by Linde, K. A.
And then we kissed, slow and passionate and needy. His hands skimmed my waist. Our hips moved together. All felt right with the world.
Epilogue
Ten Weeks Later—English
It snowed the last day of Jane’s trial.
It felt like it’d snowed every day of her trial. Every day that we’d been dragged through that holiday season as we waited on bated breath to find out the verdict. And now, we were here. At this moment.
Guilty on three charges of grand larceny with ten years in prison.
Jane was going to appeal. That much was clear. She’d spent the trial completely self-absorbed, seemingly without a care in the world. She’d hired a stylist and a hairdresser. I had no clue how she could afford it, considering she owed millions of dollars.
And the entire time, she had acted like it was a forgone conclusion that she would be released. That everything would work out for her. As it always had.
Her face fell when she was sentenced. Like it had all finally come crumbling down.
Court looked away and then slowly slipped out of the courtroom. I followed. I didn’t want to see it either.
I stepped outside. Out of the courthouse and into the still-falling January snow. I’d thought it a marvel at first. Beautiful and white and cold. And now, it was mostly just an annoyance. They’d said it didn’t snow that much in New York City. They’d been wrong.
“Hey,” I said softly as I approached Court. The shoulders of his peacoat were already dusted with snow. I dragged gloves out of my pockets and stuffed my hands into them. “How are you doing?”
He breathed out heavily, the air fogging in front of him. “I’m glad it’s over.”
“She’s probably going to appeal. It could drag out for another year or more.”
He nodded. “I know.”
“But the worst is over, I think.”
“Yeah.”
“Are you going to be okay?” I asked gently.
He turned to me then and brushed a snowflake off the tip of my nose. “Yeah, I am. I don’t love Jane. I never loved Jane. I’m just sorry for her. For how delusional she is about everything… and how she used me in it.”
“It takes a great deal of sympathy to feel that way about someone who wronged you.”
He laughed and then sighed. “I just want to shake her and wake her up. Is that sympathy, too?”
“Probably,” I said with a grin. “Are you ready to go back?”
He nodded and reached for my hand. “I’m ready to go home.”
“Your place or mine?” I asked.
He tugged me a step closer in the snow, leaving tracks behind. “I was kind of thinking ours.”
“Oh?” I whispered, hardly breathing.
“Move in with me.”
“It’s a little soon.”
He brushed his nose against my own freezing one. “I’m tired of having a bachelor pad. I’m tired of sharing between our two places. I just want you with me all the time. So… move in with me, Anna.”
I bit my lip and then nodded. “I could do that. Should I sell my place?”
He waved a dismissive hand. “Keep it for work. Use it as your office for E&B. Do whatever you want. But be with me.”
“I like that,” I admitted.
“Good. Because I’m never letting you go.”
I giggled, a girlie thing that just bubbled up out of me. “And can I redecorate?”
“You can do whatever you want.”
“Whatever I want?” I asked with raised eyebrows.
“Oh no, what is it that you do want, Anna English?”
I bounced on my toes with a grin. “A kitten.”
He huffed. “You want a cat?”
“I was thinking like the smallest little ginger kitten that is going to melt your heart.”
“You don’t want a dog?”
I laughed and shook my head. “Neither of us has time for a dog. I love dogs. Don’t get me wrong. But cats can kind of fend for themselves. Kind of like us. So… I think a kitten.”
He shrugged and pulled me toward the car. “A kitten then.”
We drove across town and pulled up in front of a shelter. I couldn’t hide the giddy feeling taking over my body. I’d always wanted a cat, growing up. There had been feral ones that I fed, but they never lasted long. Not in LA. And Josh was deathly allergic. We couldn’t have any pets whatsoever. This would be my first real pet.
We stepped through the doors and padded through the different cells. My heart wrenched, as I wished I could adopt them all. Big and small.
There were no ginger kittens, but a litter of calico kittens stole the show. One in particular kept scurrying all over as if she owned the place. She absolutely resisted being controlled but let me rub her belly for a full minute. And I knew she was the one.
“What should we name her?” I asked Court.
He stared down at the wild, unruly kitten I’d chosen. “Train Wreck.”
I snorted. “How about Muffin?”
“Muffin? That savage thing? It’d be better off with the name Trouble.”
“All right,” I said, glancing down at the cat again. “Do you want to come home with us, Trouble?”
Court just laughed. “I think she does.”
We paid her fees, got her all situated, bought her a ton of supplies, and then took her home with us. She promptly attempted to ruin Court’s penthouse, but he didn’t seem to care. Trouble was too cute. And we were going to redecorate anyway.
A few hours later, I leaned back against Court. Trouble was passed out between us on a blanket. Court pressed a kiss into my forehead.
“I love you, Anna,” he breathed against my hair.
“I love you, too.” Then, I ran a finger down Trouble’s forehead. “We love you, Trouble.”
Court just laughed and drew me in for another kiss. “Today couldn’t get any better.”
I grinned devilishly and then climbed carefully over the kitten and into his lap. “Oh, I think it could.”
The world slipped away, as it always did. Until it was just me and Court. And nothing else mattered.
* * *
Love Court & English?
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THE
BREAKING SEASON
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The Breaking Season
Chapter 1 — Katherine
My patent leather high heels clicked against the hardwood floors. I reached the wall, pivoted, and walked back the length of the room. I was wearing a path in my penthouse.
My phone buzzed. Again.
I still hadn’t answered it. I knew precisely who was messaging me and why.
I still had time to get in a cab and make it to dinner. If I left now, I wouldn’t even be late. And still I paced back the other direction.
A muscle fluttered in my jaw as I heard my phone go off one more time. I stilled, forcing my body to stop its incessant pacing. Then the phone started ringing. I grumbled and wrenched it off of the counter.
“What?” I snapped.
“Happy anniversary to you too, darling,” Camden said silkily on the other line.
A facade. He didn’t care about our anniversary.
“Why do you keep messaging me?” I asked him irritably.
“There’s still time for me to pick you up in the limo.”
“I already said that I’d take a cab.”
He said nothing. Didn’t even sigh. Gave not the slightest bit of notice that he was frustrated with my attitude. But today was not my day. Today was the one year anniversary of our arranged marriage. I couldn’t act like it was anything else even if he could.
“I don’t see the need,” he finally said.
“I will meet you at the restaurant,” I barely got out.
“You will be there, correct?” His voice was low and guttural as if it irked him
that he even had to ask.
“I just said that I would.”
Though I had thought of every available excuse to get out of it, including sneaking onto Lark’s private jet and heading down to the Caribbean a few days early. But I knew none of them would pass muster. Camden would just meet me at the resort and be furious with me. And I knew what would happen from there. What always happened when his temper flared.
Heat ran up my throat and I touched my fingers to it.
“I’ll be there,” I said a little breathlessly.
“Good. Don’t be late,” he growled before hanging up.
“Fucker,” I snapped back at him.
I wouldn’t be late, but fuck, did I want to. No, I didn’t want to go at all. I knew what this whole fucking pretense was about. Why he’d scheduled this dinner and forced me to stay behind while my friends darted off to sun and sand and frozen drinks with little umbrellas.
One year ago, I’d agreed to be his wife.
This year, he wanted everything else I’d signed away.
Time for me to live up to my end of the bargain.
I released a breath and forced my face back to neutral. This wasn’t who I was. I didn’t run. I was Katherine Van Pelt. Sexy, fierce, and formidable. Not even the likes of Camden Percy could make me waver.
It was just dinner.
A stupid fucking dinner.
It didn’t mean that I had to give into his demands. I never gave in. Well…not anymore. There had been a moment, barely even a moment if I was honest, when I’d thought that this marriage could work. I’d gone to the Maldives for our honeymoon, thinking it would be the worst month of my life. We’d come back changed.
I shook my head. I didn’t want to think about the past. A few months where we didn’t want to kill each other didn’t mean that this was going to work as a marriage. Not how I’d thought in those days. No, this was arranged. We had the contract and prenup to prove it. No point thinking about what could have been. Not with the present circumstances.
Which meant that I was going to this dinner as a formality. A courtesy really.
Camden Percy didn’t care about me. Not more than anything else he’d purchased with his billion dollar fortune. I wouldn’t forget it again.
I stuffed my phone into my black patent leather Hermés bag, double-checked my ruby red lipstick, and headed for the door. With my armor in place, I left my apartment ready to handle myself in this shit show. Just like everything always was with Camden.
Traffic was a nightmare. Thank god I wasn’t stuck in Camden’s limo. Though I didn’t much prefer the taxi either. My foot tapped impatiently on the floor of the cab as I texted with Lark.
Miss you already!
Below that message was a picture of Lark, English, and Whitley in bikinis doing shots poolside. Bitches.
Stop having fun without me!
Enjoy your anniversary dinner. We’ll see you soon.
Soon. But not soon enough. Not only did I have to endure this dinner. I’d already agreed to do Christmas Eve dinner with Camden’s family. I couldn’t think of something that I liked less, but Camden had insisted. So, I was going.
Finally, the cab pulled up in front of the building. Prime was located on the thirty-fifth floor with impeccable views of Manhattan and the most expensive steak in the city. Camden had taken me here on our first “date.” The rich interior and three hundred dollar bottle of wine hadn’t convinced me that this wasn’t a business deal any more than it did today. I was just a new sort of client for him. A new challenge.
I headed inside, bypassing the man at the front who greeted me. I already knew which table Camden would claim. The one where we were most visible.
And there he was.
He was seated at the center table against the floor to ceiling glass. The panoramic view was stunning. Nearly as stunning as my husband.
He was pure control. It was outlined in every inch of his Savile Row suit. The broad sweeps of his shoulders, the tight lines of his muscular thighs, the sharp cut of the suit to his narrow waist. His hand cradled a glass of red wine with all the delicacy of a new born baby, but I knew that his proclivities leaned toward destruction rather than comfort.
I forced myself to keep moving as his keen eyes landed on me in my skin-tight black Elizabeth Cunningham dress. They crawled over my long lean legs, my slim hips, waist, and perfectly perky fake breasts, the best money could buy. Then finally, finally to my face.
He was blank. I wondered what he saw when he looked at me. What went on in that head of his. He was calculated and strategic in every aspect of his life. But I never actually knew what he was thinking. He never yielded an inch. Not now either.
He stood when I reached him and wrapped a possessive arm around my waist. “You made it,” he said as he pressed a kiss to my cheek.
I swallowed. “I said I’d be here.”
“Nice dress.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “It’s new.”
“I like it.”
I stepped out of his grasp. What was he playing at? I couldn’t read him. I had no idea if he was just making fun of me. He’d made fun of my shopping habit enough over the last year. I didn’t need it on the night of our anniversary, too.
“Sit,” he commanded, gesturing to the table. “I ordered your favorite wine.”
The sommelier appeared then to pour me a glass, and it was my favorite. I was surprised. He didn’t normally bother. Just let me order for myself. Usually vodka because being in his presence after the shit from the last year was excruciating in so many ways. I wondered what the catch was.
“You’re late,” he said after the sommelier left.
“Traffic.” I raised one shoulder and glanced down at my menu. A hundred dollar steak sounded appetizing with mashed potatoes and macaroni and cheese. My stomach grumbled, but I ignored it. Too many carbs. I’d be sick as a dog if I ate any of that.
“I could have picked you up.”
“We’ve already been through this,” I said, scanning the menu for the salads.
The waiter appeared then with a warm smile to take their order.
“I’ll take the 28-day aged dry rub rib eye, medium-rare, with béarnaise sauce,” Camden ordered without even looking at the menu. “Scallop potatoes and green beans.”
“Yes, sir. Excellent,” the waiter said, taking his menu. “And you, Miss?”
“Greek salad. Dressing on the side.”
I offered up the menu. Camden eyes smoldered.
“A salad?” he asked.
I shrugged. “I’m not that hungry.”
He looked up at the waiter. “Bring her a steak too.”
“Yes, sir,” he said before departing.
“I don’t need you to order for me,” I growled.
“You need to eat. You look like you lost more weight.”
I rolled my eyes and flung my hair over a shoulder, taking a long sip of my wine. “Most people think that’s a good thing, Camden. I’ve been working out with this new trainer. It’s clearly paying off.”
“Well, I’m sure your trainer will tell you that you need to eat more calories to make up for the deficit.”
“I do protein shakes,” I said dismissively.
“Katherine…”
“You know I didn’t come here for you to be an ass about my eating habits,” I said evenly.
“Fine,” he snarled.
The conversation lapsed as we waited for our food. But I helped myself to more wine. I was into my third glass, feeling the first hints of a buzz when our food showed up. I accepted the salad first and let them put the steak down next to it. It did look good, but fuck, it was so much food. No way was I going to finish that.
“Are you excited about the resort?” Camden asked, breaking the silence.
“Yes,” I said flatly. “I’d already be here if I wasn’t here.”
Camden’s face hardened into stone. “Poor thing.”
“I’m almost used to it.”
“Coul
d you cut the attitude for one night, Katherine?”
“Me?” I asked with a half laugh, stabbing my fork into my salad.
“Yes, you. Do we have to fight each other through this entire dinner? Can we not just enjoy yourselves?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know, Camden. Can we? Have we ever?”
“We did in the Maldives.”
I pointed my fork at him. “That was different and you know it.”
“Why does it have to be?”
“You know why,” I ground out.
“Because you ran back to Penn?” he spat.
I stopped breathing. “And you ran back to Fiona,” I challenged. “I haven’t forgotten Halloween.”
“Katherine…”
“Why don’t we just eat before the food gets cold? Save our cheery disposition for later.”
Camden lapsed into silence as he dug into his steak. The bloody thing looking like something he’d massacred in his rage rather than something that he should be eating. But the turn of the conversation just made me feel sicker. I didn’t touch the steak just picked around at my salad. I’d lost my appetite.
Silence lingered as our plates were cleared.
“Dessert?” the waiter asked eagerly.
“I’ll pass,” I said.
His jaw clenched. “No. Just the check.”
“As you wish, sir.”
“I thought that you liked their bread pudding,” Camden said.
“I just couldn’t stomach the carbs.” I shrugged. “Next time.”
Camden paid the check while I polished off our third bottle of wine. I was feeling good now. This dinner wasn’t half as bad I’d thought. Not that I thought the night was going to get better from here.
I set down my empty glass and began to rise, but Camden halted me. “Wait.”
I sank back down and arched my eyebrows.
Camden reached into his suitcoat and pulled out a small navy blue box with the letters HW on the front. Harry Winston. Shit.
