Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 96802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
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 in my face. And look, it had happened with Jane, too.
“So, you haven’t had any other pussy in what…two years?”
Camden missed the next ball, and I sighed. Thank fuck.
“Two-ish years. Sure,” I said.
Even though I could give him the exact date Jane and I’d first fucked and everything else went out the window. I might be known as a Manhattan playboy, a giant train wreck, and the Kensington fuckup. In fact, I was all of those things. Or at least, I had been for most of my life.
But I’d thought Jane was endgame. You treated endgame differently than the other girls.
Turned out, I had been wrong. And her endgame was just prison.
“It’s time.”
I dropped the first ball into the pocket with ease. “Maybe.”
“You’re letting your publicist get to you. Weed and good whiskey aren’t even calming your bitching,” Camden said with a raised eyebrow. “You’re Court Kensington. How hard is it to find a willing supplicant?”
Too easy.
Always had been.
The Kensington charm that won my mother elections and had made my dipshit father so good at business got me whatever woman I wanted. All it took was a deep look into their eyes and a pointed smile.
It was how everything had ever been in my life. My name opened doors. I got everything I ever wanted, including the economics degree from Harvard. Who cared if I only went there for lacrosse when the Kensington name was on the building and I charmed my way through the classes?
I was that asshole. The rich, entitled fuck. And I’d never cared a day in my life.
Until the day I’d been arrested.
The day I found out that Jane had just been using me. That her smiles and charm had used and hurt me the way I’d used and hurt so many others.
“Ah, I know that look. You don’t want just anyone,” Camden said.
I whiffed the next ball. “Fuck.”
Camden chuckled as I slammed the stick back into place and waited for him to clean the table. I dragged my phone out of my pocket to check my messages. Maybe Camden had a point. Maybe it was time to move on. I knew a few people who might take the edge off. None that I wanted long-term, but…still…
A text waited for me from my buddy, Gavin King, our friend from college who ran the New York division of an oil empire, Dorset & King.
Holy fuck! Bro, did you see the pictures posted on TMZ? Isn’t that English’s guy?
I furrowed my brow and clicked on the link he’d provided. “Oh fuck!”
Camden glanced up from the pool table. “What?”
I slid the phone across the table to him. “Look at what Gavin just sent me.”
He picked up the phone and scrolled through the photos. “She’s hot. Why are we looking at porn?”
“That’s not porn. That’s Josh Hutch and Celeste Gammon on the set of the latest Bourne movie.”
“So?”
“That’s English’s husband.”
“Oh,” Camden said. His gaze swept the photos another time. “Not for long, I’d guess.”
“Yeah. Fuck.” I clenched my hands into fists. “Fuck! I was such a dick to her. And she was dealing with this shit.”
Camden handed me back the phone. “So? Why do you care?”
“I don’t.”
Camden smirked. “Okay.”
Fuck, why did I care?
4
English
“No. No. Put that over there,” I said, directing the movers.
“English, where do you want this box labeled Miscellaneous Closet?” my best friend, Lark, asked from the other room.
“Uh, I have no idea. Just my bedroom is fine. I’ll go through it.”
Lark wiped her hands on her pants and came back into the living room. “You know, this really isn’t that much stuff.”
“I know. I didn’t take everything. I figured I would buy all-new furniture and decorations. I didn’t want to take anything that reminded me of him.”
“Makes sense,” she said. “Glad we could get the moving done early so that I could be here for you before work.”