Real Regrets (Kensingtons Book 2)
Real Regrets: Chapter 5

Garrett stands and waves as soon as I walk into the steakhouse. I bypass the hostess with a polite nod, weaving around tables and past wine displays until I reach the far corner of the restaurant. The lighting in here is dim, a relief to my eyes after the few blocks from the hotel past the bright, flashing colors of the Strip.

I unbutton my suit jacket and take a seat in the open chair. “Sorry, I got caught—”

Garrett shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, man. We all get how it is.”

“No, we don’t. Don’t lump me in with you boring businessmen,” Chase comments, reaching out to grab the bottle of bourbon sitting in the center of the table and pouring himself another drink.

“How could any of us forget you skate after a rubber circle for a living?” Garrett replies, grinning at his younger brother.

Chase flips him off.

I glance between them. The Andersons are old money. But Garrett is a self-made multi-millionaire, thanks to the tech company he founded after college. And Chase plays hockey professionally.

Maybe that’s why they have such a different sibling dynamic than Crew and I do. We both went into the family business, working for a father who thrives on manipulation. We have too much common ground in some ways and absolutely none in others.

As Chase and Garrett continue to banter back and forth, it’s noticeable to me in a way it never has been before. I’m comparing it to my conversation with Crew last night, bothered by the many differences.

“Your old man doesn’t believe in a Friday night off?” Edmund Lee asks from my left.

When I glance over, he’s smiling. It’s the guarded, hesitant one I’m accustomed to seeing aimed my way.

Most people are either intimidated or intrigued by the Kensington name, and Edmund’s expression says he’s the former. He works at Garrett’s tech company as a high-level executive, meaning he would be the wealthiest and most successful person at every table in here…except ours.

“Business doesn’t sleep,” I respond, opening up my menu and scanning the cuts of meat listed.

I took the work call for a couple of reasons. One, I was the only one who could answer the question since I’ve been handling that contract personally. Two, it was a reprieve from the chaotic debauchery that started as soon as I met up with the rest of the bachelor party attendees. Aside from Garrett, no one had much confidence I’d be here, based on the amount of surprise that greeted my arrival.

“That’s true.” Edmund chuckles. “Rumors are going around that you’re negotiating with Thompson & Thompson.”

I close the menu, having decided on the New York Strip with a peppercorn rub. That pharmaceutical company was partly what the call was about, so my expression is carefully blank as I look at Edmund. “Kensington Consolidated negotiates with a lot of companies.”

Edmund studies me, clearly looking for some signal. My expression remains carefully blank. If Edmund is smart, he should buy some stock.

“Is your father still deliberating on the next CEO?”

“Yes.”

If Edmund is trying to annoy me, he’s doing a damn good job.

But his voice is all curiosity, not malice. The passing of power at companies like Kensington Consolidated is usually predetermined, like a line of succession in royal families. From the age I understood the concept of leadership, I should have been working toward taking on the CEO role. But even back when I was the firstborn son engaged to the billionaire bride, long before Candace, he never handed it over. That title was always dangled just out of reach. He wanted me to keep working for it. He wanted Crew prepared for the position too.

I reach forward and grab my water glass, hoping that will be the end of the conversation with Edmund. And that I won’t need to answer that same question five more times tonight.

While my father might have fun teasing business associates about how he has too many good options to succeed him and how he hopes retirement is a long way off, everything was decided in his mind as soon as the agreement between him and Hanson Ellsworth changed from me and Scarlett to Crew and Scarlett.

Being born two years earlier was nothing in comparison to being half of the power couple. If America had royalty, they’d be crowned king and queen. That kind of interest and charisma is gold when you’re asking people to do business with you.

And if I ever had any prayer of convincing my father that Crew could still be the face of the company while I claimed control, it disappeared the moment he found out about me and Candace. He might not have loved her, but my father is the proudest man alive. Trust is paramount, and betrayal is unforgiveable.

But officially announcing Crew as CEO isn’t as much fun for him as vague comments, so the rumors about who will take charge of Kensington Consolidated next continue swirling. And there’s another reason my father won’t officially announce his successor: he loves watching me squirm when people ask about it.

“I like Crew. But it should be you. From what I hear, you’ve earned it five times over.”

Edmund’s reasoning is unexpected. I know it was expected I’d be CEO. But no one has ever told me it was earned. And there’s a big difference between the two paths to success.

“Thanks.” I force a smile and sip some water, trying to hide how uncomfortable his unexpected comment made me.

The waitress arrives then, ending all the side conversations as we place our orders. Once she leaves, Chase launches into another run-through of the weekend plans. It’s obvious he spent a lot of time planning this trip. Chase knows the schedule without even looking at his phone, running through everything he has planned for the weekend in extensive detail.

Garrett laughs and shakes his head through most of it.

Service is fast. Chase reaches the end of his list right as our food arrives. My stomach grumbles as a plate of browned meat is set down in front of me, steam rising in curled ribbons. I skipped lunch to get as much done at the office as possible before leaving for the airport, so I’m starving.

Edmund strikes up a conversation with Levi Gamble while I dig into my dinner. Levi’s great-grandfather started a department store chain that still exists today. But Levi isn’t involved in the family business. He works for a media conglomerate, last I knew.

But Levi and Edmund aren’t discussing business. They’re talking about the model Levi is dating.

I continue cutting through the tender steak and listening to the babble of multiple conversations at the table.

I socialize and schmooze when I need to. When there’s someone to impress or a deal to close. As pathetic as it sounds, I don’t socialize just to be social. I’m more comfortable sitting back and observing, letting others be the center of attention.

“What about you, Oliver?” Levi asks, right after I’ve taken a bite of steak.

I chew and swallow. Sip some water. “What?”

“Are you dating anyone? I never see you out. Or Crew.”

I cut another piece of meat, focused on the plate. I’m surprised by how I immediately think of blonde hair and blue eyes. After tonight—assuming she shows—I’ll never see Hannah again. I’m definitely not dating her. But it’s been a while—forever, maybe—since a woman captured my attention as effortlessly and entirely as she did.

“Crew is married,” I reply, dodging the question.

Edmund chuckles before tossing back some whiskey. “We both know that doesn’t mean anything. Couples have arrangements.”

“They don’t have an arrangement,” I say, cutting my meat more aggressively.

“Of course not. He married Scarlett Ellsworth. Can you blame him?” Admiration fills Mason Jenkins’s voice before he knocks his water glass over. He just laughs, tossing his cloth napkin on the table in a half-hearted attempt to clean up the mess. “She’s a fucking—”

“Remember she’s my fucking sister, before you finish that sentence.”

All the other conversations at the table die off as Mason leans back in his chair, lifting both of his hands in an overdone show of passivity. I’ve never called Scarlett my sister before. Never even referred to her as my sister-in-law to someone. My family is messy and lacking a matriarch. But I consider Scarlett a part of it.

“Wasn’t she your fiancée first? Keeping it all in the family, Kensington?”

I flinch. The negotiations between my father and Hanson Ellsworth were never publicized, but plenty of people assumed Scarlett would be my bride, right up until her engagement to Crew was announced.

And Mason’s question hits home in a different way than he intended. My father buried the affair with Candace so deep it can never be dug up. Any other married woman, and it would have been dangled over my head in a lifetime of blackmail. But it embarrasses him too, even more than me. A dent to his pride, knowing his much younger wife looked elsewhere.

“Shut up, Mason. You weren’t invited to be a dick,” Chase says.

A few of the guys chuckle in response, and it breaks the sudden tension around the table. Conversations about cars and sports pick up again.

After dinner, we duck into a magic show taking place across the street. It’s mostly card tricks, and I focus on each flick of the magician’s hands, noting each flip and shuffle to catch the clues.

We’re all handed playing cards as we leave.

One side has the magician’s contact information, for marketing purposes. I smile to myself, imagining how my father and Crew would react if I hired Blaine Burke Magic to entertain at our next company event.

The other side looks like a normal playing card. I end up with a six of spades.

I slip the card into my pocket, playing with the thin edge as we walk along the sidewalk. Our destination looms up ahead, a giant, green champagne bottle with Cabaret written inside of it above the entrance. Yellow lights frame the windows, doors, and beige stucco siding.

Champagne Cabaret has a modest exterior in comparison to its immediate neighbors. To the left is a bar with pink panels attached to the siding, creating a rippling waterfall effect. To the right is a wedding chapel, white with a miniature imitation of Vegas’s iconic welcome sign out front.

A line has already formed to enter the club but we’re waved past it after Chase says something to the bouncer.

“City law says clubs can have full nudity or serve alcohol,” he tells us, beaming like a little kid on Christmas morning. “This is the only place that has both.”

“What’s the point of the law, then?” Garrett whispers to me.

I shake my head and smile, glancing around the interior of the club as we walk deeper inside. It’s even darker in here than the steakhouse was, all the furnishings in various shades of black that create a mysterious, sultry atmosphere. It feels like you could do anything in here and it would remain a secret in the shadows, which is the exact point.

“Whoa,” Mason breathes, looking upward.

I’m still annoyed with him, but I follow his gaze.

The ceiling is high, the interior not two stories like the outside suggests. Swings are suspended twenty feet overhead, the shiny metal flashing in the lights then rotate slowly around. There are women in lingerie perched on each swing, the wandering lights illuminating a glimpse of skin here and a peek of lace there. They move in perfect sync with the slow, sensual beat sliding out of the speakers, a rhythmic pulse that sounds like sex.

“That should be illegal,” Garrett says. But there’s an admiring note in his voice as he watches the hypnotic sight, which is reflected on every guy’s face here. “What if one of them falls?”

“They wear harnesses,” Chase says. “Don, the manager, told me all about their safety measures when I called to reserve everything. I’m not about to get suspended right before playoffs, just because I was in a club where a stripper died.”

Mason guffaws. Garrett rolls his eyes. “So glad you’ve got your priorities straight, little brother.”

“Hey, I still asked. Come on, this corner is us.”

We all follow Chase deeper into the club. Long leather booths section off large areas of the club, the black glimmering strings hanging above them almost translucent but not quite.

Chase leads us into one of the private areas. There’s a stage with a pole in the center of the room, and a bar set up in the corner with a bartender ready to mix drinks.

I sink down onto the leather booth that encircles the stage. It’s surprisingly comfortable, much plusher than the leather furniture in my living room. I lean back, trying not to think about the amount of bodily fluids the surface is likely coated with.

Garrett sinks down beside me a few minutes later, while most of the other guys linger around the bar waiting to be served. He got first drink as the groom, it looks like.

“Having fun?”

“Yeah, actually,” he replies. “Nice to get away. I’m glad you came.”

“Me, too.”

“Just wait,” Garrett says. “According to Chase, there’s…and yep.”

I follow his gaze. Five women are strutting toward the center stage. Five naked women. All they’re wearing are stilettos.

Chase whoops, from his spot by the bar. The beat quickens and changes as the women fall into a choreographed routine, each movement purposeful and erotic.

“Fuck. I thought Chase was kidding about half of this,” Garrett tells me, taking a sip of what smells like straight vodka. His gaze is fixed on the brunette spinning around the pole. “Which one should I bring back to the hotel?”

I glance over at him, startled.

Garrett’s head rolls to the left to look at me, a lazy grin appearing. I’m pretty sure I’m the only semi-sober one in the group. Aside from the whiskey I had at the hotel bar, I haven’t had a drop to drink. But I didn’t realize how drunk Garrett is, until right now.

“That’s your plan?” I scrub all judgment from my voice, but I’m surprised. Garrett met his fiancée after we graduated. I’ve only met Sienna a few times, and one of them was Scarlett and Crew’s wedding. She was the wedding planner.

None of those times did I get the impression they have an open relationship.

“If she’s sleeping with other people, why shouldn’t I?”

I blink at him, even more shocked. “Sienna cheated on you?”

“Yep.”

“Are you…sure?” Not the most sympathetic response, but it’s the first question that pops into my head.

He laughs, darkly. “Yeah. I’m sure. Hard to mistake seeing another man balls deep in your fiancée on your bed.”

I’m starting to wish I was drunk. “I’m sorry, man.”

Garrett nods. “Yeah.” He pauses. “You didn’t ask why I’m still marrying her.”

“I… Not really any of my business.”

He slouches lower, eyes back on the women dancing. His expression droops as well, weighted down by alcohol and sadness. “You’re the only person I’ve told. Figured that was the first question someone would ask.”

“You love her, right?”

Garrett takes a long drink. “I don’t know, anymore. She says she loves me. That I’m always working, and it was a mistake. But can you cheat on someone you love?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been in love.”

But I have slept with a woman who was committed to another man. I have more in common with Sienna’s lover than Garrett in this situation, and that’s a bitter realization to have.

“You always were smarter than me, Oliver.” Garrett drains the rest of his drink. “Let’s go up on stage.”

I glance at my watch. “Would you hate me if I ducked out?”

Garrett laughs. Heartily. Uncontrollably. “Are you kidding me, Kensington? This is the view—” He waves an arm toward the stage. “And you’re ready to go?”

I stare at the women. Objectively, they’re all gorgeous. But I appreciate their beauty like I’m watching the scene on a television screen. Nice to look at, but not evoking any deeper emotion. One-dimensional.

I should tell him about Hannah, so my departure makes more sense. But I want to keep her to myself, to avoid having to answer any questions tomorrow. And honestly, I’m not sure if she’ll be waiting outside. I’ve never invited a woman to meet me at a strip club before, and I never thought I would.

“It’s been a long day. There’s all this shit with my dad…”

My voice trails, knowing Garrett will fill in the blanks. His relationship with his father is more detached than contentious, but he gets the dynamic. Aside from Crew, he has the closest sense of what my interactions with my father are really like.

“See you in the morning, yeah?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

Garrett claps my shoulder and then stands, headed straight toward the stage. The brunette he was eyeing earlier breaks away; her steps so smooth it looks like she’s gliding over. She leans down and whispers something to Garrett that has him nodding eagerly, her breasts right in his face. He helps her off stage and then follows her to a dark corner, where she mounts his lap. I have no idea if they’re going to have sex here, and I don’t stick around to replace out. I pass Edmund, who’s approaching the stage now that Garrett has demonstrated you can look and touch, exit our private section, and then head toward the red Exit sign.

Cool smoke blows around me as I walk past other groups similar to ours. There’s an excess of everything here; alcohol, lust, and enticement cloying the air with the scent of sin.

I take a deep breath of cool desert air once I’m outside the club, cleansing my lungs from everything inside. The line to enter Champagne Cabaret has grown, snaking along the sidewalk and around the corner into the alley.

The city is so bright it looks like daylight, a network of lights snaking up and down the block in a dazzling array. The cacophony of color is a contrast to New York’s monochrome skyline. It feels like the sun rising in reverse. Like the city is coming alive slowly, while the rest of the country is going to sleep. Each flash of blue or red or pink is an enticement, a call away from the dark sky that suggests sleep.

I shove my hands in my pockets as I start to walk down the street, almost slicing my finger on the playing card that’s still in my pocket. I glance around, looking for blonde among the people passing by me on the sidewalk.

A large group of laughing women pass by, and then I see her.

Hannah is leaning against one of the palm trees planted along the sidewalk, studying the flashing sign in front of the wedding chapel. The red and blue flashes on her face like the sirens of a police car.

Somehow I forgot how beautiful she is, in the few hours since I last saw her. The dress she’s wearing clings to every curve, the modest cut somehow sexy. Wind plays with the loose strands of her blonde hair as she stares at the sign.

I slow my steps as I approach, since she hasn’t spotted me yet. The foreign sensation of nerves settles in my stomach.

I was nervous she wouldn’t show, and the relief that she did is a heady, confusing feeling.

But I’m also nervous she did come. It’s been a long time since I was interested in a woman who had no idea who I am. More than interested, I’m intrigued by her. It’s why I made the risky request she meet me here, instead of giving her my room number.

I want to talk to her, not just fuck her.

Although attraction is definitely warring with fascination, as my eyes sweep over her body a second time.

An electric jolt races through my body, when her head suddenly turns, blue eyes meeting mine. My body temperature heats as her gaze moves lower, appraising me the same way I just looked at her.

I barely feel the chill in the night air anymore. When we make eye contact again, I see everything I’m experiencing reflected in hers.

“You’re late. Get a little distracted?” she says, once I’m only a couple of feet away. Hannah doesn’t straighten, letting the palm tree continue to hold her upright.

“Yes, but not in the way you think.” I exhale, kicking the edge of one of the concrete slabs that make up the sidewalk. Garrett’s confession lingers in my head, right along with the image of the stripper in his lap. It felt wrong, watching him make that decision. But that’s exactly what it was—his decision. None of my business. And I’m not exactly in a position to be looking down from the moral high ground. “The groom told me he walked in on his fiancée with another guy.”

Hannah’s eyebrows rise. “And he’s still marrying her?”

“He loves her. He thinks she still loves him, despite making a mistake.”

“Big mistake.”

“Yeah.”

What would she think of me, if she knew what mistakes I’ve made?

I’ve never told a single person what happened between me and Candace. She told my father. Crew guessed; I essentially confirmed. I assume Crew told Scarlett, since they don’t seem to keep any secrets from each other. But I’ve never willingly offered the information up to anyone before.

“You okay?”

I blink, refocusing on Hannah instead of the past and shaking the strange concern she wouldn’t like me all that much, if she really knew me. Shoving away the realization I want her to like me, not just be attracted to me.

“I wasn’t sure you’d be waiting out here.”

The small admission is a large one, for me. Doubt is a weakness, and everyone prefers a strong leader. Certainty has been drilled into me since the age I learned to walk. You only mess up when you admit it, my father likes to say. Maybe that’s what I should have said about Candace, instead of apologizing. He’d still hate me but would probably respect me more.

“I got a couple of better offers, but you asked first,” she says.

I can’t tell if she’s joking or not. Hannah is stunning. Beauty that’s impossible to miss or ignore.

I take a step closer, resting a hand on the bark above her head. She’s close enough to touch. Close enough to kiss. Close enough I hear the tiny hitch in her breathing when our proximity registers.

She bites her bottom lip, and we’re standing close enough I can see the tiny indentations left behind in the plump skin. Blood rushes south when she soothes the spot with a swipe of her tongue, the sight affecting me more than anything I saw inside.

“Can I kiss you?” I don’t realize I said the words out loud until they’re out, hovering between us.

“I thought you were going after what you wanted tonight?” she asks.

“I’m making sure you want it too.”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

Before I can respond, before I can kiss her, she’s kissing me.

Hannah tastes like gin and mint.

Her tongue slides into my mouth, rubbing mine in an erotic rhythm. Rough bark scrapes my palm as I press against her, my free hand falling to her waist and wishing there wasn’t a layer of fabric separating our skin.

She moans into my mouth when she feels my erection, rocking her hips against mine and making it impossible to think straight. Her fingers fist in my hair, the spark of pain when she tugs only enhancing the pleasure.

I haven’t been this affected by a woman in a long time. Maybe ever. And I’ve definitely never made out with a woman on a busy street, in full view of anyone who looks over here.

We’re both breathing heavily when we separate. I suck in deep lungfuls of cool air, trying to calm my racing heart. Trying to rationalize why kissing Hannah feels like skydiving instead of an easy, expected glide.

“You can kiss me anytime you want,” she whispers.

I smile, and it’s unexpected. My smiles are usually planned. Part of a farewell or in response to someone else’s. Around Hannah, they’re natural. Just like I don’t think before grabbing her hand and tugging her toward the sidewalk. “Deal.”