to make a purchase on United Airlines for over two thousand dollars from somewhere in Turkey.”

“Oh?” I felt his eyes on me.

“Yes. And I assumed the charge was fraudulent because you had the private plane with you in Istanbul. But when I got to JFK to check in for my flight to Florida—a flight on United Airlines, of course—they’d put me in first class.”

My face heated. “Sucks to have long legs in coach,” I muttered, grateful to spot our house at the end of the block.

Kenji’s legs weren’t all that long, but they still seemed it. He reminded me of a praying mantis sometimes, long and lean. Poised. Observant.

Before he had a chance to say anything else, we’d reached the house. I gestured the security personnel to the side so I could answer one of the shouted questions I’d heard.

Kenji stood close, his hand warm in mine.

“As you know, that was Jim Winthrop at the cafe, along with his son, Jamie. Jamie happened to be at the same retreat in San Cordova where Kenji was when the protests began. Jamie and I were at Eton together,” I added, subtly reminding everyone I was the son of a peer, an old-money aristocrat rather than simply an American supermodel. I’d been to Eton. I’d been raised here, at one of the largest historical homes in London. It was the reason we took all of our questions here, on the front steps of Hawling House, instead of in front of a cafe that was younger than Zoom. “It was nice to rekindle our friendship. I discovered we’re both involved in a youth charity event later this week. Killian Prep School has agreed to open their sports fields and swim facilities for use by the Crimstock and Fendall Primary Schools for their sports days. The Davencourt Foundation is donating equipment and other kit so more kids can enjoy outdoor sport. The Winthrops’ own foundation has created a project to replicate this at other schools around London. They’ll be announcing more information about it later this week. It’s an incredible project.”

Kenji piped up. “And Landry is giving a talk to all of the school children about the importance of healthy nutrition and exercise. Over the years, he’s supported dozens of similar programs in the US and Latin America. You probably already know about his participation in the CFDA Health Initiative and Vic Machado’s Shape the Runway program.”

My face heated as I cut him off as quickly as possible. “We also discussed the upcoming Hearts of Hawling Dinner, which helps the Davencourt Foundation raise money to be able to fund projects like these. I made sure Jim and Jamie were both invited, and I’m looking forward to connecting with many other old friends there. If you have any other questions, please reach out to the foundation. Thank you.”

I slid my hand onto Kenji’s lower back and guided him through the front door and toward the staircase. Once the front doors were closed behind us, he turned to move toward the kitchen. “Don’t you want to update Cora and Nan on how it went?” he asked.

“No. I want to get back in bed.”

Kenji’s eyes widened.

“Alone,” I added quickly.

He rubbed his thumb across the back of the ring on his finger as if ensuring it was still there. “Fine. But I’m going to give them an update.”

Kenji’s legs ate up the distance to the back of the house, where I could hear Nan and my father talking.

“Trust me,” I called after him. “You do not want to do that.”

He waved a dismissive hand over his shoulder. I took a step in his direction before stopping myself. What I really needed right now was distance from him.

Kenji’s hand in mine, his calm words praising me, and the feathery touch of his lips under my ears had lured me down a dark path.

A false path.

We weren’t actually in a relationship. Despite my wishes, despite years of hoping, and despite the farce enacted for the media, Kenji didn’t want to be with me.

Breath struggled to move through my chest at the reminder.

What I needed was something to keep my mind off my fake husband. What I needed was to prepare myself for this absurd bid for Parliament. Even though my chances of getting selected were close to zero, I knew Teddy Baines wouldn’t have asked me to put myself up for it if he didn’t have a plan.

I turned on my heel and entered the code for the elevator. While I waited for it to come up from downstairs, I shot a text to Teddy’s assistant.

Please find me a few minutes in Teddy’s schedule.

His team would have already seen the cheeky implication I gave to reporters before brunch and know exactly what I wanted to talk about.

Once I was ensconced in the Range Rover—with Simon at the wheel in case the area around Whitehall was too congested to park—my phone buzzed with a call from Zane.

The sight of his familiar face on my screen made me realize how much I missed the Brotherhood.

“Hey, you,” I said, accepting the call. “How are things with the new label?”

“Fuck you,” he said, emotion clogging his throat. “Fuck you so fucking much.”

My chest constricted as I realized that in all of my plans, in all of the strategy meetings and discussions over how to reveal my hidden identity to the public, I’d never made the four most important phone calls.

“Zane,” I breathed. “Wait.”

I could hear his tears and his bodyguard boyfriend’s angry grumbles in the background. “You stood there in front of cameras acting like it was no big deal. Like the fact that you and Kenji are… are…”

“We’re not!” I said quickly, cutting him off, trying to limit what Simon heard since he’d only worked for the family for six months. “We’re not. You need to let me explain, but I can’t right now. I’m on the way to an important meeting and?—”

“Oh,” he scoffed with a bitter laugh. “Oh, sure. Well, if it’s important , I guess you’d better go.”

“Call Kenji,” I begged. “Please. Please call Kenji right now and ask him to explain.”

“Kenji’s not my brother ,” he barked, voice full of betrayal. “Kenji’s not the guy I thought understood me. The one who supposedly grew up poor like I did, who knew what it was like to wonder where his next meal was coming from.”

Shame washed over me, leaving me hollow and light-headed. “Zane.”

I heard Ryan in the background. “Hang up. He’s not fucking worth it. C’mere, sweetheart.”

Tears welled in my eyes as I looked up at the ceiling of the Rover in hopes they wouldn’t spill out and get caught on someone’s camera.

“He’s right, Z,” I said, pretending to smile in case anyone was watching. “Listen to the man.”

I ended the call.