24. Katherine
24
KATHERINE
Ford shakes his head. “Henry was full of hot air. Don’t tell me you still believe him.”
What is it about Ford that let him see through people at such a young age?
God, that could have saved me so much heartache. Why didn’t I pay attention when he was figuring things out and distancing himself?
His answer tells me everything and I feel dumb for holding out hope that my mother really did have my best interests at heart.
I shake my head, the mental cobwebs falling away. “Not anymore.”
“So, what are you going to do? I know you. You’ve got a plan in that head,” he says.
“Me? You’re Mr. Damage Control.” I’m not the one who put glitter in the vents of the headmaster’s Jag. He’s super lucky he knows an excellent detailer .
He smirks.
Behind him, the door opens, and our server steps out with our lunch. He thanks her by name, that trademark Ford smile shining brightly, and even though she’s old enough to be our mother, she’s immediately smitten. Because that’s the Ford Effect.
One hundred percent charm.
I snag a potato chip from his plate, and he shoots me a warning glare. He’s notorious for not sharing his food, so I love to push his buttons.
“So, you were telling me your plan,” he says.
I glance around again. “The plan had been for someone to recognize me and realize I’m perfectly fine. Not kidnapped. And then, you know, the whisper network would take action. But I should have known better. People mind their own business out here. To a certain degree, anyway. I’d have to whip my bra off to get attention.”
“Please don’t do that,” he says around a potato chip, eyes wide.
The thought sends a shudder through me. Talk about feeling exposed.
“I think I’ve had enough scandal for one night.” I poke at my pasta salad because my appetite isn’t what it should be.
I can’t wrap my head around the fact that people honestly think Alex and Gabe kidnapped me.
We eat in comfortable silence. I sneak another chip, and he bats my hand away. “Greedy little monster,” I scold.
“Shoulda ordered your own chips,” he complains.
“I’ll share my pasta salad.”
“If I wanted pasta salad, I would have ordered it,” he says and lifts a chip to his lips, making a show of biting it, enjoying it.
A laugh bubbles up my throat. Man, that feels good.
Our phones buzz one after the other, and Ford glances at his. “Amelia wants to know if I’ve talked to you.”
Our half-sister is still firmly up our mother’s gluteus maximus, and I have no doubt that she’s not messaging out of concern but rather at the direction of our mother.
“I’m going to tell her yes and that you look well rested.” He smirks.
“Seriously?” I nibble on my sandwich as he types back, humming an affirmative.
He puts his phone down and pegs me with a thoughtful look. “My senior year, we had a fundraiser for a new athletic building. There were the usual grumblings. ‘Why couldn’t Baron’s dad pay for the thing and save us the trouble.’”
“What does this have to do with anything?”
“This is the plan?—”
“I’m fundraising for your boarding school? ”
“Just listen.”
I settle back and give him a go-ahead nod.
“The school was planning a benefit where they would announce how much money was raised. We talked the staff into announcing who raised the most and the least, saying that it would motivate us.”
“Did it?”
“Oh yeah. But we also had a side bet going. Whoever raised the least was gonna get pantsed in front of the headmaster and everyone at the benefit.”
“Was that your idea?”
He shrugs. “So, at the benefit, those Timid Timmys decided we’d get in trouble if we went through with the plan. Instead, we’d give the loser a three-second head start. Good ol’ Barry Edicott didn’t hear his name called, and let’s just say, things got a bit out of hand. It was a waste of a gorgeous Ralph Lauren suit, but they stripped him naked right there in the Grand Hall.”
I gasp, and Ford laughs at the memory, then leans forward, arms braced against the edge of the table.
“Here’s the point, Kate. The next day, we ribbed him hard. But Barry laughed with us. He leaned into the jokes. Told some of his own. He was such a good sport about it, no one teased him after that.”
“I was joking about whipping my bra off in public,” I say.
“Thank god.” He stuffs another chip into his mouth. “My point is, you need to own it. Own your story, sis.”
Own my story.
A tiny bubble fizzes through me.
“However you want to do that. Whatever story you want to write.”
“You make it sound so simple.” But I have my grandfather’s voice in my head, telling me to think of the family. The company. I spent years attending the right schools, getting good grades, and making sure I excelled in the correct activities. Shook the right hands and was seen with the right people.
Yet, after doing everything they asked me to do, it still wasn’t enough for my grandfather to see me as worthy and capable. No. I need a man by my side to gain my inheritance.
Ford puts his sandwich down and wipes his mouth. “It’s never simple, Kate. Nothing worth having is.”
I slouch back in my chair.
“And I’d suggest answering some text messages rather than hiding.”
I’ve never seen an eyebrow hold so much censure. But he radiates confidence. Makes it sound easy to ignore all the voices in my head and live my life the way I want. Everyone else be damned.
But he’s right. Just because he makes it look easy to do things on his terms doesn’t mean it is.
“How’d you get so smart? ”
He preens like a peacock, raking his fingers through his hair. “I was born this way, baby.”
We share a half smile, and then I stare down at my pasta salad as my demons rage.
That’s one thing my brother’s always had going for him, aside from good looks and incredible privilege. He marches to his own beat. After our parents divorced, he stayed with our father, against our mother’s wishes. He has an amazing radar for liars and frauds. He’s got his downsides, of course. He’s too cocky for his own good, which will probably get his heart broken one day.
But at least he’s out there living his life; expectations be damned.
Lightness fills me. It’s like watching a cloud on a spring day. Hopeful. Bright. Warm. Utterly addictive.
I don’t think there’s any going back to the way things were before this weekend. Not with my relationship with my mother. Not after learning about the heinous stipulations of my grandfather’s will.
“Isn’t relationship management sort of what you’re good at?” His eyes twinkle, and he shoots me the smile of a playboy who knows he’s won an argument.
“At work, yes.” In business, I assume everyone has an ulterior motive.
“How is this different?”
My emotions are tied to everything. Twisted and tangled. Except. . . those threads have been cut. I’m free. Not tied or enmeshed in the family drama.
“Fine. We’ll do it your way.”
I reach for my phone, pull up my texts, and reply to Kingston.
Katherine: I’m fine. It’s a long story, but I’m safe and sound. I’ll tell you all about it next time we talk.
Then I scroll down to my half-sister’s name.
Amy: where are you? Mom’s losing her mind.
Not for the first time, I think of asking her to move in with me. Mother and James are rarely home. Amy doesn’t have a terribly stable home life. She’s always out with so-called friends, and she’s obsessed with social media. Being seen.
But we’re not that close, and I don’t want to start a war.
Focus, Katherine.
Katherine: hanging with Ford-he won’t share his chips. monster! hope you’re having a good weekend!
“Done.”
He grabs his phone and circles the table.
“Next step is a snap of us. I’ll post it to my social, and then the press will pick it up and the fervor will die down.”
Okay, that makes sense, even if I don’t love the idea of more photos of me out there, especially without makeup. We both have enough experience with the press to know you can distract them with the story you want them to tell.
But old insecurities are hard to overcome.
“All right.”
If Alex is comfortable being uncomfortable, I can do that too. Right? I’m not sure Ford has ever been uncomfortable. In his skin. In situations. He just seems to glide through life.
Is it because he’s male? Whatever the answer, I’ve envied him for years.
He sprawls into the chair next to mine, throws an arm around my shoulders, and grins up at the camera lens. “Smile, sis.”
I manage something that looks pleasant rather than tortured.
He zooms back to his plate and taps away at his phone for a few minutes while I eat.
“So are we going to talk about it?” he asks as I have a mouth full of sandwich.
“What?”
He raises an I wasn’t born yesterday brow.
“The auction. Alexander Hunt, billionaire bodyguard extraordinaire. And Gabe Rothburn, whiz kid turned Tech god. ”
I shrug. “I honestly didn’t know they were going to be there. Mom signed me up. I went. They showed up. You know the rest.”
“I know they each bid a million dollars to go on a date with you.”
“I’m aware.” I shove another mouthful of salad in my mouth to buy myself time. Unfortunately, Ford knows a stalling tactic when he sees one.
“I don’t care how much money you have. You don’t do that kind of thing out of the goodness of your heart.” He crosses his arms and leans against the table. “So, what do they want with you? Why you?”
Well, when he puts it like that. . . But that was last night, and today? Today, things are more complicated than ever.
“I don’t know.”
“I thought you hated Rothburn.”
“He annoys me.”
“So do I. I’d never pay a million dollars for you.”
Ford annoys me because he’s my brother, and he knows how to get to me. Gabe annoys me for entirely different reasons, which I don’t want to think about.
“For a date. You’re dangerously close to making me sound like a prostitute.”
Ford leans back and laughs. “You’re no Vivian, sis,” he says of the lead character in Pretty Woman . We secretly loved that movie as teenagers.
“They live in my building now. ”
“Okay. . .” He drags the word out, obviously waiting for my answer. A real answer.
“I really don’t know. I’ve seen them in the gym once. I see Alex at various events and Gabe at the board meetings. That’s the extent of it. You know everything I know.”
Liar, liar, panties on fire.
Sighing, he shakes his head, staring down at what’s left of his meal. He snags another chip and chews.
“So you have no romantic interest in them, then?”
I really wish I had pasta salad left to throw at him.