Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Husky laughter tickles my ears. “I created a monster.” He laughs again, and then gestures to his laptop. “As much I’d love to fuck your brains out right now, I’m a tad occupied. And before you ask, no, it’s not going well. This entire day has been one big clusterfuck.”
“When it rains, it pours.”
That gets me the finger. “Thanks for that, oh wise one.”
Grinning, I sit at the foot of his bed. “What’s wrong now? You forgot to do a homework assignment or something?”
“I never forget an assignment.” His hard voice tells me he’s speaking the absolute truth. I doubt this guy has ever slacked off in his life. He clearly works like a dog.
“So what is it?”
“Minor hiccup,” he says, but the frustration returns to his gaze again, belying his casual words. “For my finance class, a major component of the final grade is an interview with a finance executive who’s raised money in the capital markets. I had an interview lined up this week with the CFO of a Stamford venture capital firm, but the fucker’s secretary just emailed to say he’s heading out of town early. And won’t be back for three weeks.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah.” He types something on his laptop. “I had all my interview questions prepped already. But now I’m sending out emails to every CFO in Connecticut requesting an interview. And on Monday I’ll have to make some cold calls.”
“What happens if you don’t find anyone?”
“I don’t have any idea.” His tone becomes glum. “I’ll have to ask my professor for help, which will reflect poorly on me. And he’ll probably send me to some young alumni who’s willing to do me a favor.”
An idea tugs at my brain. “You should come to brunch tomorrow.”
Luke stares at me. “Um. Yeah. I don’t see how that solves my problem in any way, but, thank you, I guess? I’m going to pass, though.”
I smirk at him. “Oh really? You’re going to pass on brunch with the CEO of a pharmaceutical company? They just issued convertible stock last week. It’s all my father could talk about over the holidays.”
There’s a pause. “Wait... Really?”
“Why not? My dad drives up from Long Island most Sundays to have brunch with me.” To keep tabs on me, really. “I’m inviting you to join us, moron. In fact, let me check something…” I hop off the bed and duck into my room to grab my phone.
I try not to think about it too hard as I compose a message to my father. Because didn’t I just freak out downstairs about revealing that I’m attracted to men? What if Dad sees me and Luke together and somehow knows we hooked up?
Bringing Luke to brunch has the potential to create chaos I don’t want to deal with, and yet when I return to Bailey’s room, I can’t stop myself from hitting Send.
“Who did you text?” Once again, Luke’s entire face is stiff with distrust.
“My dad. I asked him if he’d be willing to sit for an interview with you tomorrow.”
Luke’s jaw falls open. Then it snaps shut. “Hayworth.” The two syllables wield a sharp edge.
I look up from my phone. “What?”
“What the hell is this? Some kind of charity bullshit?” His cheeks flush. “I told you, I don’t need your pity.”
“It’s not pity.” I offer a shrug, my brain working to phrase everything in a way that won’t raise Luke Bailey’s hackles. I’m discovering that he’s mighty sensitive when it comes to receiving assistance. “This is an entirely selfish move on my part. I fucking hate sitting through these Sunday brunches. Usually I have Annika there as a buffer, but, well, you know what happened with that. Plus, I haven’t told Dad that I lost the election. This way I can leave that honor for you.”
It’s Luke’s turn to smirk. “Making me do your dirty work, huh? Pussy.”
My phone buzzes with a text.
Dad: Your fraternity brother is more than welcome, son. I must say, I am overjoyed that you’re finally taking an interest in the business. Looking forward to discussing the ins and outs of convertibles with you boys.
“Dad says he’s happy to talk to you,” I tell Luke. “So what do you say? Let me use you shamelessly so I don’t have to engage one-on-one with my father?”
“Sure. I’m in.”
And although I’m pleased that Bailey accepted my help, I find it incredibly telling that he only agreed to it when he thought I was using him. Someone helping him from the goodness of their heart is completely inconceivable to him, and damned if that isn’t one of the saddest things I’ve ever encountered.
Presentable
Luke
When my alarm goes off on Sunday morning at nine thirty, I throw my legs over the side of the bed, and force myself to wake up. I had another long shift at the club last night, followed by a long bus ride home. But now I need to look sharp and charm Mr. Keaton Hayworth Jr. into giving me enough detail about his capital structure to write a paper.