Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
So I thought.
Walking into Ian’s apartment, I feel like an utter frump.
Who are these people who look better at six o’clock on a Thursday than I do after primping for a black-tie wedding?
The men in expensive suits, I can get. I’m used to that. It’s the women who throw me a bit. The strappy high-heel sandals, the short cocktail dresses, the flawless makeup.
It’s a good reminder that this is Ian Bradley’s world—glamorous, expensive, and elite. A world to which I don’t and will never belong.
That’s never bothered me before. I’m not sure it bothers me now. I like who I am. I like that I own more pantsuits than cocktail dresses, that I work hard in a profession I believe in.
I’m okay not fitting in here. What I’m less okay with is what that means for Ian and me.
“Lara, hi. I wasn’t sure you’d actually come,” Kate says as I’m ordering a drink at the makeshift bar.
“I wasn’t sure, either. I nearly chickened out,” I admit, turning to face her. I quickly scan the room, but it’s packed wall-to-wall, and I don’t see Ian. “Is he here?”
She gives a slight smile. “It’s his apartment. I should hope so.”
“Okay, I’ll rephrase. Does he know I’m here?”
She looks away and doesn’t answer, the first time I’ve seen Kate anything less than forthright.
My heart sinks. “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.”
“No. You stay,” she says determinedly. “There are only so many places he can hide.”
“Do you think anyone will know who I am?”
“Probably,” she says. “Or they’ll at least know what you are. They’re all in Prada heels, and you look like a government worker.”
“Um, ouch,” I mutter, even though I know she’s right.
“Just remember why you’re here.” Then she gives me a curious look. “Why are you here? You never said why you wanted to come.”
I give her a steady look. “No, I didn’t.”
“A hint?”
“Kate,” I say mildly. “If I wanted to go through a messenger, I would have done so already.”
She sighs. “Fine. Can’t blame a girl for trying. Okay, so look. He’s a little pissed at me for telling you about the party, and he’s a little pissed at you for . . . well, I don’t know what. We need to figure out a way to get you two alone.” She nibbles her lip. “I’m just not sure how. He’s not as easy to handle as he was before.”
“Before what?” I ask, taking a large sip of my wine.
Kate pats my arm. “Before you.”
My head snaps up as I stare at her, my heart thumping. “Before me. What does that mean?”
Kate merely smiles enigmatically and scans the room, then points toward the sliding glass doors on the far side of the living room that lead to a balcony. “Go wait out there, just until I can be sure he won’t cause a scene.”
I laugh. “I’m being sent outside? Like a dog that destroyed a pillow?”
“Yes, but I’m getting you a refill first,” she says, pulling my wineglass out of my hand and holding it up for the bartender. Then she thrusts it back at me and points. “Ten minutes. Max.”
I do as I’m told, mostly because the thought of standing out on the balcony sounds vastly preferable to making small talk in here. Nobody is paying me any attention—yet. But that’ll all change the second I get the so, what do you do? query and word spreads like wildfire that they have the enemy in their midst.
“Truffle arancini?” A slim woman in a black-and-white server’s uniform presents a tray in front of my face.
“No, thanks,” I say with a smile.
She pivots and presents the tray in her other hand. “Lobster toast?”
Damn. So this is how the other side parties.
“No, thank you. I’m good.”
She moves on with her lavish snacks, and I step out onto the balcony. On my walk over here, it was sunny, but it’s started to cloud over thanks to an approaching summer thunderstorm, so I’ve got the whole area to myself. Not that it’s particularly large. It’s not a grill on the deck and sip beer kind of space. But it’s nice.
Who am I kidding, it’s more than nice. The guy lives on the fifty-sixth floor of a fancy high-rise with a view of the Freedom Tower.
I take a sip of my wine and try to enjoy the view without thinking about how much it stings that Ian didn’t so much as come over to say hello. Just a few nights ago he was kissing me. Now he won’t even look at me, won’t answer my calls, won’t agree to a meeting.
Still, I get it. He needed something I couldn’t give. Not then, not until I’d seen the case all the way through.
But I can now. It’s why I’m here.
“May I join you?”
I turn and do a double take when I recognize the woman stepping out onto the balcony. She’s the one I saw Ian with at lunch a few weeks ago, and she’s even more gorgeous up close. She’s got long, thick black hair that falls almost to her waist, piercing blue eyes, an angular but striking face, and if I’m going to be perfectly honest here . . . rather spectacular boobs.