Hard Sell (21 Wall Street #2)(28)

“Not if you don’t want me to,” Lara says.

I look away so she doesn’t see how much the simple statement means. I always knew the time would come when I’d lose my best friend to the love of his life. Well, not lose him . . . but you know how it is. It’s always hard on friendships when both people are single and then one of them enters into a serious relationship. Schedules change, patterns shift. It’s even trickier when it’s best friends of the opposite sex.

And though technically things aren’t exactly as they were—he tells Lara things before he tells me—I’ve gained more than I’ve lost. Instead of losing a friend (Ian), I gained a new one (Lara). And it’s not just a token “play nice” sort of friendliness when the three of us are in the same room.

Case in point? Tonight’s a girls-only night. Ian’s been banished to who knows where . . . probably to Matt’s or Kennedy’s. It’s just Lara, Kate, and me.

And yup, that would be Kate Henley, Ian, Matt, and Kennedy’s assistant. Also known as one of my favorite people on the planet.

The doorbell rings, and Lara holds up a finger. “Don’t think you’re off the hook. You’re not leaving tonight without giving us a full rundown on you and Matt.”

She goes to the door and opens it for Kate, who’s got a baguette balanced across the serving dish in her hands. “Ugh, so sorry. Of course it’s the girl on appetizer duty who’s late. Are you guys starving?”

I lift my glass. “Grapes.”

“Perfect. I’ll take a fruit serving as well,” Kate says, marching into Lara and Ian’s kitchen like she owns it. “You need the oven for a few?” she asks Lara.

“Nope.”

Kate punches some buttons and sets the foil-covered baking dish inside the oven. “The artichoke dip needs fifteen minutes or so to heat. Sorry again about being late. I thought I had all the ingredients, but then I was out of salt of all things, so I had to make a last-minute store run—”

“Stop apologizing,” I say, pouring a glass of wine for Kate and setting it beside the cutting board she’s pulled out to begin slicing bread. “Do you know what Lara’s news is? She wouldn’t tell me until you got here.”

Kate practically drops the bread knife she’s just picked up. “News? What news?”

I laugh at the surprised irritation on her face. “Whaaaaat? Is it possible there is crucial information that Kate Henley wasn’t the first to know?”

As assistant to not one but three top Wolfe guys, Kate’s one of those people who’s always one step ahead of everyone.

Everyone except Lara, apparently.

“It’s my job to know stuff,” Kate says primly. “And you’re no slouch in the reconnaissance department, either.”

I clink my glass to hers. “Too true. Because knowing stuff is also my job.”

Not in the same way, of course. The type of information Kate gathers is information she’ll need to keep Kennedy, Matt, and Ian out of trouble and doing their job. The information I deal in is the kind you lock in safety deposit boxes while making a half dozen thumb-drive backups.

“Hey, knowing stuff is my job, too!” Lara chimes in. “Do you think that’s why we’ve all become friends?”

“No,” Kate says pragmatically, resuming her cutting. “Because you entered our circle thinking that Ian was guilty of insider trading. That went well.”

Lara points her spoon at Kate in warning. “My job was to investigate if he was guilty.”

“Old news. I demand a subject change,” I command, going back to my barstool perch.

“Oh, FBI Lady over there knows I’ve long forgiven her,” Kate says, blowing Lara a kiss. “I mean if Ian can sleep with the woman who almost put him in jail, I can have dinner with her.”

Lara rolls her eyes but smiles as she sets her wooden spoon aside. “Okay, active prep’s done. The sauce just needs to simmer for a while.”

“What are we having?” Kate asks.

“Sautéed chicken breast with some sort of mushroom sauce,” Lara says, waving at a cookbook. “My mother swears it’s foolproof, and since she’s not exactly Martha Stewart, I trust her.”

“Lucky,” Kate says, shoving a piece of bread in her mouth. “My mom makes Julia Child look like a slacker. Homemade everything. I thought she was going to disown me when she learned I didn’t make my own chicken stock.”

Lara glances at me over the top of her wineglass and opens her mouth, then shuts it again and looks away.

I swallow, because I know she was about to include me in the mom conversation but thought better of it. I’m not sure what Ian’s told her about my history, but none of it would be good. And though my first instinct is to stay silent, to keep that shit locked in the vault, I find a rare urge to share.

To let someone in just a tiny bit.

I take a sip of my wine for courage. “My mom once handed me a ten-dollar bill and told me it was food money for my two half brothers and me. I thought she meant while she went out that night. She came back four days later.”

Kate and Lara both stare at me for a moment, then Kate shakes her head. “Damn. You win.”

I let out a relieved laugh that I don’t have to deflect any pity, just good old-fashioned that-sucks sentiment. Because it had sucked. “I totally win.”