Hot Asset (21 Wall Street #1)(43)

She needed time, and I get that—or I’ve been trying to get that. I bombarded her that night at her apartment, so I’ve tried to respect she needed a moment to sort things out, but it’s been days. Plenty of time to acknowledge my innocence.

I’m hurt, yes. But also . . . pissed.

Kennedy winds through the crowd, two drinks in hand—Manhattan for him, Negroni for me. “Kate saw you were empty.”

I accept the drink gratefully. “We don’t pay her enough. Where is she, anyway?”

“Last I saw, she was chatting up one of the juniors from Morris and Keale.”

“I don’t know any of the juniors from M and K.”

He shrugs. “Since when has that mattered? You know how this goes. They catch a whisper of free booze and big names . . .”

“Yeah, I get it,” I grumble. “Hell, that was me once.”

He gives me an exasperated look. “Ian, that was you just weeks ago.”

I grunt. He’s right, and we both know what changed me. Who changed me.

I rub a hand over the back of my neck. “When did we start getting too old for this?”

“Speak for yourself,” Matt says.

“Really?” Sabrina says to him. “I don’t see you mingling with the young sprites. You’re wallflowering with us old farts, too.”

“We’re not wallflowering because we’re actually old. We’re just . . .” I glance at Kennedy and Matt for help. “Well, what the hell are we doing over here in the corner?”

“Not getting any closer to figuring out who’s running his mouth to the SEC about you, that’s for sure,” Matt points out.

Sabrina sighs. “Hell’s frozen over, because I’m about to agree with him again. Boy Wonder is right. We’ve got the cream of the Wall Street crop all in one place, all on their way to drunk.” She drains her drink. “Break to mingle?”

“Fantastic. Because I love small talk,” Kennedy grumbles.

“Do it for Ian,” Sabrina says, patting his arm.

“That’s why I’m here. But I draw the line at talking about the weather,” he says, with a thump on the back as he says it. The gesture’s brief but telling.

I start to open my mouth to thank him. To thank all of them, but I don’t know what to say.

Kennedy gives me a brief, rare smile. “You’d do it for me.”

“Damn straight,” I say, grateful that he understands what I’m not able to put into words. “But I’d talk about the weather for you!” I call after his retreating back.

Sabrina and Matt break off as well, Sabrina to charm an MD from a competing firm, Matt to flirt with a group of women dressed in nearly identical black dresses. I’m about to join Matt and the women, figuring female interaction with someone who’s not an SEC investigator might be exactly what I need, when a hand clamps on my shoulder.

“Ian, man!” I turn and shake hands with . . . Shit, what’s his name? A director from Green Garrison . . . Jacob. Jacob Houghton.

I don’t think Kate invited him, but at this point I’m beyond caring. Maybe I’ll add a new element to my plan for the night: drink until I stop thinking about Lara. But my chances of ridding her from my mind are slim. She’s all I can think about.

“Good to see you,” I force myself to say. “Glad you could make it.”

“How you been?” Jacob asks, taking a drink of his whiskey soda.

I force a laugh. “Been better.”

He winces. “Yeah, I heard. Rough break, man.”

“Hey, the SEC’s got to pay its employees’ bills somehow, right?”

“Sure, sure.” Jacob’s barely looking at me, far more into the ass of the redhead behind me. “You think they got anything on you?”

“There’s nothing to find.” My voice has just the slightest edge, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Good for you,” he says absentmindedly as a server walks by with a plate of crab cakes. His attention’s back on me, and he leans forward slightly. “Heard you’ve got Vanessa Lewis reppin’ you. You must talk a damn good game if you’ve got her fooled.”

Before I can reply to this jackass with something that’s absolutely not cocktail-party appropriate, Kate appears by my side.

“Hey, Ian! Can I borrow you for a second?”

I glance down at her, seeing that her smile is wide and bright but there’s a nervousness to it. At first, I think it’s because she’s overheard my conversation with Jacob and thinks I’m going to cause a scene, but a moment later, I realize she’s nervous about something else entirely.

“You didn’t,” I say through clenched teeth at my assistant.

“Don’t get mad.” Kate sets a hand on my arm and pins me with a look. “Whatever this thing is, Ian, you need to deal with it.”

Kate’s right, as she usually is, but I barely hear her.

Because my brain—and my heart—can’t quite figure out what to do with the fact that Lara McKenzie is standing in my living room.





22

LARA

Week 4: Thursday Night

When I dressed this morning, I confess I thought I was looking pretty good. The sleeveless blue turtleneck matches my eyes, the gray pencil skirt does a decent job of disguising the past few weeks’ stress eating. The nude pumps are both classic and sexy.