Page 65 of Real Fake Husband

“You weren’t born into the same world we were born into,” Mr. Osborn says matter-of-factly. “Let’s face it. We simply have different views.”

“Yes. True. That still doesn’t answer my question.”

Where once his demeanor was relaxed and almost uninterested, now it’s tense and cold. Just like his wife. Fuck NYC politics. I was fully intending to play nice, but if this is how these dickheads are going to act, I’ll do what I need to without their help.

“It all boils down to breeding and family,” Mr. Osborn says. “My wife and I were both raised in the city with families who have been connected with the business side of the city stretching back many years. We know the people who make the city run. Wearethe people who make the city run. In this business, it’s all about who you know. Knowing the right people gets you where you want to go.”

I’ve never heard someone speak so much without really saying anything. It’s the same bullshit you hear over and over among the “so-called” elite. “Right,” I say slowly. “Correct me if I’m wrong, what you’re trying to say is that because we’re new money, we’re not as good as you two, who come from old money?”

Silence.

Charlotte carefully sets her fork on her clean plate and places her napkin on the table. “Andrew, dear, I think I’m ready to go home,” she says, looking at her husband and ignoring me and Josie completely.

“I think that’d be best,” Josie says, a bite to her tone.

Charlotte’s gaze snaps to hers, any trace of politeness long gone. Josie meets her eyes without backing down. Her jaw is clenched so tight I’m afraid she’s biting through her tongue. I take it the only reason she hasn’t completely gone off on these two is because of what this dinner is supposed to mean to me. I appreciate it, but now, the point is moot.

Mr. Osborn considers his wife before his gaze slides back to meet mine. “Well,” he says, “I am sorry to say that we cannot stay to finish the meal. Thank you for having us, but we must leave.”

“As my wife said, I think that would be best.”

They don’t need much more convincing to leave. They stand up and I follow to personally show them the door. Charlotte hurries out before her husband, and Mr. Osborn lingers just enough to wish me luck with a firm handshake.

“I look forward to seeing the dealership,” he says in short, clipped tones.

Nodding, I say, “I think our partnership ends here, Mr. Osborn.”

Mr. Osborn’s eyes flare. He steps into the hall, his eyes never leaving mine. “Don’t forget, Ashford,” he says, his voice with a threatening undertone, “I invested in your dealership. I’m allowed to see what my investment is going toward.”

“Don’t worry. Your money will be returned to you first thing tomorrow.”

He opens his mouth to respond, and I don’t give him a chance to speak. I slam the door in his face, locking it with a resoundingclick.

If he lawyers up, I’m fucked.

24

CAL

In one fluid motion, I remove my tie and drape it over the coat hanger in the front room, then unbutton my shirt, leaving the top couple of buttons open. From behind me, I hear a huff, and turn to find Josie standing there, arms across her chest. “What a bunch of conceited jerks,” she hisses, stomping back to the dining room.

The clinking of plates echoes as she starts to clean up. “Forget about them,” I say, joining her. “This dinner reminded me why I hate fucking business politics.”

We carry the plates into the kitchen, placing them on the counter by the sink. Josie pauses cleaning to pour herself another glass of wine, this one a lot bigger than her first.

“Want one too?”

“Sure.”

She pours me a glass, then grabs hers and takes a huge gulp. First, we stare at each other in silence. When we put our glasses down, we both start grinning. She pulls out the box of cookies.

“Want one?”

“Sure.”

I repeat the whole “putting a cookie halfway into my mouth and leaning over” tactic, expecting a rejection and a smile. Josie doesn’t disappoint. She swats my arm away, but her expression carries amusement. After several cookies are down, her shoulders droop.

“I’m sorry, Cal. I really am.” She looks at me with those pretty eyes.

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