Page 32 of The Spare
“And the champagne is top shelf,” CeCe said, giggling.
CeCe, an amazing woman in her own right, came from a long line of heiresses. Her lineage traced back to the Livingston family. They were old money from European nobility. The type of old money that scoffed at the Rockefeller family fortune. CeCe was nothing like that, however. She was a deeply caring individual with a huge heart.
We turned in our ballot sheets and walked out of the ballroom. “I’m heading downtown; want to come along?”
She shook her head. “Drinks later? I have day-date plans.”
“Yes,” I agreed and hailed a cab. Another cardinal sin, I should have been in a town car.
* * *
Since I had a couple hours before I needed to rejoin CeCe, I decided to see my grandfather. I didn’t make a habit of going to the Amari Global building anymore for the same reason I hated society events.
Nobody liked the reminder that they weren’t someone’s first choice.
We may not have been as close as I was with my late grandmother, but I wasn’t going to see him until after I got back from London. I felt like Ishouldsee him. My relationship with him could be summed up by that sentiment. I always wanted to see my grandmother, I always felt like Ishouldsee my grandfather.
“You look well.” He smiled from his desk. “How is the pursuit of partner?”
“Almost in hand,” I confirmed.
“I expect no less.” His schedule was busy; we only had half an hour to catch up. We didn’t have much to talk about. He was always happy to see me, but always wholly consumed with the company.
Mostly, we talked about my plans for work in London while I was there. I never had much to talk about with my grandfather. The only thing that ever really interested him was the company.
After a short conversation, I got up to leave but stopped before getting to the door.
“Is there anything you need? I can help if it helps Henry.”
They were clearly worried about Henry taking over, but the actual concern eluded me. My grandfather and father often underestimated Henry and me—that, or they expected too much. Either way, they had a way of making us feel like we needed to prove ourselves. I finally recognized that my unhealthy competition with Henry wasn’t helping anyone. And my skill set was pretty similar to his.
I could’ve been useful. I wanted to help.
He opened his mouth and sat up a bit like he was going to say something, but then hesitated. “No, nothing.”
That irked me. It felt like he didn’t trust me with an important task. I hadn’t proven myself yet. I felt it—the poorly controlled resentment about to sneak out.
There was no point in relitigating the past. There had already been far too many arguments about it. I swallowed the annoyance.
I put on my best smile and nodded.
* * *
I took the private elevator down to the lobby. In my annoyance, I forgot to change out of the terrible outfit.
“Sloan?” Henry’s voice called. Distracted by my phone, I didn’t realize I had walked right past him and Marcus. “What are you doing here?”
They must have come from a late lunch or something. It was nice to see them together. Henry looked happier, and Marcus looked…
Focus.
“Junior league event. Then I came to see grandfather.” I looked at Henry, but I could see Marcus’s eyes fall on me. Marcus was meant to wear suits. Today’s was navy. He was holding a to-go coffee. It made his bicep flex against the fabric. I wondered what it would feel like to run my hands down those arms. Or be lifted by them.
Henry looked at my outfit and smiled with pity.
“You look nice.” Marcus’s voice was kind, but his smile smothered a laugh.
The humiliation was nauseating. If he was joking, it was poorly executed.
