Page 16 of Anti-Hero

My sister taps her chin. “You’resucha gossip, Kit.”

“I’m simply curious how you decided he wasn’t toopretentiousfor you.”

Lili yanks a Post-it Note off my desk, crunches it into a neon ball, and tosses it my way. It lands three feet to my left.

I grin. “You missed.”

She huffs. “I was wrong about Charlie. And Iamdating him, and he’s coming to visit before I leave for Dublin. Grandpa wants to meet him properly, so he’s hosting a dinner. I’ll send you the details.”

The smile promptly slides off my face.

Lili has a warm—loving—relationship with our father’s father. I don’t. Neither does Bash. I don’t know if it’s because Lili’s the oldest or a girl, but Grandfather coddles her and mostly ignores us.

Arthur Kensington has a ruthless reputation. He’s a hard man to read and an even harder person to please. I consider any conversation we have that doesn’t include a chastisement of my behavior to be a smashing success. I haven’t seen him since I started working at the company he used to helm, and it’s a meeting I’d like to put off for as long as possible.

“I could meet you guys for drinksafterthe dinner,” I suggest.

Lili shakes her head, then sticks out her bottom lip. “Please, Kit. This is important to me. I need you to be there.”

Lili’s accustomed to getting her way, and acquiescing is always the easiest outcome.

Even if I hold my ground against Lili, it’ll escalate to our parents. Mom will highlight the importance of family time, and Dad will chide me for not supporting my sister.

I fold under the force of Lili’s pleading gaze, rationalizing it’ll save me more of a headache later. At least our grandfather has the same appreciation when it comes to expensive scotch. A few glasses always take the edge off any criticism.

“Fine. I will be there.”

She beams. “Great. Now that that’s settled, we can focus on you.”

“Me?” I say blankly.

“Yeah. How is—oh, this is a better angle.” Lili’s phone appearsagain. This time, she’s close enough that I can hear the distinctiveclickthat tells me she’sdefinitelytaking photos. She fiddles with the settings for a few seconds, and then a flash goes off, temporarily blinding me.

I cross my arms and scowl at my sister. “Seriously?”

“I promised Bash I’d send some pics of you ‘working.’”

“Iamworking,” I state, ignoring the air quotes she used.

“It’s fun, annoying you. Plus, we’re worried.”

I’m shaking my head, focused on the first sentence, so the second one takes an extra second to sink in. “Wait, what? Worried? Why?”

Lili lowers her phone and leans forward. “Do you want to work here?”

“Idowork here,” I reply, stating the obvious again.

“I know. But do youwantto?”

I sigh, realizing where she’s headed with this.

“It’s a simple question, Kit.”

“It’s a complicated answer, Lili.”

She sinks back in the chair with a matching, knowing sigh. “Yeah, I know.”

We each have plenty of friends who grew up with wealth. But being aKensingtonis more than money. It’s expectations and intrigue and legacy.

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