Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 107639 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107639 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
As the subject changed and my father began telling a story about an adventure trip with his brother I’d heard a million times before, I continued past the library to my office and tried to put the conversation out of my mind. Hearing Kenji still refer to me and the guys as his “employers” galled me.
I checked in with the Brotherhood on a video call. They were all still in Majestic, awaiting Lellie’s birthday celebration that night, though her actual birthday wasn’t today.
“I told Kenji he should fly back for the party,” I explained for the third time. “But he refused. We’ve been invited to a reception at Downing Street, kind of a political networking thing—”
Dev shook his head. “I still can’t wrap my head around this. The man who once ran naked down the shore in broad daylight singing Monty Python’s ‘Penis Song’ is going to don a powdered wig—”
“They don’t wear wigs,” I corrected. “And I’m not going to get selected.”
Bash and Silas both stared into the camera with the kind of no-bullshit intensity they were known for. I glanced at Zane, whose face was creased in concern.
“But what if you are?” he asked. “What if you’re selected and you stay in London full-time? Will we ever get to see you?”
“You’d be surprised at how many breaks they get,” I assured him. “During the last session, they had about twenty weeks off. It’s not a bad gig.”
Silas’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. “So I guess there’ll be time during those breaks to attend… oh, let’s say a family birthday celebration?”
Dev shot him a look while Way reached over and shoved a cookie in Silas’s mouth.
What they didn’t realize was that the knife cut just as deep whether their hands were on the hilt with mine or not.
Tully, who held a wriggly Lellie on his lap, griped at Way for bringing out cookies and demanded one for his daughter if he was going to flaunt them.
I missed these guys. I missed them so much it hurt.
“I won’t get selected,” I said again, even though I was tired of being the only person who believed it. “There are several candidates in the running who are way more qualified than I am. They’ve been here for years, networking and establishing connections. Everything I’ve done here has been via email and phone calls only. Those relationships don’t exist for me the way they do for the other candidates.”
Silas shook his head. “The PM wouldn’t have put his support behind you without being confident in your success.”
“You’re being naive, Landry.” This time, the admonishment came from an unlikely source. Zane’s boyfriend, Ryan, crossed his arms in front of his broad chest. “Politics is a chess game played by experts. They don’t make a move without looking several moves ahead. Sometimes pieces are sacrificed to protect other pieces or moved to protect other pieces. And sometimes the move is a distraction tactic to make your opponent think you’re doing one thing when you’re actually doing another. I’m not saying Baines has any nefarious motive here, but I am saying—as I’m sure others have said already—there’s little chance he’s putting you up without believing you’ll get the seat.”
By the time I dressed for the dinner, I was in a shit mood. Not only was I tired from sleepless nights spent hard and aching against a man I couldn’t have, but I was also finally coming to the conclusion that I was the one in denial about the House of Lords situation.
There was a very good chance I would get selected, not because I deserved it but because other people were pulling the strings.
I imagined most people would be happy in my shoes. In a way, I was happy myself. The position would keep me busy and distracted. It would let me continue a proud family legacy. It would let me do some good in the world.
But I’d be stuck half a world away from most of the people I loved, doing a job I didn’t love, and depriving better candidates in the process.
Cora knocked on my bedroom door. “Landry? Kenji’s been downstairs and ready for half an hour. What’s taking you so long? The car is waiting.”
I wasn’t going to explain the elaborate dressing choreography I’d done to ensure I didn’t see any of Kenji’s bare body before he was safely out of the room. “Coming.”
Cora’s elegant gown looked amazing in the warm, dim lighting of the corridor.
“Is that Dolce?” I asked in surprise, recognizing the zebra chiffon. “I thought you were wearing Vivienne Westwood tonight.”
As usual, she’d asked me to hook her up with some contacts in the fashion industry. She’d frequently claimed the only thing having a supermodel cousin was good for was the couture.
She flushed and looked away, her eyelashes fluttering inky black against her smooth cheek. “Jamie Winthrop suggested something a little more young and fun. Well, to be fair, I told him I wished I could wear this dress instead of the red gown but that I worried about upsetting our donors. He reminded me that charitable giving isn’t just done by old fuddy-duddies. Do you think it’s okay? Not too much?”