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 let’s hear it,” Sabrina says, pushing her soggy Caesar salad around her plate. “You only drag me to this tourist trap with crappy food when you need to ask me for something and you don’t want Wall Street to know about it.”
I nod in thanks as the waiter brings another drink. He doesn’t ask if my barely touched burger is okay, probably because he knows how overcooked it is, how stale the bun is, and doesn’t want to deal with it. I don’t mind. It’s a liquid-lunch kind of day anyway.
“I need Vanessa Lewis.”
Sabrina lets out a long breath. “Damn. You don’t ask for favors often, but when you do, they’re whoppers. If you think I’m exclusive with the clientele I take on, Vanessa’s even more exclusive.”
“Why do you think I called you? I’ve called her office; she won’t give me the time of day, and I need her to. She’s the best damn defense attorney in the city. If she got Ray Iris off charges of that Ponzi scheme, she can get me out of bogus insider-trading accusations.”
Sabrina swirls her wine. “She only takes on clients she believes to be innocent. She likes to win, but only when she believes it’s truly justice.”
“Which is what this would be,” says a newcomer.
Sabrina and I both glance up to see Matt Cannon plop down on her other side.
“How the hell did you find us?” I ask.
“Please,” he says, reaching over, picking up Sabrina’s fork, and taking a bite of her salad. “You always come here when you’re in a mood. God only knows why.” He points the fork at the salad. “That is disgusting.” He washes it down with a sip of her wine.
“By all means,” she purrs in a dangerous voice that generally means die. “What’s mine is yours.”
“Really?” he asks, turning toward her, his gaze dropping to her cleavage.
“Go ahead. Try it,” she says. “I’ve been in a castration sort of mood lately.”
I wince. “Can you two kids pretend to get along, just until the end of this meal?”
Matt jerks his chin toward my plate. “What’s that?”
Wordlessly, I hand him the plate.
“Are we aware of the SEC agent at ten o’clock?” Matt asks, taking a bite of the burger without looking toward Lara’s table.
“Yes. We’re ignoring her,” Sabrina says.
I nod in agreement, though, truth be told, it’s taking every ounce of willpower not to glance her way. I refuse to give her the satisfaction, even if I’m starved for a look. Interaction. Anything.
It’s been three days since we went toe to toe in the conference room with only a Starbucks Frappuccino between us. A day and a half since the guys told me to steer clear of her.
And I’ve been aware of every damn minute.
Partially because it goes against my nature to sit on my hands and bide my time, but also because the sheer challenge of her makes me feel alive.
“Ian wants Vanessa Lewis,” Sabrina says, filling Matt in on our conversation.
Matt nods. “As he should. But I told him you couldn’t get her.”
I roll my eyes. He told me no such thing, but I know what he’s up to. A bull with a red cape waved in its face has more restraint than Sabrina when Matt issues a challenge. They’re two of my best friends, but their relationship with each other is contentious on a good day.
“It’s Vanessa Lewis,” Sabrina says in exasperation. “Her schedule’s booked up for years—”
“Isn’t that why everyone pays you the big bucks?” Matt asks, pulling her napkin off her lap and using it to wipe ketchup from his bottom lip. “Because you’re supposed to be the best at getting people what they want? Get Vanessa for Ian.”
“I am the best,” she snaps. “But I don’t just ‘get people’ because you command it.”
Matt shrugs. “Sounds like you can’t get her.”
“I—”
“Guys.” I hold up my hands. “This mutual hatred is exhausting.”
“I’ll make some phone calls,” Sabrina mutters, pulling out the red leather book she carries with her everywhere and making a note. “But you need a backup list, Ian. Despite what Boy Wonder here thinks, I’m not a magician.”
Matt nods. “Kennedy and I can help with a list.”
I’m barely listening. I’d finally given in to the urge to look at Lara’s table again, but she’s gone.
I try to tell myself that what I feel is relief.
I hate like hell that it’s not.
8
LARA
Week 2: Monday Morning
“It’s like I told you,” Kate Henley says in a smooth go to hell tone. “Mr. Bradley’s unavailable at the moment.”
“At the moment?” I ask in exasperation. “He’s been unavailable for nearly a week.”
“He’s extremely busy.”
“So am I,” I snap. “I was assured by Mr. and Mrs. Wolfe that I’d have this company’s full cooperation.”
“And you have our full cooperation. What can I do for you?”
The words are pure honey and completely belie her bite me expression that tells me I’m being fed a line. I inhale for patience. “You can get me a spot on Mr. Bradley’s calendar.”