Chapter 48
TJ
He needs me to bring it to him because he has classes most of the morning. He also needs them ASAP because, right after class, he has a brunch reservation at the Ritz with Camille’s parents, and he needs to change clothes and drop off all his school stuff.
Normally, I’d have told him to fuck off and either come to me or wait until a more reasonable hour, but he’s on edge with Camille’s parents visiting. So, I decided to be a good brother.
I start getting dressed, groaning every step.
I’m deeply hungover. Why couldn’t Laurie have called Cornelia instead?
She also has a spare key to his flat. But no, he doesn’t like to bother her—unlike me.
Or maybe he just doesn’t want to get a sermon about how he doesn’t know how to set boundaries with Camille’s parents.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?” Weberly asks from my bed, lounging comfortably in one of my blue shirts.
She’s been staying over so much lately, I’ve started to wonder if she actually has a home. A part of me is genuinely afraid that, without me fully realising it, she’ll end up moving in, like how she asked me to be her boyfriend.
Being her boyfriend hasn’t been that horrible.
It hasn’t changed our dynamic much—we still go out and drink.
She doesn’t ask me about my nightmares or anything personal, and I like it that way.
And she doesn’t even get mad if, during sex, I accidentally call her Cornelia.
The only real changes are that we have sex regularly now, and apparently, now that I’m her boyfriend, I’m expected to pay for her shopping and the lifestyle she portrays online.
I don’t mind it. I have a fat trust fund I couldn’t spend in a lifetime, even if I tried. Other than covering the bills, she only asked for one thing: that I don’t lie to her. She told me she hates lies and won’t lie to me, but expects the same in return. I liked that.
I shake my head. “It’ll be quicker if I go by myself.”
Also, I might get to see Cornelia, and I’d prefer to be alone if I do.
I’ve been racking my brain, trying to figure out a way to tell her—without outright saying it—that even though I know she doesn’t want me, and even if I’m with someone else, I’ll always be waiting for her.
“Get back to sleep. Hopefully, I’ll quickly get Laurie his keys and be back at it soon myself,” I add.
I finish getting ready, and by the time I’m done, Weberly is already back asleep. I step out of my room and into the living room, where West is sitting on the couch, drinking coffee, already dressed in a white shirt and khaki trousers, engrossed in a book.
“Hey,” I say to him.
“Hi,” he replies, looking up from his book. “Why are you up so early?”
“Because the world hates me,” I respond, running a hand through my hair.
He looks at me thoughtfully, and then it’s like a light bulb flickers on in his head. “I assume you’ve seen the article.”
I frown. “What article?”
His face twists into an expression of regret. “So you haven’t read it?”
I shake my head, confused. “No, I’m up this early because Laurie locked himself out and needs his spare key. What’s going on?”
“Nothing, forget I mentioned it.”
I shoot him a look that says I won’t forget it, so you better fess up.
West sighs, pulls his phone out of his pocket, searches for something on it, and hands it to me.
I look at it. It’s an article about Cornelia and Benedict, titled The Duke of Britentel Finds a Wealthy Heiress, and an Engagement Seems to Be on the Horizon. The title is a nod to his character on the show and the way they speak there.
The article features a photo of them leaving Harry Winston, with Benedict holding one of their bags.
It dives into details, claiming that, according to people in the store, Cornelia tried on engagement rings while they were there.
It even speculates that the bag Benedict is holding contains an engagement ring.
“I wouldn’t worry. The people who wrote that don’t realise she goes to jewellery stores to pick things as much as normal people go to… Tesco,” he says dismissively.
I’m not exactly worried. They’ve only been seeing each other for about a month.
Cornelia would never marry someone she’d known for such a short time.
And the press used to make up stories like this about us every other day.
At some point, they were convinced we were engaged because I’d given her my family ring, which she wore daily.
That made our break-up all the more public—some tabloids claimed we’d called off an engagement, while others insisted we’d never been engaged in the first place.
Also, I know her dream engagement ring isn’t from Harry Winston—it’s from Jessica McCormack, a 7-carat cushion diamond in their signature setting in blackened white gold, like the one Zoe Kravitz got from Channing Tatum.
And even if that were to change, which I doubt, there’s no way her family would let her get married without a giant prenup that would take months to prepare.
Benedict might make good money, but it’s pennies compared to her family fortune.
Odette once sat me down and drilled me on finances, making it clear that if I ever married Cornelia, I would need to sign a prenup.
I never told Cornelia, and that was with my family fortune being in the billions.
I can’t even imagine what it would be like for him.
Odette would probably end up scaring him away. Maybe he should meet her.
Even with all that, it still sucks. I hate the article—I hate him.
“Whatever, they’re fucking lies,” I shrug, handing West back his phone, trying to look and sound as indifferent as possible.
I realise I’ve failed as West gives me a pitying look. “When are they not?”
That look, and that he hasn’t teased me about it, is more concerning than the article.
I need to get out of here.
“I’ve got to go. Laurie won’t stop texting me until I get him his keys,” I say, rushing towards the front door.
Right now, I just want to give Laurie his keys, come back to sleep for a couple of months, and wake up when Cornelia and Benedict have broken up. Because they will. They have to.