Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107262 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107262 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
“Like your friends Ollie and Austin?” she guesses, poking around and hoping to strike informational pay dirt. “I hear you have a new fifth at your little poker games too. A newcomer, Noah? He’s making quite the splash, buying up real estate to create an insta-empire.” Her red lips curl with amusement before she takes a sip of her drink.
I can’t fault her. It’s what she does, and she’s damn good at it. But I’m not selling out people I care about. Those I don’t? Maybe.
I nod, giving her a calculating look. “I have met Noah,” I say, not confirming where or when. “I wish him the best with his… what did you call it? Insta-empire.” I also don’t use my own language to describe Noah’s business buying strategy, but rather echo hers, not agreeing or disagreeing with her.
It’s a careful game we both play.
Vanna smiles serenely, as if something in my words answered a question for her, though I’m not sure how it could. She picks up her latte again after tapping her nails that match her lips perfectly on the cup, taking a polite sip as she looks over the rim of the cup at me. “How hospitable of you,” Vanna says. I give her a dark look, ready to deal with the issue at hand. “I also hear you’ve taken a very personal interest in ‘mentoring’ one of your new, and rather beautiful, junior associates.”
“That would be singular, perhaps.” No doubt, she’s aware, so I don’t deny it. Certainly not now that we’re public. But still, my throat is tight knowing all too well how reality can be twisted and so many don’t bother with the truth.
“Perhaps there’s been gossip that would bode well in the papers,” she starts.
I growl and lean forward so she hears this loud and clear. “Tread carefully, Vanna. Very carefully.”
Rather than falling, her smile grows into something akin to eagerness and her eyes flare. She has no less than five follow-up questions she wants to ask, but my reaction is enough of an answer… for now. So she sets her latte down and gives a queenly nod. “I understand what you want, and I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you,” I say, truly meaning it.
"Don’t forget this is a tit-for-tat arrangement, though, Dylan. If I do this for you, I will expect something in return… at some point.”
Her eyes narrow as she watches my reaction.
Don’t I fucking know it. That’s why I haven’t been willing to cross this bridge until now when Raven was at risk. I offer a simple nod, not knowing exactly what the price will be. Whatever it is, to get Evan away from Raven, it will be worth it.
“Deal, then?” she asks.
I give her a terse nod, feeling like I’ve made a deal with the devil, but I would be willing to do so much worse for Raven. I would burn the entire world to the ground if she asked me to. Fuck, she wouldn’t even have to ask. One bat of her lashes and I’d do it gratefully.
Still reeling from our discussion and plan, I go back to the office, where I immerse myself in work until the end of the day. Not a single task could hold my focus, but I made headway, at least. It’s only five forty-five when my door opens and Raven comes almost bounding in, her face filled with excitement. “I did it!”
Tamara must’ve stepped away from her desk. Either that, or Raven blasted past her in joyful bliss.
With a cocked brow of interest, I push my keyboard aside, amused. “And what did you do, Miss Hill?”
My use of her name reminds her that it’s still early, but she barely seems to register it. “Mr. Sharpe,” she says most professionally, her eyes still alight. “I did it. My first seven-figure day.”
My lips pull into an uncontainable smile. With the rumors and all, not a damn CEO in this city would claim they didn’t want to fuck her too. Gorgeous, brilliant, and worth seven figures her first month… Let the gossip light the damn city on fire for all I care.
The average associate in my firm works two hundred and forty days a year, accounting for weekends, trading holidays, and time off. The max someone can work is about two hundred and fifty, give or take a leap year or strange Monday holiday here or there.
For someone below the level of a senior trader to make a million dollars in a week is an accomplishment. For a junior trader to do it in a day is something someone gets to hang their hat on for a long time. For someone who’s technically a probationary associate? It’s fucking unheard of.
Until Raven.
And hearing the happiness in Raven’s voice, I can tell that not only is she excited, but she’s expecting more days like this. It’s only the beginning for her. She reminds me of how I was at the start of my career… addicted to that rush.