The Hating Season

by Linde, K. A.

  The Hating Season

  K.A Linde

  Contents

  Also By K.A. Linde

  Prologue

  I. Rules To Live By

  1. English

  2. English

  3. Court

  4. English

  5. Court

  6. English

  II. Turn the Tables

  7. English

  8. Court

  9. English

  10. English

  11. Court

  12. English

  13. Court

  14. English

  15. English

  16. Court

  III. Not Who I Thought

  17. English

  18. Court

  19. English

  20. English

  21. Court

  22. English

  23. Court

  24. English

  IV. Reality’s a Bitch

  25. English

  26. English

  27. English

  28. Court

  29. English

  30. English

  31. Court

  32. English

  V. And They All Come Tumbling Down

  33. English

  34. Court

  35. English

  36. English

  37. Court

  38. English

  39. English

  40. English

  Epilogue

  The Breaking Season

  Acknowledgments

  Also by K.A Linde

  About the Author

  A L S O B Y K. A. L I N D E

  SEASONS

  The Lying Season

  The Hating Season

  The Breaking Season

  The Faking Season

  CRUEL

  One Cruel Night ✦ Cruel Money

  Cruel Fortune ✦ Cruel Legacy

  WRIGHTS

  The Wright Brother ✦ The Wright Boss

  The Wright Mistake ✦ The Wright Secret

  The Wright Love ✦ The Wright One

  RECORD SERIES

  Off the Record ✦ On the Record ✦ For the Record

  Struck from the Record ✦ Broken Record

  AVOIDING SERIES

  Avoiding Commitment ✦ Avoiding Responsibility

  Avoiding Temptation

  Avoiding Extras

  Avoiding Intimacy ✦Avoiding Decisions

  DIAMOND GIRLS SERIES

  Rock Hard ✦ A Girl’s Best Friend

  In the Rough ✦ Shine Bright

  Under Pressure

  TAKE ME DUET

  Take Me for Granted ✦ Take Me with You

  STAND ALONE

  Following Me

  PARANORMAL ROMANCE

  BLOOD TYPE SERIES

  Blood Type ✦ Blood Match ✦ Blood Cure

  YOUNG ADULT FANTASY

  ASCENSION SERIES

  The Affiliate ✦ The Bound

  The Consort ✦ The Society

  The Domina

  ROYAL HOUSES SERIES

  House of Dragons

  The Hating Season

  Copyright © 2020 by K.A. Linde

  All rights reserved.

  Visit my website at

  www.kalinde.com

  Cover Designer: Staci Hart

  www.stacihartnovels.com

  Photography: Oleh Phoenix

  Editor: Unforeseen Editing

  www.unforeseenediting.com

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN-13: 978-1948427357

  Prologue

  English

  “And action,” the director called on set.

  The entire set went silent. I held my breath as my husband, Josh Hutch, stalked forward with all the command he had in his body. His costar Celeste followed behind him, clad in some torn, skimpy outfit, holding a gun. His suit coat was barely draped over her shoulders.

  My husband was the newest Jason Bourne, and I couldn’t have been prouder. When I’d taken the job in New York City to work for Court Kensington—the train wreck bad boy whose image I’d been working to clean up—my biggest regret was that I wouldn’t get to see Josh act in this movie while on set in London. He was a natural. Born for this moment. I had a film degree from UCLA, but anyone could see it.

  Thankfully, we’d figured a weekend that would work after Court’s mother won her primary bid for reelection for the mayor of New York. So, here I was, in London. A city I adored with the man I’d been with for the last five years.

  “Cut!”

  And the breath went out of the room.

  Noise came back. Everyone moved again.

  The director hopped up from her seat and stepped onto the set. “The chemistry is all wrong here. What is going on?” she demanded in frustration. Whatever she said next was spoken soft and urgent with Josh and Celeste.

  This was going to be a minute. When directors got going, nothing ever stopped them.

  I turned away from the display and fought back a yawn. Josh and I hadn’t slept much last night. We hadn’t seen each other in months. So, it had been expected. But it made it hard to stand around and do nothing. Not to mention, I hadn’t yet adjusted to the time difference.

  With a sigh, I headed toward the snack table. I plucked out a bag of almonds and poured myself a coffee. It wasn’t half as good as the stuff in New York that I had gotten used to, but it would keep me awake. That was all that mattered. I leaned back against the table and waited for everything to get going again. There were clusters of crew standing together all over the place, waiting just like I was. It was part of my job as a publicist to be able to read a room, and even through my sleep deprivation, something felt off.

  I continued sipping my coffee, wondering what was going on when I caught the beginning of a conversation nearby. Someone who clearly did not want to be eavesdropped on. My ears perked up.

  “Yeah, that’s his wife,” the first person said.

  “No wonder they suck today,” said the second voice.

  “Yep,” the first one continued. “We were doing just fine on set until she showed up.”

  I clenched my jaw. How was I doing anything? I’d only been on set for a few hours. Josh hadn’t even looked at me. I wasn’t a distraction.

  “It’ll be better when she’s gone.”

  “Yeah, so he and Celeste can start banging again,” the second voice said with a laugh.

  My body turned to stone. My heart stopped beating. I clenched the coffee so hard in my hand, some of it spilled over the lip and onto the floor.

  “I kind of feel bad for her,” the first voice said.

  “Yeah, I mean, they’re not even good at hiding it.”

  I couldn’t have heard them right. Josh and Celeste were… not together. There… there was no way he would do that. Not to me. We’d been together for five years. Three of those years, we’d been married. He had never even looked at another woman. Let alone fucked one! Why would he have even made time for me to come out here if that were the case?

  No. No, I didn’t believe it. I didn’t want to believe it.

  Suddenly, the room went silent again. The director was in her chair. Josh and Celeste moved back into place. I watched their body language like a hawk. Celeste laughed at something he’d said. She reached out an
d touched the collar of his shirt, straightening it. She was clearly familiar with him. But Josh stepped out of her touch just as quickly.

  Had he done that because I was here? Or was this some fabrication by the crew to explain their on-screen chemistry?

  I watched the next take and tried to see for myself that it was there. That they’d slept together. But… it just wasn’t.

  As soon as the director yelled, “Cut,” and called for a lunch break, Josh immediately darted away from Celeste and ran right for me.

  Still, the accusation lay there like a brick in my stomach.

  I had to address this. I had to know.

  “Hey, babe!” he said, leaning down to give me a kiss.

  I turned my face at the last moment, and he kissed my cheek.

  Fire burned in my veins. Fear. This was fear. I knew what cheaters were like. My dad was a prime example. Josh knew all about that. He wouldn’t do this to me.

  I searched his eyes. Those kind and caring baby blues I’d fallen in love with. The man of my dreams.

  “Can we talk?” I asked, trying to keep the hitch out of my voice.

  His brow furrowed. “Sure. We have an hour for lunch. Let’s get out of here.”

  He tried to sling his arm over my shoulders, but I stepped out of his embrace. “We should talk before lunch.”

  “Babe?”

  I took his arm and drew him away from the filmmaker and crew and stagehands. I needed to be alone with him. I needed to know.

  We walked back to his trailer, and it wasn’t until we were in the small room full of recycled air that I spoke, “Are you sleeping with Celeste?”

  “What?” he gasped.

  “Tell me the truth.”

  “English, how could you even ask me that?” He reached out and took my hands in his. He looked bereft without his wedding ring on. I knew it was for the film, but it didn’t make me feel any better. “I love you, honey.”

  “You haven’t answered me,” I told him, pulling my hands back.

  “No,” he said automatically. “Of course not. No. Celeste and I work together. What you saw back there was just on-screen chemistry.” He gestured to the stage. “It’s not real. You know that.”

  “I do. But the crew said…”

  “What did they say?” he asked.

  “They said that you two were off today because I was here. That you and Celeste were sleeping together. Fuck, they said they felt bad for me.”

  Fresh tears rose to my eyes, and I choked on the final words. I wanted to be the strong celebrity publicist who could take on the world with one fierce glare. But this was my life. My life falling apart.

  “Oh, baby,” he said, pulling me against him. “I’m so sorry you heard that. It’s not true. It’s just gossip.”

  I hiccuped once, desperately wanting to believe him. But something felt wrong. It still felt so wrong. I pulled back and swiped at my eyes, angry with myself for crying. “You promise?”

  “Yes, of course. Nothing is going on.”

  “Can I ask Celeste?”

  He froze in place. Trapped. Caught.

  “Oh god,” I whispered. “You really did it, didn’t you?”

  “No, no, no,” he said, denying it again.

  “Then, I’ll ask Celeste and see what she says,” I said, angling for the trailer door.

  Josh blocked my way. “You don’t trust me? English, come on. You know me.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Josh, think about who I am. I deal with cheating spouses every damn day of my life. I know the signs. And I know that if you won’t let me talk to Celeste, then that’s proof enough.”

  He sighed heavily and slumped forward in defeat. “Okay. Okay.”

  I waited, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “We did.” He cleared his throat. “We did sleep together.”

  I wrenched back in shock at the words. “How could you? Are you in love with her?”

  “No, English. No. It’s not like that. I don’t care for her. I love you.”

  “You liked her enough to fuck her!” I screamed back at him.

  “No, it’s not that. It’s just… it’s a publicity stunt.”

  “You dare say that to me?” I asked dangerously.

  “It is. I swear. We did it to help the movie. It worked for Mr. & Mrs. Smith, and we wanted that for this movie, too.”

  “You didn’t even tell me the movie needed help. I’m a fucking publicist, Josh. This is my job. And anyway, you could have come to me. You could have told me the problem. We could have fixed it together. In fact, you could have just told the press that you were sleeping together. What the fuck do I care about stupid rumors? You didn’t have to actually fuck her!”

  “You’re right. You’re so right, English. I’m sorry.” He reached for me, but I swatted him away.

  “Don’t fucking touch me, Josh.”

  Josh sank to his knees in front of me. “I love you, English. Tell me how to make this right.”

  I shook my head. There was no making this right. There never would be. “If this is how you treat people you love, then you can go fuck yourself.”

  I pushed past him and headed for the door.

  He was on his feet again, following me out of the trailer. “English, please, stop. We can talk about this. We can figure it out. You know that I’d do anything for you.”

  “Leave me alone. I’ve heard enough.”

  I was trying to hold the tears at bay. I was furious, and I wanted to die inside. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I couldn’t believe that my life was falling into shambles right now. I’d had the perfect husband, the perfect relationship, the perfect life. And now, it was gone.

  “Where are you going?” he asked frantically.

  “Home. Back to New York.”

  “You can’t just jump on a plane. That won’t fix this.”

  I glared at him as I flagged down a cab. “Nothing will to fix this. Go back to your movie, your fuckable costar, and all the money you’re going to get from this film. I hope that it makes you happy, Josh.” I laughed sardonically. “Actually… I don’t.”

  The cab pulled up in front of me, and I ripped the door open.

  Josh grabbed the door from me. “Don’t do this.”

  “I didn’t do anything. You made this decision for us.”

  Then, I slammed the door in his face, and the cab pulled away from the movie set. I didn’t cry until I was back in our hotel suite. Tears streamed down my cheeks and my chin as I packed up the suitcase I’d flown in with. I didn’t want to still be here when Josh got back tonight. I wasn’t going to stay in London another minute for him to try to win me back. There was no winning here. He’d ruined it all.

  My face was red and puffy, but the tears dried up by the time I arrived at Heathrow. At the ticket counter, I slid over Josh’s black card and asked for the earliest first-class ticket to New York City. Two hours later, the flight was boarding, and I took my seat in the pod.

  “Something to drink?”

  “Gin and tonic,” I told the woman. “And keep them coming.”

  She nodded and returned with two drinks for me with a wink. I downed the first without blinking and savored the second one as we started to taxi the runway. My phone buzzed in my purse, and I fished it out. A dozen missed calls from Josh. Fuck that. And one from my best friend, Lark.

  I should probably call her back.

  “Ma’am, you’re going to need to put your phone on Airplane mode,” the flight attendant told me with a smile.

  I sighed and powered the entire thing down. Lark and New York would have to wait until I made it back to the States. Right now, I just needed another drink and to sleep off the heartbreak.

  Part I

  Rules To Live By

  1

  English

  It had only taken forty-eight hours for my entire life to go to shit.

  A trip across the pond, my cheating bastard of a husband, and a near-arrest by my current pain-in-the-ass client. I
hadn’t slept. I’d barely eaten. The only thing in my bloodstream other than coffee as black as my heart was bitter, righteous rage.

  And I needed somewhere to direct it.

  I probably should have gotten something to eat and slept off my jet lag. Instead, I jammed my finger into the button for the elevator that would take me up to Court Kensington’s penthouse. Because he had royally fucked up, and I wanted to give him a piece of my mind.

  The door slid open soundlessly. I slipped inside and impatiently tapped my foot as it whisked me upstairs, opening directly into his apartment. I’d been impressed the first time I walked into his place. All clean, modern lines; open, airy floor plan; and Central Park views. I was used to Hollywood, and this was so New York. But I was over it now.

  Everything about it just reminded me that Court Kensington had grown up with a silver spoon in his mouth. He might be the hottest, most eligible bachelor on the Upper East Side, but to me, he was just another client for me to clean up his messes.