Fake Empire (Kensingtons Book 1)
Fake Empire: Chapter 20

My small, dysfunctional family is already seated when we board the plane bound for the Alps. My father raises both eyebrows when he takes in the pile of luggage and the dog we have in tow but doesn’t comment.

Candace squeals. “What a cute puppy! Did you just get him?”

“No, we’ve had him for a couple of months,” I reply. I don’t have the relationship with Candace—with any of my immediate family—where I’d announce the arrival of a canine companion.

My stepmother is too busy petting Teddy to reply. The staff is moving efficiently about the jet, stowing our suitcases and preparing for takeoff.

I take a seat across from my father. “Hi, Dad.”

“That animal better not have an accident on here,” he comments, sipping at some amber liquid, although it’s not even noon.

Teddy tends to get overexcited easily, but I don’t mention that.

Scarlett is still standing by the door, talking to one of the stewardesses. She nods and then heads for me, taking the seat next to mine. “Merry Christmas, Arthur.”

My father grunts.

Despite the fact it’s warm on the plane, Scarlett leaves her down coat on. She’s visibly pregnant now, with a slight bump that I replace to be the sexiest sight in the world. There’s something primal and painfully arousing about the fact she’s pregnant with my child.

“No Oliver?”

“He’s running late,” Candace says, sitting down across the aisle. “Should be here soon.”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. Now that I know about her and Oliver…I can’t unknow it.

My brother shows up a few minutes into the awkward silence. His bags are stowed with the rest of ours as he greets us all and makes small talk with my father.

A couple of minutes later, we’re in the air. Teddy seems unbothered by the altitude, napping at Scarlett’s feet. She’s scrolling through something on her phone. I assume it’s work-related, but when I sneak a peek at the screen, I discover she’s looking at cribs.

I smile before starting to swipe through the documents on my tablet I downloaded to review.

We’re a few hours into the flight when the stewardess appears to serve lunch. She distributes each meal and then comes around with drinks. My father’s cognac gets refilled. Then it’s Candace’s turn. She rejects the offered alcohol with, “I can’t drink that. I’m pregnant.”

Total silence fills the cabin. Even my father looks up from the paper he was reading. “What did you say?”

“I’m pregnant, Arthur. Isn’t that exciting?”

Candace sounds bubbly and happy. My father looks shocked. Scarlett looks to me, wide-eyed. It’s the same announcement we were planning to make on this trip. Thunder stolen. But I realize why she looks so shocked when she glances at Oliver. His complexion has turned gray.

And all of a sudden, I realize…I’m not certain the baby is my father’s.

As soon as I have a chance to, I corner Oliver. We end up in the living room of the chalet, right between the elaborately decorated Christmas tree and a stunning view of the snow-capped mountains.

“Tell me there’s no chance it’s yours.”

He looks away. “I’ll talk to her.”

I swear. “Oliver, I swear to God, if you—”

“I know I fucked up, Crew. I don’t need the perfect son rubbing it in.”

“If perfect is not fucking our stepmother, then it’s a damn low bar,” I snap. “You need to handle this. Immediately. If Dad suspects… If Candace talks… This could be a total disaster. And it’s the last thing I need right now. I’ve got enough going on, with—”

“With what?”

I glance around to make sure we’re still alone. “Scarlett is pregnant.”

“Whoa.” Oliver blinks. “Are you sure…” My glare cuts him off. He clears his throat. “Right. Congrats.”

“Thank you. But between that and the Sullivan acquisition that’s supposed to go through right before then, this mess is the last thing I need to be worrying about.”

“The Sullivan acquisition is set to go through in April.”

“I know.”

Oliver counts backward, coming to the same conclusion I did when Scarlett’s doctor shared the conception date during our first visit—I knocked her up one of our first times. “Damn. Impressive work, little bro.”

I roll my eyes. “Keep it to yourself. I haven’t told Dad yet.”

“He’ll be fucking thrilled. More future CEOs.”

“I know.” And that’s why I haven’t told him, because some part of me wants him to be excited about becoming a grandfather, nothing else. I know that’s why Scarlett hasn’t told her parents either. “Deal with Candace, okay?”

Oliver nods. “Yeah, yeah. I will.”

Everyone else is already at the table in the formal dining room when Oliver and I walk into the room. I take a seat next to Scarlett, grabbing her thigh and giving it a quick squeeze. Her eyes are filled with questions she can’t ask and I can’t answer. Not here.

The servers bring out the first course.

My father appears to be in good spirits, which I’m surprised by. I’ve never gotten the impression he wanted more kids. He and Candace have only been married for a year, and I was surprised he chose to get married again at all. I didn’t think the news Candace is expecting would be welcome. And it complicates the possibility it’s not even his kid a whole lot.

Dinner is filled with forced pleasantries and discussions of the itinerary for the coming week.

“Can you ski?” I ask Scarlett, while my father presses Oliver about something involving golf. I’ve never made much of an attempt to understand the sport.

“Like a penguin,” she replies.

“So, you waddle?”

She rolls her eyes as she takes a bite of salad. “They navigate snow successfully, okay? Yes, I can ski.”

“Well?” I challenge.

“Let’s go on a black diamond tomorrow, and you’ll replace out.”

“Deal,” I reply, although there’s no chance I’ll be allowing my pregnant wife to ski down anything other than a bunny hill. I know that’s a battle we’ll have later—and elsewhere—considering Oliver is the only one who knows and she doesn’t know that he knows.

Dinner is followed by Torta di Pane, a lemony bread pudding that’s almost as good as the chocolate-covered biscuits I get here, and then everyone disperses. Candace claims jet lag and goes to lie down. Oliver disappears, hopefully to talk with Candace. Scarlett goes to let Teddy out. My dad takes a phone call.

I wander around the first floor until I end up in the study. I haven’t been to the chalet since last winter. This is my father’s favorite property, so I tend to avoid it. The holidays are usually the only time of year I visit.

The bookshelves and leather furniture look the same. I pour myself a drink from the bar cart in the corner and take a seat in one of the armchairs, looking out the glass doors that lead to the back patio. It’s snowing out. The exterior lights illuminate each individual flake as they drift down from the sky.

Scarlett comes into view, decked out in down and trudging through the foot of snow already piled on the ground from a storm before we arrived. Teddy bounces behind her, barking happily. I smile as Scarlett throws an orange tennis ball and Teddy bounds through the drifts after it.

The door to the study opens and my father walks in. He halts when he sees me, obviously expecting to replace the space empty.

“I can go,” I offer. Knowing him, he has work to get done.

He surprises me by saying “It’s fine,” and taking a seat in the other armchair. “You’ve already made yourself at home,” he adds, nodding toward the drink in my hand and sounding more like his usual self.

I watch Scarlett throw the tennis ball for Teddy again.

He follows my gaze, taking in the view of the snowy yard for the first time. “Seems like things are going well between you two.”

“They are.” I pause. “She’s pregnant.”

My father’s smile is wide and full and more genuine than I’ve seen in a long time. “Well, how about that? Nice work, son. Congratulations.”

I shift uncomfortably. Never did I ever think I would have to say this next part to my father as an adult. “Congratulations to you too. Candace seems excited.”

My father is silent for a few minutes, adding layers of awkwardness to what already existed. Finally, he speaks. “I had a vasectomy shortly after your mother died.”

“Oh.” Rather than address the implications of what he’s really saying—because fuck—I ask, “You didn’t want more kids?”

“Only with her.”

In the twenty-five years I’ve known him, it’s the most sentimental statement I’ve ever heard my father utter. “Mom would probably replace that romantic.”

Everything about this moment is bizarre: the small yet genuine smile on my father’s face, talking about my mother like she’s more than a ghost we stopped acknowledging as soon as her funeral ended, how it’s come about by way of his current’s wife revelation.

“No.” He swirls the whiskey in the tumbler, a move I recognize. A move I copy. “She’d be disappointed. So, so disappointed in me. Losing her was the worst thing I’ve experienced. I shunned everything that reminded me of her.”

I nod. Everyone, he means. “She’d forgive you, Dad.”

He hums a sound with a subtle undertone of thanks.

I glance outside to see Scarlett and Teddy have disappeared. “I should head upstairs. Scarlett is a light sleeper. I don’t want to wake her up.”

My father nods as I down the end of my drink and stand. I’m halfway to the door when he speaks. “Crew.”

I turn. “Yeah?”

He’s looking outside at the snow, not me. “Don’t mention any of this to Oliver. Candace isn’t one to turn down attention. There’s still a chance he’s not the father.” I’m sure I look like a goldfish. My mouth is gaping, but no sound comes out. He chuckles. Dark and ominous. “I wasn’t sure if you knew. Now I do.”

I don’t say what I’m thinking. That I didn’t think he knew. I want to ask if he’s planning to say anything to Oliver—or Candace—but I sort of don’t want to know. Mostly, I want to pretend this conversation never happened. “I suspected.”

He’s still staring at the yard. “You should probably request a paternity test yourself. Can’t be too careful.”

Any sympathy or understanding drains away like liquid down an open drain. If he wanted either, he shouldn’t have brought her into it. “You’re right, Dad. Mom would be disappointed in you.”

He doesn’t so much as flinch. “We need to talk more tomorrow, Crew.”

“Fine.” I walk out of the study and slam the door behind me.

When I enter the room I’m sharing with Scarlett, she’s a lump under the covers. Teddy is curled up in his crate in the corner. He sits up when I close the door behind me. I kneel beside his crate to scratch his ears through the bars. Scarlett is still in the same position when I stand. I walk into the bathroom to get ready for bed before sliding under the covers next to her.

I lie there and stare up at the ceiling I can’t see in the dark, trying to pinpoint exactly when my family became so screwed up. Whoever said money can’t buy happiness was clearly onto something. Most of the rich people I know are perpetually unhappy. Wealth provides security. Too much money makes you feel untouchable. And that can easily become dangerous. Higher highs and lower lows.

“What time is it?” Scarlett’s groggy voice comes from my left.

“Little past eleven.”

She groans. “I went to bed a half hour ago.”

“I’m sorry. I tried to be quiet.”

“It’s not you. I never sleep well the first night in a new place.”

We lie in silence, side by side. This is my favorite part of every day: falling asleep beside her.

“Crazy about Candace, huh?”

I can’t muffle the snort that escaped. You have no idea.

“What?” she demands.

“My dad isn’t the father. But…Oliver might be.”

Silence. I wonder if she managed to fall back asleep in the thirty seconds it took me to answer her question. Then, I hear it. Muffled at first, until it becomes unmistakable.

Laughter. She’s laughing. Harder and less reserved than I’ve heard her. And maybe people are right about it being contagious—because I start laughing too.

A few minutes ago, when I climbed into bed, I was tense and uncertain and sad. Cynical about how little of privilege feels real. It’s zeroes in a bank account—nothing tangible. Complimenting people you can’t stand. Pretending you’re happy when you’re not.

Nothing about laughing with Scarlett feels fake. Not the sound of our amusement or the way I suddenly feel loose and light.

My father married Candace. Oliver slept with Candace. Candace made morally gray decisions. The only one I pity is the innocent child who will be affected by those choices.

“Remember when you told me your family wasn’t messy?”

I smile in the dark. “I didn’t see this coming.”

“How do you know your dad isn’t the father?”

“According to him, he got a vasectomy. Years ago, after my mom died.”

“You believe him?”

“I don’t see why he would lie.”

“And he never told Candace?”

“Doesn’t sound like it. I didn’t ask. I think he assumed it would only become an issue…”

“If she cheated,” Scarlett finishes.

“Right.”

“And how do you know Oliver might be the father?”

I sigh at the reminder. “He told me there’s a chance. I talked to him before dinner. He’s freaked out by Candace’s announcement…to say the least.”

Scarlett scoffs. “Yeah, I guess he would be.”

“I told my dad you’re pregnant,” I blurt. “Before we talked about everything else.” That seems like an important distinction to make, given what everything else entails.

“Did he tell you to get a paternity test?” It’s not what I’m expecting her response to be, and the surprise shocks me silent, giving her the correct answer. “Wow.”

I stumble through my thoughts, trying to figure out how to respond. I’ve been careful when it comes to Scarlett and feelings. Not to accumulate them, because I’ve stacked up plenty. But to express them. I think about her constantly: when I eat, when I’m at work, when I jerk off. I don’t pay attention to other women. My mood revolves around hers. I know what all that adds up to. But I love you and paternity test aren’t two phrases that belong in the same conversation.

“I don’t need a paternity test.”

“Do you want one?” she counters.

“No. No,” I repeat. I reach over and tug her toward me, so her back is to my front. I rest my palm on her stomach, cradling the slight swell.

“I trust you, Red.” Short of the l-word, it’s the strongest declaration I can make. The list of people I trust—unequivocally—is a short one. It starts and ends with her. “With everything. About everything.”

For an agonizing moment, she’s silent and still. Then she shifts away. I roll onto my back, accepting the distance she clearly wants. But the sheets keep moving. I feel them yank and loosen as I squint over at her side of the bed, trying to figure out what she’s doing.

I get my answer when her body presses against mine. Heat radiates from her skin as she twists so she’s lying more on me than the mattress. My arm curls around her involuntarily, and I realize she’s now naked.

She reaches into my boxers and pulls out my cock. I groan. “Scarlett…”

“I can’t fall asleep without this now,” she informs me. “Without you. It’s fucking annoying.”

My lips turn up into a grin I doubt she can see. “It’s fucking something.”

Then I’m swallowing her moans with my mouth and spreading her legs with my hips and pushing inside her with a groan. We both come in minutes, using each other in an unfamiliar yet familiar way. There aren’t any dirty words or daring positions. It’s sweet without nothings. Tender without lingering touches. Quick without rushing.

Scarlett stays tangled on my side of the bed after we’ve both come. I run my fingers through the long, silky strands of her hair, matching my breathing to hers. It’s deep and even. I think she’s fallen back asleep—until she speaks. “I trust you too.”

I keep combing through her hair, feeling those four words expand in my chest. I know that she does. She’s told me so before. More importantly, she’s shown it—when she trusted me about Hannah. But I’ll never get sick of hearing it.

My limbs grow heavy as I relax into the mattress. I’m close to sleep, maybe already asleep, when the sharp screech of an alarm jerks me alert.

Scarlett tenses. “What is that?”

“I think it’s the fire alarm.” I climb out of bed, trying to stay calm when I’m anything but. There are fireplaces in every room of the chalet. One stray spark can ignite fast. Visions of scorched walls and raging flames fill my head. I shove worst-case scenarios away as I climb out of bed and get dressed in a pair of joggers and a sweatshirt.

Scarlett is sitting up in bed, still naked. I toss a pair of sweatpants onto the bed. “Put those on.” It takes a minute, but she does. I pick her silk nightgown up off the ground and pull it over her head. Her down coat is draped over a chair. I help her into it rather than rely on her doing it herself.

“It’s probably a false alarm,” she tells me.

“You think that’s a risk I would take with you?”

She doesn’t reply, just steps into the snow boots I set out for her. I grab Teddy’s leash and collar and open his crate. He bounds out, thrilled by this development. Must be nice to be a dog—woefully oblivious to what might go wrong. Eternally optimistic.

I usher Scarlett toward the door. When I open it, I half-expect for there to be smoke and flames. The hallway appears empty and untouched. But the scent of smoke does hang in the air. My grip on Scarlett’s hand and Teddy’s leash remain tight as we walk down the hall and the stairs. The smoke is thicker downstairs. I can actually see it swirling in the air, rather than just smell it.

The front door is wide open. I herd my little family outside. Oliver, my father, and Candace are all huddled out on the front porch.

“What’s going on?” I basically bark, looking at the exterior of the chalet. It appears untouched, the stone façade and soaring windows showing no signs of fire or charred damage.

“Candace was trying to make cookies.” My father’s voice is dry. Unimpressed.

“Oh.”

“I’m so sorry,” Candace says. “I don’t know what happened.” She eyes our mismatched outfits. “You all were already in bed?”

I nod.

Scarlett is falling asleep against me by the time the alarm is shut off and the house has been aired out. She stumbles her way up the stairs, resisting my attempts to carry her. Stubborn, as always.

We reach our room and she pulls off her clothes, leaving them as a trail across the carpet. I put Teddy in his crate and get undressed again, sliding back into bed beside her.

“Not exactly an uneventful trip, huh?” Scarlett teases, as she rolls over and rests her head on my chest.

I chuckle. “Not exactly.”

I’m nearly asleep when I hear a buzzing sound. Scarlett stirs. I quickly grab my phone, intent on silencing it. But the screen is black.

More buzzing. Scarlett scoots back to her side of the bed and grabs her phone. Twin lines appear between her eyes as she squints at the screen.

“It’s my mom.” She answers. “Mom?”

Even before she speaks again, I know something is wrong. Her shoulders tense and her lips press together.

“Okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She ends the call. Drops her phone on the bed. Stares blankly ahead. “My dad had a heart attack. He’s in surgery.”

I throw the covers back. “Let’s go.”