20
English
As I slipped into my black cocktail dress for Penn and Natalie’s wedding reception tonight, my stomach twisted with doubt. I hadn’t gone to see Court. We hadn’t discussed what I’d seen. Or the assumptions I had made about him.
I kept wanting to do it. To tell him that I was wrong about what I’d said to him. Not that he’d given me an indication that he was in someway a different sort of person than he presented to anyone else. And it was unfair for him to place all the blame on me for not seeing past his facade. But I should have.
That was part of my job. To see my client for who they were and work toward a mutual, beneficial outcome. But I’d been blind to that. My research had all indicated that Court Kensington was a hellish playboy with no ambition and a streak of stupidit
