cannibal; kendall roy

31

The Hamptons.

Marguerite hadn't been with Kendall, or any of the Roys since she was a child, and certainly not while there was still a slight chill in the air. Kendall had also, for some reason insisted on riding in on a motorcycle, meaning that they'd both suffered a case of helmet hair. Well, Kendall's was worse. Marguerite had put her hair in two rather childish, thick braids, which trailed past her shoulders slightly.

Her coat, which had been a vintage mink, felt as if it was too thick and had just been escorted through hell. Her sunglasses, felt licked with sweat and stuck to her face unnaturally as she pulled them off and placed them into her pockets. "I haven't been here since I was a kid." She says softly "I came here for summer holiday when I was thirteen. Remember?"

He shook his head "I don't think I was there for that. I met you for the first time on the boat, remember?" He smiles a little, it was a small grin before leading her into his father's house.

A housekeeper eagerly stepping out "Welcome! Apologies. We'll have everything straight just as soon as-"

"Oh no, I'm-" he corrects himself "We're early."

Marguerite peers over "Can we have a room though? An office space? I do have work I need to do." She shoots Kendall an apologetic look

Work.

It was honestly the first time Kendall had seen her do anything other than drink or smoke or snort since she was basically eighteen. Even in her Vogue days, he felt like she had more time for him. He was usually the one who had to cancel, or focus on his laptop screen. Now it was her.

Yeah, he was a little jealous of his girlfriend. After all, she had everything he didn't. Power, and a company.

"Oh, um. Well I think Mr. Roy was actually-"

Kendall cuts her off "It's good. Don't worry. Just, uh, carry on. We aren't here. I'll take her to figure something out." And with that he leads Marguerite away from the woman, who appears to be more than stressed.

Only for him to instantly turn around "What is the uh?"

"Sorry about the smell. We're working on that."

"God, that's bad."

"I can't work with the smell, can I just go to a car? Or the guest house? I really have to do some-"

"Lou, come on." He says "We just got here. Give it a minute."

"I have-"

"I know. Trust me. I know, but give it a minute. Okay? I promise you can send your little fuckin' emails and plan your meetings."

She scoffs "Kendall, really? I think you're seriously underestimating-"

"The fuck is that?" He asks again, referring to the smell, causing Marguerite to storm off with her laptop back, in search of a better location to sit and work.

"Lou" he calls after her, "Lou, come back" and he begins to chase.

Eventually, he finds her sitting in the front yard, legs crossed on the bitterly brown and tinged with green grass, bits of it littered across her jeans. Her laptop open and her fingers tapping the keys carefully.
Taking a sip from her water bottle which was most definitely, not filled with water.

"Lou, get up." He says, his hands on his hips, looking down on her.

"No. I'm working."

"Are you?" He bends down, looking over her shoulder, his hands resting on her arms, reading over her emails with her COO, trying to coordinate a new ad campaign with a French influencer "Fancy" he says "You have a budget outlined yet?"