Riled (The Invincibles Book 4)

by Heather Slade

  “That ought to go over well.”

  “Why not?”

  “Bored family member comes in and demands a job. Come on, be serious.”

  “What do you think Whit did?”

  “What do you mean? What about my father?”

  “Who do you think publishes all those bloody photography books of his?”

  I hadn’t really thought about it, but Whitby Press did. “He’s talented.”

  “Not that talented.”

  “They must make money, or they wouldn’t do it.”

  “Right.” She shook her head.

  “Are you saying they lose money on my father’s books? I’m sure someone would’ve said so in one of the board meetings.”

  She shook her head a second time. “They have plenty of other books that make up for it, I’m sure. Could you imagine, Kenz? ‘Oh, by the way, Miss Whitby, so glad you could join us today so we could talk to you about how long your father’s books have been bleeding us dry.’ Seriously, what do you think?”

  I didn’t know what to think, but I certainly planned to look into it.

  “Besides, you read more than anyone I know. Anyone I’ve ever known.”

  I would confess to being a voracious reader. Always had been. As an only child, it gave me something to do. Plus, Gran Bea always had a book going. “I do enjoy reading very much.”

  “See? Call them tomorrow. Now, what are your other ideas?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You said ‘some ideas.’ What are the others?”

  “The others weren’t for jobs per se.”

  “So?”

  “I’ve been thinking of getting more involved in some charities. I was so moved by the visit to the hospital in Madrid Christmas night, weren’t you?”

  Teagon smiled but didn’t comment.

  “What now?”

  “I’m proud of you, Kenz. You’re a grown-up.”

  “Sod off.”

  “Don’t take offense. I’m serious.”

  “That until now I’ve been a child?”

  “That until now you hadn’t found your way.”

  “That’s what Gran Bea used to say.”

  Teagon shrugged. “Great minds and all that.”

  “More wine?” Maybe I could share after all.

  “Nah, better not. I need to go out and give the guys the new schedule.”

  “What?”

  “Oh, come on, Kenz. You really didn’t think that it was you, Casper, and me all alone since we’ve been here. Z added to your detail shortly after we arrived back in London.”

  “Who else is here?”

  “No one from Rile’s team, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “Who, then?”

  “MI5.”

  “How many?”

  “Just two, but soon to be three.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Just two, but soon to be three. This is bloody ridiculous. I’m not this important.”

  Teagon stood when I did and hugged me. “You’re far more important than you realize, Kensington Whitby.”

  “Why did you ask Casper to leave if you knew Z would add another person from MI5?”

  “Because it’s what you wanted, Kenz. Look, I understand. She works for Rile. Her being here was a connection to him. Honestly, it was time she left anyway. Best that your detail is handled solely by SIS now.”

  I went upstairs and attempted to power up my laptop. First, I had to find the cord. I had no idea the last time I’d used it.

  After the computer finally came on and I’d sorted through the first few of thousands of emails, I searched for the most recent communications I’d received from Whitby Press.

  I opened one of the financial reports and groaned when I saw it was over one hundred pages. I skimmed the first few, didn’t understand a single thing I’d read, and decided that should be my first request—that someone explain the damn things to me.

  In the meantime, I went to one of the more popular online booksellers and searched my father’s name. Good Lord! My dad, Michael Alexander Whitby, had more than thirty books for sale online. I scrolled through the most popular ones and bit my bottom lip. Even without understanding the quarterly financial reports of Whitby Press, I could figure out that if his most popular book was ranked above a million on the bestseller list, he probably didn’t sell even one book a month.

  The next morning, I did as Teagon suggested and rang Whitby Press to ask for a meeting. I was shocked when, after asking me to hold for a moment and before I’d even explained my reason for calling, I was transferred to none other than the managing director himself—a man who had only recently been promoted to the position and who was highly qualified despite his young age.

  “Kensington, this is Lincoln Mulrooney. What a delight to hear from you.”

  I explained the reason for my call, saying that I had a few questions about the latest reports and also wished to meet with someone regarding potential job openings.

  “My day is quite booked, but what about this evening? We could meet for dinner at Five Hertford at, say, eight?”

  “I don’t want to disturb you in the evening, Mr. Mulrooney. Tomorrow would be fine. Or another day this week.”

  “My days are typically tightly scheduled. It would be far easier if we were to meet after.”

  Asking how he was able to finagle a membership at the exclusive Five Hertford club would make me sound like a bloody snob, but I couldn’t help but wonder how he had.

  “You’d be pleased to know that I’m having dinner this evening with Whitby Press’ managing director,” I told Teagon when I came downstairs in search of breakfast.

  “Linc Mulrooney?”

  “Linc? First name basis with him, are you?”

  “It’s commonly known that’s what he goes by.”

  “What else do you know about him?”

  “He’s hot as fuck. Smart as all bloody hell.”

  “Nice language, Teag.”

  “Since when are you, of all people, such a prude?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing. Never mind.”

  “No. You called me out. I want to know why.”

  “I was wrong. Stupid thing to say.” When her cheeks flushed red, I knew that whatever she was referring to had something to do with Cortez. So, yes, I’d drop it.

  “We’re meeting at Five Hertford.”

  Her eyebrows went up practically to her hairline.

  “That’s what I thought. I know it makes me sound awful, but what’s his connection?”

  “I’ll see what I can find out, but whatever it is, must be a closely guarded secret or I’d already know.”

  I’d never had any secrets from Teagon, but the idea that Cortez or any of her other colleagues knew everything about me, pissed me off. Not that I could do anything about it. I was connected to the Queen, and my life had always been an open book—to SIS anyway.

  “What time are you meeting?”

  “Eight.”

  Teagon said she’d make the necessary security arrangements for my meeting with Mulrooney. However, neither she nor any of the other security people would be permitted entrance to the club. Perhaps if the Queen herself was dining there, her team would be permitted entrance, but she’d never put herself or the other members of Five Hertford through that sort of thing.

  I hadn’t been to the club since my grandfather passed away. My eyes filled with tears when I walked through the unmarked door after the maître d’ opened it.

  “Miss Whitby, it is such a pleasure to see you again.” The man and I cheek-kissed. “We miss your grandparents very much.”

  Not more than I. “Thank you, Ford.”

  “I believe you’re meeting Mr. Mulrooney. He’ll be waiting in the lounge, Miss.”

  I thanked him again and followed him to the spiral staircase that would take me downstairs. I would typically avert my eyes when walking past the various dining rooms, but when a familiar feeling came over me, I couldn’t
help but look. In the corner, sat Cortez with a strikingly beautiful woman I didn’t recognize. He was so enthralled by whatever she was saying, he didn’t look up and see me.

  “I’ve a request that we not be seated in the library this evening. I wouldn’t normally make a fuss, but in this case, I’d consider it a personal favor if you’d arrange for us to sit elsewhere.”

  “Yes, Miss Whitby.”

  I knew from his response that the library was exactly where our table had been reserved. I couldn’t possibly sit in the same room with Cortez and another woman. If there was no other option, I’d be forced to feign illness and leave.

  Lincoln Mulrooney stood when he saw me approach. “You look lovely, Kensington.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I took the liberty,” he said, handing me a glass of wine. I took a sip and recognized it immediately as one of my favorites. It was exactly what I would’ve ordered for myself. “I was pleased to receive your call earlier,” he said, leading me to a table and pulling out a chair for me.

  “You may not be when you learn what I’d like to discuss.”

  “You said you had questions about the reports you receive?”

  “Yes, but it was my other reason for calling that you may find harder to address.”

  “About working for Whitby Press? Not in the least. Speaking for myself along with the rest of the management team as well as the members of the board, we’d be delighted to have you on staff, in whatever capacity you desire.”

  “Why?”

  He set his glass of wine on the table and leaned forward.

  “Why, indeed. I pose the same question to you.”

  “But you didn’t answer mine.”

  “I only had the pleasure of meeting your grandfather one time. However, he did little besides extol your virtues. Whitby Press could only benefit from your direct involvement.”

  “As it does my father’s?”

  He laughed. “It is with the deepest respect for his talent that we continue to publish your father’s work.”

  “Would there ever come a time when you’d refuse to do so?”

  He smiled at me with warm brown eyes, and my heart nearly melted. Teagon was right. Mr. Mulrooney was hot as fuck. He would be the perfect model on the covers of the books Whitby published, at least in the romance genre. He would also serve as an outstanding example for any non-fiction book about the world’s most handsome man, or how to work twelve hours a day and maintain a bodybuilder’s physique.

  His hair and beard were salt and pepper, belying his age. I couldn’t remember exactly how old he was, other than being surprised when someone quoted it to me.

  “I’d give anything to know what you’re thinking right now.”

  “You’re ridiculously handsome,” I said without apology. It wasn’t a compliment; it was a statement of fact.

  “Thank you, Kensington. I feel that opens things up for me to very unprofessionally tell you, you are the single most-attractive woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

  “Thank you.” After seeing Cortez upstairs, my bruised heart and ego were soothed by Lincoln’s praise.

  He cleared his throat. “While having dinner for the sake of enjoying your company would be exceedingly pleasurable, you did have things you wished to discuss.”

  “My apologies for—”

  He rested his hand on mine. “Please, no apologies, Kensington, about anything.”

  “Excuse me, Mr. Mulrooney, Miss Whitby, your table is ready whenever you are,” said Ford when he approached our table.

  “Shall we?”

  Ford cleared his throat. “Sir, a change in rooms has been necessitated. I hope there is no inconvenience.”

  “None at all,” he responded, but I could see faint lines etched in his forehead.

  “It was per my request,” I explained.

  He nodded and put his hand on the small of my back as we followed Ford up the stairs, past the library, and to the most private of Five Hertford’s dining rooms.

  “Allow me,” Lincoln said before Ford could help me with my chair. “I much prefer this room. Thank you,” he leaned forward and whispered.

  Once we were alone, I felt it only fair I explain why I’d made the request. “There was someone seated in the library…”

  He smiled and rested his hand on mine a second time. “Say no more. I’ll consider it my good fortune.”

  28

  Rile

  The very moment Kensington entered the building, I felt her presence. I would have regardless of whether I had been expecting her or not.

  “Is that the woman everyone in the family has been talking about?” asked my cousin Serena.

  “Yes. Also the one I told you about earlier.” Serena had asked me to join her for dinner this evening, but after I received word that Kensington would be here, I explained to my cousin why I was changing the venue.

  “She’s lovely.”

  My cousin and I returned to our discussion about her impending divorce, the reason she’d asked me to dinner, and what she was requesting from me.

  “I would do anything for you, Serena. You know this. However, looking deeper into your husband’s infidelity will only serve one purpose, and that will be to hurt you.”

  “I have to know, Cortez.”

  “Why? Your prenuptial agreement ensures he won’t get a penny of your money.” I scrubbed my face with my hand, wishing I had a better argument to talk her out of what she was asking. “Go out and find your own happiness instead. Knowing will only make you bitter.”

  “It looks as though she’s finding her own happiness as well.” My cousin motioned with her head toward the hallway where Kensington was being escorted to a different dining room by Lincoln Mulrooney, the managing director of Whitby Press.

  Evidently, she’d seen me when she came in. That would be the only explanation for the change in dining rooms.

  “What about finding your own happiness, Cort? How will you do that when you are so in love with her?”

  I brushed my lower lip with my fingertip. I could feel Kensington’s pain, and it was my fault. What had I been thinking by showing up here tonight? The only thing I’d achieved was add to the sorrow Kensington and I were both already feeling.

  My cousin was, thankfully, the most talkative person in our family, so we didn’t suffer through awkward silence while my mind was elsewhere.

  In the same way I knew when she arrived, I also knew when Kensington left.

  “Shall we?” I said a few minutes later.

  Serena reached across the table and covered my hand with hers. “Cortez, as much as you don’t want to see me hurt, I don’t want you to be either. Tell this woman how you feel about her. I know you will be happy you did. So will she.”

  I was in the midst of a workout the next day when I received a call from Grinder.

  “Hello, my friend. I assume all is well with you and Pia?”

  “You don’t have to assume, Rile,” he laughed. “You know they are. You probably also know the reason for my call.”

  “Enlighten me.”

  When Grinder asked me to stand beside him as his best man, I was overcome with unexpected emotion. “I would be proud, my friend.”

  “Neither of us is good at this kind of conversation. Actually, you probably are, but I’m not. However, it’s important to me that you know why I’m asking.”

  He paused, but I was too choked up to speak.

  “You’re the one who convinced me I could be this happy, Rile. If you hadn’t been your typical bloody blunt self, I may never have had the courage to face my demons head-on, but more importantly, to share them with the woman I love so that, together, we could overcome them. Not mine, but hers too. Thank you, Rile. I know Pia shares my appreciation for you and reveres you in the same way I do.”

  “You would have found your way with or without my influence. You and Pia are meant to be together. You have been since the day you met.”

  It was on a summer holiday with
his parents when my friend and business partner had met the woman who would soon be his wife. They’d both been sixteen at the time, and while life had handed them each more than their share of tragedies, the fact that they were together and happy was all that mattered now.

  “When is the wedding?”

  “The first week of May.”

  29

  Kensington

  The first week I spent at Whitby Press was equally exhausting and exhilarating. Linc arranged for a desk to be added to his office, and every day for the last month, he and I had worked side by side as I learned about the publishing house that had been in my family for generations.

  I still had no idea what he saw in me that made him believe I was cut out to work here, but he spent enough time praising and reassuring me over the course of the last six weeks that, little by little, I stopped doubting myself.

  After our dinner at Five Hertford, we both backed off of anything flirtatious, and I was grateful. I still found him attractive, but I wasn’t attracted to him. I wondered if it was too soon after Cortez, or if I’d always feel that no man who could ever take his place in my heart.

  It wasn’t into Whitby Press alone that I’d thrown myself in order to keep my mind off the man who had broken my heart. I’d also become a volunteer at Great Ormond Street Hospital for children. Known to most as GOSH, the almost-two-hundred-year-old facility was one of the world’s leading childhood disease research centers.

  As Cortez had suggested, I found the thing I was best at was offering support to the parents of children in hospital, the mothers in particular.

  While I’d suggested to Teagon that she could resign her position as my personal bodyguard, she was intransigent that, when that time came, it would be her boss who instructed her to do so. She promised she wasn’t going mad with boredom since I spent all my time either in the office or at the hospital.

  While being so busy kept me from thinking of Cortez every minute of the day, the pain of missing him was ever-present.