Cruel Money (Cruel 1)

I needed to call her.

She’d freak out about Penn.

She was the one who had warned me about him to begin with.

Of course, I hadn’t listened.

But I realized I didn’t even know where my phone was. Where had I left it after getting that awful email from my agent? Probably the living room.

I grumbled under my breath as I stuffed a bunch of underwear into a small cube. I was fucked because no way in hell was I going back out there to make a fool of myself.

It was bad enough that Penn was here. Let alone that he had seen me naked and watched me humiliate myself. I didn’t have to make it worse.

Plus, what the hell did I have in common with those people? I threw the cube into the suitcase. They all looked famous with their fabulous clothes and perfect hair and manicures and stylish makeup and easy confidence. They’d had their life given to them on a silver spoon. And I had grown up with nothing. Amy had money, but even she wasn’t rich like this.

There was rich, and then there was wealthy.

And I didn’t even follow the lives of the rich and famous, but I knew the name Kensington carried its weight in gold.

I was an idiot. I’d known in Paris that he had money. He’d opened doors that I couldn’t fathom even now. But it had never occurred to me that he was the heir to the Kensington fortune. That he was that wealthy.

A knock on the bedroom door broke me from my silent rant.

“Natalie?” Penn called from the other side.

What the hell? What was he doing, trying to talk to me?

I’d basically run away from him and his friends on his suggestion. It hadn’t been long enough for him to consider his offer of privacy expired.

“Yes?” I took a half-step toward the door and then stopped.

“May I come in?”

Come in? What the fuck? No!

I checked my clothes. Still in shorts and an oversized Grimke University T-shirt. It was one of the best damn private schools in the South and had the added benefit of being in Charleston. But still…it wasn’t much better than my dress.

Shit, why did I even care?

Oh, of course I cared. He was hot as fucking sin. The man made delectable a proper noun. It was ridiculous.

I finally settled on. “Uh…why?”

“I wanted to speak with you.”

Very specific.

I rolled my eyes.

“I guess so.”

The door handle turned, and I tried to look natural. As natural as a deer caught in headlights. A gazelle staring down a lion.

Sometimes, I really wished my writer brain would turn off.

Like right now.

Penn stepped through the open door, and my breath caught. He’d removed his suit coat and his black tie. The white button-up underneath was undone on the first two buttons, and it fit him as if it had been made for him. Broad shoulders that narrowed down to his trim waist and those incredible legs.

I admonished myself with an imaginary smack in the face and met his cool blue gaze. “Can I help you?”

He leaned against the open doorframe and slid a hand into his pocket. Habit maybe. “I came to check on you.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to make sure that you were all right.” His eyes moved to the open suitcase on the bed and the mess of clothes between it and the drawer. He straightened. The only sign that my packing had taken him by surprise. “Are you leaving?”

“Yeah. I’m just packing now, and I’ll be out of your hair by the morning.”

“That was not what I meant.”

“Well, why don’t you say what you mean?” For once, was the implied addition. “I’m kind of busy.”

“You don’t have to leave.”

“Of course I do. This is your house. I was hired to watch and maintain an empty house for the season before some big party in November. Not only is the house not empty, but I also assume I’ll be fired by Monday. So, I might as well get started.” I stuffed another shirt into the suitcase to make a point.

“Why on earth would you get fired?”

I released an exasperated breath. “Lark hired me. After that performance, I can’t imagine her reporting back kindly.”

“Lark…isn’t going to report back to my mother.”

Now, I turned to him fully. My own surprise clear. “Why ever not?”

“This is actually her first real vacation in three years. She got the weekend off from the office, and I dragged her here with the others after her last event.” He gestured to his suit as if to say, Hence the outfit. “The fact that it slipped her mind that you were here is a testament to how much she needs it. So, you can imagine work is the last thing on her mind.”

I couldn’t imagine. Her life sounded horrible. Who didn’t take any time off for three years? What kind of slave driver was Mayor Kensington?