Chapter 32
I’ve attended Kensington Consolidated’s annual gala several times before as a guest of a Kensington.
This is my first time attending as the date of a Kensington, and that appears to be a crucial difference.
Rory and I are ushered inside immediately, bypassing the line of attendees waiting to be marked off a list.
The gala’s venue varies year to year. So does the date.
I haven’t been to one of these since I started law school, so I don’t recall where the last few were held.
This year, it’s at Manhattan’s largest waterfront venue, overlooking the Hudson’s calm waters.
The weather is cooperative, the sunshine streaming through the river-facing windows making it feel closer to late summer than early fall.
The view is only interrupted by massive floral displays and tables that have been set up for the silent auction items.
“Maid of honor!” Lili barrels toward us, her stilettos not appearing to slow her down at all before she throws her arms around my date.
“Bride,” Rory returns, hugging her cousin back.
“Soon-to-be Your Honor, I’d bet,” Lili teases.
“I have no plans to become a judge, Lili,” Rory states.
“I know; I know. Exceeding expectations just comes naturally to you.” Lili glances at me, opening her arms again. “Hey, Flynn.”
I fake surprise. “You noticed I’m here.”
“Please. You know you’re one of my favorite people. Your girlfriend”—she gives Rory a cheeky smile—“just happens to be one of my favorite people, a relative, and a crucial component of my wedding party. That trumps brother’s best friend.”
“I completely understand,” I say. “I’d pick Rory over me too.”
Lili’s smile spreads as she glances between us. “No one asked my opinion—let alone updated me on this development in a timely manner—but I am a big, big fan of what’s happening here.” She flicks a finger between us. “Disappointed I didn’t see it coming because you guys are perfect for—”
“You promised you’d stop abandoning me with people I don’t know.” Charlie, Lili’s fiancé, appears, a frown on his face.
He’s very British, and the first time I met him, I would have bet money they would never work as a couple. Goes to show what I know about relationships, clearly.
“You’re great at networking.” Lili straightens Charlie’s tie, which was already perfectly parallel with the buttons on his shirt. “That’s basically all being a duke is.”
“Sure. There’s hardly any estate management, state duties, or public patronages to handle.”
“Like I said, networking.”
I glance at Rory while Lili and Charlie bicker with smiles on their faces. She’s playing with a bracelet on her wrist, gaze darting around as she takes in the surrounding activity.
I consider grabbing her hand, then second-guess.
Strangely, I’ve become far more comfortable touching Rory in private than I am in public.
Here, I’m aware there’s attention on us.
There’s been no shortage of speculation about Lili and Charlie’s upcoming wedding, so some of the curious stares are likely on them.
But this is the first major event Rory and I have attended together.
I don’t want anyone thinking she needs the support, especially since I’m the one wanting encouragement.
My parents are likely here. I know Julian won’t make a scene—not when every person he deems important is in attendance—but he’ll likely force the first awkward exchange since our tense phone call.
I slide my hands into my pockets. “I’m gonna grab a drink before the bars get busy,” I tell Rory, lowering my voice. “Want anything?”
“Just water. With—”
“Ice and lime. I got it.” I clap Charlie on the shoulder as I pass him. “Good to see you, mate.”
“You too, Flynn,” he calls after me.
I continue toward the veranda. The glass-enclosed terrace is climate-controlled and a little warm.
Stepping outside is a pleasant surprise, thanks to the cool breeze coming off the water, until I spot a group of three men standing around one of the tall tables set up directly by the bar.
I have to walk by them to get our drinks, but I’d make a point to even if they were gathered at the opposite end of the veranda.
I can’t believe he wasn’t uninvited. I can’t believe he showed his face at her family’s event.
Knox Wellington spots me first. He nudges George Archibald with his elbow, who says something to Carson.
I stroll toward them, fixing a blasé smile on my face.
“Gentlemen.” I button my jacket. “Albright.”
George won’t meet my gaze.
One corner of Knox’s mouth curves up before he raises his drink, conveniently shielding his expression.
Carson stares at me, his expression entirely blank.
I’ve never liked the guy, but it’s difficult to recall when that contempt was separate from Rory.
I never thought they made sense as a couple, but I never imagined he’d treat her with the disrespect he did.
I’m angrier about his actions now, months later, than I was when I punched him at Proof.
I haven’t been back to my favorite club since that night.
He ruined one of my favorite places by cheating on one of my favorite people there.
“Surprised to see you here,” Carson comments.
“Because I’ve been a friend of the Kensington family for decades? Or because I’m dating Rory?”
That fractures the mask. “Because you’ve been an embarrassing affiliation for the Kensington family for decades. All you were ever good at was drinking and partying.”
“My law degree says otherwise.”
“The one your daddy bought?”
George says Carson’s name, uneasiness saturating his voice. For an attorney, he’s not great with confrontation.
“If they’re so easy to come by, why don’t you have an advanced degree?” I pretend to have an epiphany. “Oh, that’s right. You were too busy cheating on a girl much smarter than you.”
Carson scoffs. “Someone sounds bitter he wound up with my leftovers.”
You can’t punch him here. You can’t punch him here. You can’t punch him here.
I release a deep breath that doesn’t relax me at all. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re doing here, but you—”
“You don’t? Rory invited me.”
That revelation pulls me up short. Because Carson might be a cheater and an asshole, but I don’t think he’s lying.
I never asked Rory what the rest of their conversation entailed after she told me he texted her about what happened at Proof.
I assumed she would never forgive him. Has she?
Would she? She was intending to marry him. For real, not as part of a fake plan.
“She didn’t tell you,” Carson realizes. “Guess I wasn’t supposed to say anything.”
“There’s a lot you shouldn’t say, but you keep running your mouth anyway.”
“At least I mind my own business. Allie wouldn’t have released that video if you hadn’t made such a scene about a private moment. You’re mad Rory got humiliated? That was your own fucking fault, Parks.”
“You’re deluded.”
“I’m also the guy Rory picked first, not her backup.”
George and Knox look torn between concern and fascination, like they’re witnessing a car crash.
“You think I’m bitter?” I speak slowly, ensuring he hears every calm, cool syllable. “You messed up the best thing that ever happened to you. Rory is fine without you, happier without you, so—”
“What’s going on over here?” Kit interrupts, stopping directly beside me.
I glance over, but his gaze is fixed on Carson. His tone was casual, but his posture is stiff. I take that to mean Rory didn’t run her intention to invite her ex past her cousin either.
“I was just seeing if Albright wanted to swim in the Hudson,” I state, glancing at the railing we’re not far from.
“Before all the guests arrive? No one would want to miss that show.”
“That’s what I was thinking.” I slip my hands into my pockets again. “But he’s being rather insistent.”
Carson shakes his head, reaching for his glass and muttering under his breath. He’s got a lot less to say now that Kit is within earshot. He wanted to be part of the Kensington family. He respects Kit a hell of a lot more than he does me.
“Security at these events tend to get pretty bored,” Kit states, watching Carson sip. “I’d be happy to give them something more interesting to do—like toss you out of here. Your call.”
The click of heels echoes behind me. It could be any number of women—every one I’ve seen tonight has been wearing stilettos—but I know who is approaching without turning around. Contrition passes across Carson’s face as he stares past me.
“Must be an awful line at the bar,” Rory comments. When I glance over, she’s looking at the two people being immediately served. “Or not. Weird. You’d think I’d be less dehydrated right now.”
I clear my throat. “I got distracted.”
“So I see.” Her tone is cool, her expression regal as her gaze roams across the other men standing around the table.
I have no idea what Rory is thinking, which bothers me for a variety of reasons. Most pressing, I should know. I should have asked if she was okay with seeing Carson, if she wanted to see Carson, rather than pretend he doesn’t exist because his existence bothers me. I don’t like that she dated him.
I don’t like the thought of Rory dating anyone who’s not … me.
“Hey, Rory.” It’s Knox who speaks first, not Carson, which causes Carson to shoot a quick glare his way.
Rory nods at him. “Knox. Carson. George.” She glances at each guy as she addresses him, then turns to face me. “I need you for a minute.”
“Now?” I ask stupidly, taken aback.
“Yes. Something very specific that requires your exact skill set came up.”
I smile as she uses the same excuse I did at Graham’s party. “You’re short a bartender?”
Rory rolls her eyes, then grabs my hand. “Collins is looking for you, Kit.”
“Where is she?” he asks immediately.
“By the stage, last I saw,” Rory replies, then pulls me back toward the doors that lead inside.
“Rory …” I start uncertainly.
I’m not sure if she was simply trying to get me away from Carson or if she’s intending to chastise me for engaging with him to begin with, but if it’s the latter, I’d rather have that conversation later, at home, not in a corner of this party while I’m trying to keep an eye out for my parents.
“Not here,” she says shortly.
I swallow hard. Fuck. She’s mad.
Rory leads me past the coat check that’s hardly being used due to the nice weather, down a hallway, and past a whispering group of waiters.
They scatter as we approach, heading through a set of swinging doors that appears to be the kitchen.
Another hallway, and we’re still walking. I can’t hear music or voices anymore.
Finally, she stops outside a door with Suite A affixed to the wood. She opens it, pulling me inside after her. And then turns the lock on the handle.
I exhale. “Look, I’m sorry I—”
“Shut up and kiss me.” Rory grabs my black tie, yanking it the way she was just tugging my hand.
I go still, the arguments I spent the walk here compiling—he started it, he deserved it, I could have said worse—entirely irrelevant all of a sudden.
Rory isn’t angry. She’s turned on. She brought me here so we could fuck in the middle of her family’s fancy party.
“This is very naughty, Florence,” I say as her hands land on my belt, unbuckling and then unzipping urgently. “You can’t wait until we get home for my cock?”
“No.” She doesn’t even look up, intent on her task. “I need it now.”
She’s not teasing or trying to inflate my ego. She’s completely serious.
“Such a greedy girl.” I grip her hips, guiding her toward the couch that’s across from the vanity on the wall. They must use this as a dressing room during certain events. “Bend over.”
Uncertainty flashes across her face for the first time tonight. We’ve experimented with different positions, but I’ve always respected her request to be in front of her.
“Trust me,” I tell her, not sure if it’s a plea or a question.
She grabs at the closer arm of the couch, bending her back as I run a hand across her ass before starting to gather the skirt of her floor-length gown.
“Look right.”
Her head turns, finding us in the mirror’s reflection. “Oh,” she whispers, watching me adjust her dress higher. Carefully so it doesn’t wrinkle or tear.
Last time we snuck away at a party, we were pretending to fuck and wanted everyone to know. This time, we’re actually going to fuck. And I don’t want anyone except us to know.
“Oh,” she moans when I slip a hand between her thighs, fingering the wet heat waiting. Her hips lower like her legs might buckle, but she remains upright.
She’s ready. She’s soaked.
I pull my cock free from my boxers, lining it up with her entrance and starting to push deeper.
“Fuck. Flynn. That’s … fuck.”
Rory is watching me move behind her in the mirror, her hands clenched so tight that her knuckles are white. Her pussy is already fluttering. This might set a new record for how quickly she’ll come.
I’m too desperate to savor this. I withdraw and thrust again.
Again. Again, exigency seeping into my movements.
I fuck her hard and fast and deep, not stopping when her pussy starts to contract around me.
I come so hard that black creeps into the edges of my vision and cum begins to trickle before I pull out.
We still haven’t started using condoms despite the box I bought, and I try to convince myself that’s why this feels so different.
There’s some primal instinct being triggered, seeing how I’ve physically marked her as mine.
Mine.
It looks and sounds and feels right.
Until Rory lets out a dazed laugh and says, “Wow. I’m really going to miss having sex with you.”
And all I hear is, You’re a shallow playboy who’s incapable of love.