Hot Asset (21 Wall Street #1)(61)

Kennedy shakes his head, and Matt just looks at me.

“All right, you win,” I say, throwing up my hands. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. You guys happy now?”

“Do you like her?” Kate asks.

“Obviously,” Kennedy snipes.

“Ian knows what I mean,” Kate says, not looking away from me.

I nod. “Yes. But I don’t know how to tell her that I want to try for real. I don’t even know how.”

“Harry Winston,” Kennedy suggests.

“Nah,” Matt says. “Jewelry’s too intense. Go with bags. Women like a good handbag. Louis Vuitton.”

“Oh my gawd,” Kate says in exasperation. “No wonder the lot of you are single. Hold on.” She leaves my office, comes back a minute later, and slaps a business card in front of me. “Call this number. And no, I won’t call it for you. There are some things a man ought to do for himself.”

I pick up the card. “Flowers?”

She nods. “They’re nice. Women like them. And they’re more first-week-relationship appropriate than a thousand-dollar handbag or diamonds.” Kate lightly slaps both Matt and Kennedy on the back of the head as she says it.

“Well, it’s technically only been a weekend, but we’ve sort of had something going on longer than that,” I say, tapping the card against my palm.

“So make it a really big bouquet.” Kate glances at her watch. “It’s nearly one. Kennedy, Matt, you both have investors coming in. Ian, you’ve got an open hour, but you should call Vanessa Lewis to let her know you won’t be needing her services anymore, and—”

A knock at the door interrupts her. Kate goes to answer it while Matt and Kennedy stand, attention already on their phones as they mentally prep for their upcoming meetings.

I’m surprised to see it’s our boss at the door. Along with his bosses, both of the Sams. I don’t recognize the man with them, but he’s the only one of the bunch who seems happy.

“Ian. You got a minute?” Joe asks quietly.

Kate shoots me an alarmed look, and Matt and Kennedy are stone-faced as they all file out of my office. None of them likes this any more than I do.

I stand and button my suit jacket. “Sure. What’s up?”

The man I don’t recognize walks toward me with a sneer disguised as a smile. “Ian Bradley, I’m Steve Ennis with the SEC. I believe you’ve met my employee Lara McKenzie.”

I manage a nod, my heart pounding.

“You’ll be working with me now,” Steve says, holding out an envelope.

“Working on what?” I glance at my bosses, but their expressions betray nothing. I glance down at the envelope and pull out the paper.

I’ve read only the first sentence when the SEC dick breaks it down for me.

“Ian Bradley, you’re suspected of receiving an inside tip regarding the dissolution of J-Conn. This is a subpoena notifying you of a formal investigation for insider trading.”

My head snaps up. “What? This is bullshit. Lara found—”

“Lara?” His eyebrows go up. “Yes, well, Ms. McKenzie is no longer working this case.”

I take a step forward, caveman tendencies I didn’t even know I had roaring to life. “I swear to God, if you fired her . . .”

Steve gives an incredulous laugh. “Fire her. Why would I do that? She’s one of my best.” He gives me a sly wink and lowers his voice. “Rumor has it, she’s on a fast track to the FBI.”

It’s not until they all file out of my office moments later with a firm warning not to leave town that I realize what Steve Ennis just implied.

Lara sold me out to get her dream job.





30

LARA

Week 5: Monday Afternoon

Unemployment sucks.

But not being able to get ahold of Ian sucks more.

He’s not answering his calls. Or his text messages. I briefly got ahold of Kate, but she was on the other line and said she’d have to call me back.

She didn’t.

I even tried to get ahold of Sabrina, but the woman’s a ghost. I couldn’t find her contact information anywhere.

I’d finally gone over to Wolfe Investments myself, but the place is like Fort Knox, and without my contractor badge, there was no getting past the security guard. I’d had them call Ian, Kate, Matt, and Kennedy, hoping one of them would let me up to explain.

I struck out all around. So, desperate times, desperate measures, and all that.

The doorman at Ian’s apartment building still had my name on the “okay” list from Friday night, so he let me up after I’d smiled prettily and told him I was here to surprise Ian.

He’ll be surprised all right. It just might not be one he wants.

I’ve been here twenty minutes, sitting with my back propped against his door. I’ll wait as long as it takes, even if he decides to go clubbing, comes home with some other woman—

My gut wrenches. I can’t think about that.

And yet, maybe I should. Maybe I should prepare for the fact that I’m falling hard for a guy who’s known as the city’s most prolific playboy and has yet to indicate he wants a relationship.

Yes, we ate pizza together, had epic sex, sipped mimosas over brunch, and I did my laundry at his place (because he has a washer and dryer in his unit and I don’t), but none of those things is a proposal.