Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29423 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 147(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29423 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 147(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
“Good advice. Good advice. Hey, you’re not going anywhere, are you? Your plate’s nearly full.” He points to the sandwich I never got around to eating.
“Lost my appetite.”
“I never had mine in the first place. Like I said, not a great place. Let’s meet up at your club next time?”
I stand. “Probably not.”
Rick’s eyes widen. “Why are you saying that?”
“I don’t like you. I don’t know how you got an invite to Shift’s charity event, but I don’t foresee you getting another one.”
“You barely know me,” he yells at my back as I’m leaving.
I know enough. Harlow needed me to be there. Fate, God, some higher power said she needed saving. Who am I, a mere mortal, to argue with the heavens?
Back at my office, my assistant Trident hurries over to take my overcoat. “You were gone for so long,” he tuts. “The office almost fell apart.”
“Almost but not quite.”
“Well, I”—he puts his hand on his chest—”am here so of course it is still standing.”
“That’s why I pay you the big bucks.” I shrug out of my suit jacket and hand that to Trident, too.
“You should be paying a stylist more money. Where did you get that hideous tie?”
I glance down at what I have now dubbed my lucky tie. “I don’t know but get used to it. I’ll be wearing it to every deal negotiation from now until the robots take over.”
Trident grimaces. “I’m going to need a raise in order to endure things like that. Are those tiny goats on the silk?”
I flip up the end. “No idea. While you’re crying about my clothes, I’m going to need you to prepare a dossier on the board members of The Grand. It’s a co-op condo building—”
“I know what The Grand is. That gorgeous limestone in the middle of Park and Seventh? I drool over the iron gates every time I walk by it.”
“I didn’t know you lived over there.” Last thing I knew, Trident lived on the thirty-third floor of a high-rise overlooking the park.
“It was when I dated that theatre actor whose daddy was the hedge fund manager at Beluga & Beluga. The daddy was not a Beluga, but they had quite a bit of money and owned a townhouse just up the street from The Grand. Kenny, that’s the actor, wanted his daddy to buy him a condo there, but they just never go up for sale. Kenny insisted that all his daddy had to do was offer someone the right amount of money, but his daddy said that the co-op board votes on whether you’re fit to even get a tour of the place. I’m dying to go inside. I’m going to do these interviews in person.” He picks up a notebook and starts for the closet where he just deposited my overcoat.
“What are you going to say as your pretextual excuse for going there?” I’m not opposed, only curious. Trident is always getting himself into shenanigans. It’s amusing and half the reason I employ him.
“That I’m investigating a stolen art piece. I read this article in the news the other day about fakes being sold out of museum art collections.” He waggles his eyebrows. “Juicy, isn’t it?”
“Hmm.” I think of my own art collection.
“Don’t worry. None of yours are fake.” He reads me well. “Now tell me why I’m investigating The Grand’s co-op board?”
“Because I’m getting married to someone who is about to buy a condo, and the board approval is this Friday.”
“Hello, back the truck up. What did you just say?”
“I’m getting married.” I slap Trident on the back. At my office door, I turn back. “Thanks for your congratulations.”
He gives me the finger, which makes me laugh for at least a full minute.
Chapter Four
HARLOW
It starts to rain halfway from the condo to the bus stop. The bus stop is also one of those that is just a pole and a sign. No bench, no protective overhang. It’s also a half mile away from the condo because none of those people need a bus. Their staff probably use public transport, but the residents all drive foreign cars with the fancy emblems that probably cost more than a year’s metro pass. But today the rain, the distance, the smell of my soggy wool skirt doesn’t bother me at all.
I’m not tired either despite staying up until two in the morning finishing the feasibility report for the new eco-friendly laundry scent pods our client is launching. I wanted to get the report done earlier, but I had been waiting on the other people on the team to get the supply numbers together. Numbers aren’t my forte, but after fighting with the spreadsheet application for more hours than I want to admit, I was able to put together something that made sense. None of that matters now.
I’m going to keep my grandma’s home. Sure, I have to pretend to marry some guy who lied in his dating profile, but like he said, doesn’t everyone lie? I should have lied too. Like that’s the first rule of internet safety. I was just dumb about it. Well, not dumb but not as savvy as I could have been. He was truthful when we met in person and corrected all of his previous mistruths, so it’s all good. Great, even. I wave to Jill, the receptionist, and almost skip into the break room to make myself a cup of fake cafe latté. Fake because it’s from a mix, but I’m too cheap to order a real one from the cafe downstairs.