Page 27 of The Spare
I had hoped getting drinks would reset some of the animosity that came along with my absence. I shook off the annoyance and wondered how many of those shots I’d have to take before we were even.
“No, that was just a fringe benefit.” He grinned. “Actually, I did want to ask you about this Sloan thing.”
My mind raced for a moment. I reminded myself that, technically, there was no Sloan thing. There never was. “What?”
“I think she’s up to something.”
“What does that mean?” But I knew what it meant. He’d suffered bad press all summer and was taking out his current slippery position with the board out on her. The idea that his little sister was doing something to undermine him was outrageous. If he believed it, he was doomed.
He gave me a stern look.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Do you want to consider who’s at fault here? Sloan didn’t push you into bed with every ballerina in the city.”
“Noteveryballerina,” he scoffed. “You’re keeping tabs on me?”
“You don’t make much effort to keep it a secret.”
“Are you the best person to lecture me onthat?” Henry turned the glass in his hand. “If I recall correctly, and I do, you had a different girl every weekend. At least I know their names.”
“I didn’t live under a microscope,” I reminded him.
The rules were different for me. I wasn’t from one of the wealthiest families in the city. I didn’t grow up in society. I was new money, and that came with benefits. Nobody cared about what I was doing until I started showing up in the Financial Times. Even then, hanging out with Henry meant he absorbed the glare of the press.
“I guess.” He shifted uncomfortably again. “She seemed to enjoy the onslaught of bad press this summer.”
“I doubt that,” I snapped. “Look at all the evidence. She’s leaving the continent to pursue a career away from her family. If she wanted your seat, she's doing a shitty job of getting it. And we both know she’s too much of a perfectionist to have done a shitty job at anything.”
“Then what’s going on? Why does she hate me?” His voice was low, like he was talking to himself.
“You dismissed her and said she was throwing a tantrum and then a hissy fit. The second one was to her face, in front of her closest friends.” I didn’t even mention his comment that nobody cared about what Sloan did. Even I wanted to punch him after that crack.
Clearly frustrated, he ran a hand through his hair. “Shit. You’re right.”
“I usually am.”
“Oh, and do me a favor, look out for her while she’s in London, will you?” He looked genuinely worried. Before they started competing viciously to prove who was the better fit for CEO, they were close. And he was always protective. “She has fucking terrible taste in men; you would’ve hated the last guy she dated.”
He was right about that. “He was that bad?”
Why do you care what Henry thought of her ex?
“Awful.” Henry rolled his eyes. He finished his drink and motioned for another. “Then there’s my fucking CFO, who thought it would be a good idea to ask me if she was seeing anyone after he saw her at some event.”
“Preston Scott?” My molars smashed together. We worked together before I left Amari Global to strike out on my own. I never liked him. He was a high society clone of every other proper gentleman that Sloan seemed to attract.
He was also a couple years older than Henry and me. He worked for her brother. How the fuck was that appropriate?
“Yeah.” Henry lifted his fresh glass and took a sip.
“Fire him.”
Henry laughed. I didn’t know why; I was entirely serious. Now I was stuck thinking about Preston hitting on her every time she went into the building.
“At least he had the decency to ask before hitting on her,” Henry said.
“I guess.”
I was initially a little annoyed that Sloan and I would be in London at the same time. Seeing her alone felt like a temptation I needed to avoid. But it provided me the opportunity to keep her away from guys like Preston for another few months.
