Real Regrets

REAL REGRETS Copyright © 2023 by C.W. Farnsworth www.authorcwfarnsworth.com All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Published by C.W. Farnsworth LLC Cover Design by Kim Wilson Edited by Tiffany Persaud Proofread by Alison Maxwell To regret deeply is to live afresh. HENRY DAVID THOREAU CONTENTS Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Epilogue Acknowledgments About the Author Also by C.W. Farnsworth AUTHOR’S NOTE Real Regrets can be read as a complete standalone, but it follows characters and storylines first introduced in Fake Empire. If you’re planning to read both books, Fake Empire should be read first. Happy reading! Charlotte REAL REGRETS A bachelor party in Las Vegas is the last place Oliver Kensington wants to spend a long weekend. He likes controlling outcomes, not the uncertainty of gambling. For the most part, his reputation as the reliable, responsible Kensington brother is well-deserved. But for one of the few people he considers a friend, he’ll show up in sin city. Oliver’s focus is on work—and on getting back into his father’s good graces. But he’s not expecting absolution for past mistakes; Arthur Kensington doesn’t forgive. So when an offer to forget is made as soon as Oliver returns to New York, it’s shocking. And it’s the same demand his father made years ago: to marry a woman as part of a business arrangement. This time, there’s no chance his brother Crew will be the one waiting at the end of the aisle, which is how Oliver’s last engagement ended. The answer should be obvious. Most of Oliver’s life has centered around earning his father’s approval and becoming CEO, both of which he thought were lost opportunities. Learning they’re not should be the best news he’s received all year. Problem is, there’s a piece of paper in his pocket that says he’s already married…to the blonde woman he met in the bar of a Vegas hotel. REAL REGRETS C.W. FARNSWORTH PROLOGUE OLIVER “Don’t answer.” I look away from the buzzing phone at my father’s proud profile. Chin raised; shoulders squared. He’s backlit by a single lamp that casts a golden glow over the study that’s almost an exact replica of his office in New York. Oiled leather, dark wood, and expensive whiskey are the sights and smells I associate with my father. We’re thousands of miles from Kensington Consolidated’s headquarters, but it feels like we could be sitting in his corner office overlooking Manhattan. “It’s Crew.” “Don’t answer,” he repeats. “Stock is in fucking freefall. Everyone will be panicking, and we’re both out of the country.” My father sips his whiskey, appearing unbothered. “Dad,” I try again. “You can’t just leave him on a sinking ship without telling him—” “I’ll do whatever I damn well want, Oliver.” His voice is so soft, so low, that I automatically flinch. Loud, angry exclamations don’t wound the same way quiet, intentional statements do. “And you’re neither a current or future CEO, so your opinion is irrelevant.” He sips from the glass tumbler he’s holding, staring at the snow that glitters under the starry sky. Words meant to maim. Meant to sting. Meant to hurt. I swallow and nod, compartmentalizing the ache those words incite. Falling short has always been my biggest fear, and Arthur Kensington knows it. Uses it. Dangles his approval up ahead, part of a peak above a mountain he’ll never let me reach the top of. I’m the fool who keeps climbing anyway. He tosses back the final inch of his drink and stands suddenly. Glass doors lead out to the patio that’s been coated with snow and ice every visit for the past decade but is probably pleasant in other seasons. My father stares at the endless stretch of white, his body language just as still and unmoving as the frozen water. “Ethan Gorton will be accompanying me to Chicago next week.” My spine stiffens, the ice in his voice chilling my skin and spreading through my veins. “I’ve worked on that offer for two months.” “You’re needed in New York. Scarlett is expecting, and Crew’s focus will be affected. Pregnant women are volatile and needy. Be glad you’re not about to discover that for yourself.” I pull in a harsh breath of air as he carelessly brushes against the topic I’m terrified to raise. My relationship with my father has always been centered around work. When I answered his summons, it was easy to pretend the company’s insider trader investigation was the only current catastrophe. Easy…and cowardly. Suitcases line the front hall. I step forward, sucking in another deep breath, as if oxygen equals courage. “Dad, I’m so sorr—” I don’t see it coming. One second, I’m moving toward the tense figure facing the snow. The next, I’m nearly toppling backward as black dots explode across my vision, reeling from the impact and the shock of the physical blow. I gape at him, stunned speechless and still. My father has never, ever been the warm and coddling type of parent. He issues orders and makes demands. He doesn’t ask questions or attempt small talk. But he’s never hit me. Previous punishments were long silences or heavy stares. He’s always preferred to let his disappointment do the talking, to smother me like a heavy blanket. Pain trickles