Page 8 of False God

It’s Lili, the one person I genuinely enjoyed talking to since I arrived an hour ago. Her strides are smooth and confident in the high heels she’s wearing. I thought maybe she was hiding in the barn for an escape, like I was. But she appears as effortlessly poised in the crowded lobby as she did while standing alone in the stable.

I’m not the only one watching her walk. Ellis’s eyes are glued to her endless legs. Lots of heads are turned this way, many more than when Hanson interrupted.

I’ve never heard the name Ellsworth before, so I make a mental note to look the family up later. Tell myself it has to do with Hanson’s worth as a possible investor and nothing to do with his granddaughter.

“Where have you been?” Hanson asks when Lili reaches us.

“Polo tent,” she replies breezily. She glances at John. “Hello, Mr. Cushing.”

“Wonderful to see you, Elizabeth.” John greets her more warmly than he did Hanson, which I find interesting.

“I’m Ellis.” Ellis smiles wide as he introduces himself. “We met by the tennis courts, Fourth of July weekend.”

I suppress a snort.

“Nice to see you,” Lili replies smoothly, giving no indication of whether or not she remembers Ellis. She glances at me last. “Who’s your friend?”

At first, I think she’s kidding. We met less than fifteen minutes ago, and it wasn’t just an exchange of cursory pleasantries. Full sentences were shared.

But there’s no sign of teasing in her neutral expression. No spark of recognition.

For a few unsure seconds, it makes me question my own sanity.

I hesitate. My options are either to remind her wejustmet and had an entire conversation—pathetic and possibly rude, depending on how I phrase it—or to follow her lead on pretending this is a first encounter.

I hold out a hand. “Charles Marlborough.”

She doesn’t stall the way she did before. Lili grabs my offered palm, shakes it once, then immediately relaxes her grip.

I don’t let go right away, and there’s a flash of some stronger emotion that erases her passivity for a few seconds. It’s gone before I can determine what the change is, her hand disappearing from my hold with a quick yank. Her fingers fidget against the blue fabric of her dress as they fall to her side, like she’s fighting the urge to wipe away any trace of my touch.

Lili clears her throat. “Elizabeth Kensington.”

Kensington.

She’s aKensington. Her first name isn’t Lili, and her last name isn’t Ellsworth. She’s Elizabeth Kensington—the woman Ellis was talking about earlier. Part of the famous American family with a net worth so staggering that no one is sure what the exact number is. Lots of zeroes that add up to hundreds of billions. Name an industry and they own stock in it.

“Nice to meet you,” I manage to say through my shock.

Lili nods once, then glances at her grandfather. “I’ll be in the car.”

“I’ll be right there, darling,” Hanson responds.

Lili heads for the imposing double doors that mark the main entrance, pausing briefly to say something to a blonde woman before continuing outside.

“Family comes first, gentlemen,” Hanson says before beckoning a uniformed employee over and murmuring something that has the man nodding. “Enjoy the rest of your afternoon.”

He strolls away without a more formal farewell, which appears to be a family trait.

Hanson’s abrupt dismissal bothers me a hell of a lot less than Elizabeth Kensington’s did.

3

Eleven Months Later

The skyscraper that houses Kensington Consolidated’s corporate headquarters is massive. From my vantage point on the sidewalk, it appears to be a physical embodiment of its name, flat roof brushing against the bottom of gray clouds that hover angry and dark overhead. Thunder rumbles ominously in the distance.

Lack of sunlight does little to temper today’s heat. The beginning of July doesn’t suggest any end to the heat in sight. The summer air is humid and sticky, more dampness soaking the starched layers of my suit, the longer I stand on the sidewalk.

---