“I’m not the one who needs to make amends,” I said. There were only so many times a guy could try before he gave up, and I’d reached my limit years ago. “Anyway, good talk, but I have somewhere else to be.”
“Xavi—”
“Safe travels home.” I turned. “Say hi to everyone else for me.”
“It’s your family’s company,” Eduardo called after me. He sounded resigned. He’d only taken the interim CEO position because I’d turned it down, and I knew he clung to the hope that I’d magically “come to my senses” about continuing the family legacy one day. “You can’t run from it forever.”
I didn’t break my stride.
With the ceremony done, the gala was basically over, which meant I wouldn’t be breaking my deal with Sloane if I left.
The reminder of her and where she was right now—probably on some date with some asshole—darkened my already-thunderous mood.
I usually tried to look on the bright side, but fuck it, sometimes a guy had to wallow.
I grabbed my jacket from coat check and climbed into one of the black cabs waiting outside the event space.
“Neon,” I said, naming the city’s hottest new nightclub. “I’ll tip you a hundred pounds if you can get me there in under fifteen minutes.”
The cab pulled away from the curb. I stared out the window at the passing lights of London, eager for the moment I could drink away any thoughts of Eduardo, my father, and a certain publicist who occupied my waking moments far more than she should.
CHAPTER 3
Sloane
The “red man” signal warning pedestrians not to cross the road stared me down. I ignored it and power walked across the street, tuning out the blaring car horn of an oncoming truck.
I was already late, and if I didn’t take off my shoes soon, my bloodied feet would kill me faster than getting hit by a car. Four-inch stilettos looked great, but they weren’t made for ten blocks of city walking.
Unfortunately, London traffic was a shitshow, so I’d ditched my cab after being stuck on the same street for twenty minutes.
By the time I reached the hotel, my dress was stuck to my body with sweat and I could barely feel my feet, but I made it to the penthouse without incident (unless I counted the other guests’ horrified stares).
Please don’t be asleep.
I knocked on the door, my heart in my throat.
Please don’t be asleep. Please don’t be—
My breath exhaled in a puff of relief when a familiar round face answered the door.
“There you are.” Rhea ushered me in, her eyes darting toward the entrance like George and Caroline would walk in at any minute. She put her job in jeopardy every time she texted me, but we both took our risks for the same reason. “I was afraid you couldn’t make it.”
“I got held up by traffic, but I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” I took off my shoes and sighed. Much better.
With Rhea’s help, I quickly cleaned my bloody feet before walking into the suite’s living room. My heart clenched when I saw her sitting on the floor, watching a kids’ cartoon about ballerinas. She always gravitated toward shows about dance or sports.
Her back faced me, but she must have had a sixth sense because she turned the instant I entered the room.
“Sloane!” Penny scrambled to her feet and ran toward me. “You came.”
“Of course I came.” I bent down to hug her. God, she’d grown so much since the last time I saw her.
She buried her face in my stomach, and if I could cry, I would’ve at how tightly she clung to me. Besides Rhea, I was probably her first hug of the day.
Her nanny left the room, giving us time alone, and I eventually, reluctantly released her so I could fish her gift out of my bag. “Happy birthday, Pen. This is for you.”
My half sister’s eyes lit up. She took the gift and unwrapped it, taking great care not to rip the silver-striped paper.
She was Penelope to her parents and Penny to everyone else, but she’d always be Pen to me. The sister I never knew I needed, the only one who’d cried when I left, and the only Kensington I still considered family after my grandmother died.
She finished unwrapping the gift, and her delighted gasp brought a smile to my face.
“The new American Sports doll!” She clutched the precious item to her chest. “How did you get this?”
“I know people. Your older sister is pretty cool, you know,” I teased.
The limited-edition doll was one of the most sought-after toys in the world. There were only two dozen in existence, but my friend Vivian’s husband pulled some strings and got me one in time for Pen’s birthday.
She couldn’t play with it openly, but one of the upsides to her parents’ neglect was that they wouldn’t notice or question how she’d gotten the toy.
“So, how does nine feel?” I sat next to her on the floor. “You’re almost in the double digits.”
“Gross. Soon I’ll be old like you—ah!” Pen erupted into hysterical giggles when I tickled her side. “Stop! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” She gasped. “You’re not that old.”
“That’s what you get for insulting me,” I quipped, but I stopped tickling her, mindful not to overexert her. I always trod a line between treating her like a normal kid while knowing she wasn’t, at least not in terms of physical stamina.
