Hot Asset (21 Wall Street #1)(70)

Was our plan a bit outside the lines? Absolutely.

But if getting to know Ian and his friends has taught me anything, it’s that fighting for what’s right isn’t always as simple as following the rules. Sometimes you’ve got to bend a couple to get the bad guy.

Sabrina sails through the front door of Ian’s apartment, air-kisses Kate and me, then heads straight for the champagne bucket. “Dom! We really are celebrating.”

“Hell yes, we are,” Vanessa says as she and Sabrina air-kiss. “And may I just say, denying both those men a plea bargain? Highlight of my year.”

“How’d they think they had a chance at that?” Kennedy asks.

“They figured they’d get brownie points for a written, tell-all confession,” Vanessa says. “But since both were willing to sell out the other, neither had any bargaining power.”

“You know the part of this that’s killing me the most?” Matt drops into a chair at Ian’s kitchen table. “How the hell didn’t we think to look at Ian’s hookups first? Should have known it’d be his dick that would get him into a mess.”

Ian flinches, and I set a hand on his arm. He hasn’t said much about it, but I can tell it bothers him to know that someone he thought was a harmless fling was not only married but that it came back to bite him in the worst way possible.

Ian pulls my hand up to his lips, presses a kiss there, while Sabrina swats Matt on the head.

“Right, because you’re such a celibate monk. And Whitney was a long time ago,” she says with a pointed look at me.

I smile, appreciating the sentiment, though it’s not really necessary. I don’t exactly love thinking about Ian’s romantically prolific past, nor do I care to think about what it means for his future, our future . . .

But I’ve got bigger issues to deal with.

Ian’s mess is cleaned up, and I’m grateful. Thrilled.

My own mess is just beginning.

Ian pulls me closer, pressing his lips just above my ear. “I’m glad you’re here,” he says quietly before he pulls away to head into the kitchen.

I’m glad, too. Not just because of him and us but because of everyone else here. I don’t think he can possibly know just how starved I’ve been for friends. I have Gabby, of course, but if I’m being totally honest, I’ve always been aware that she and I probably wouldn’t have ever been friends had we not ended up living together.

This group feels different. It feels like a group I could be a part of—a group I could truly belong to.

If things were different.

“Lara, your phone’s buzzing,” Ian calls from the kitchen.

I walk toward him, letting out a squeak when he tosses me my iPhone. “What are you doing? Do I look sporty?”

“Caught it, didn’t you?” he says with a slow smile.

I did. But it probably won’t happen again.

I glance at the phone, hating that I feel a pang of dread instead of my usual excitement at the name on the screen.

“Hey, you mind if I take this in your bedroom?”

Ian waves the gin bottle in a go-ahead gesture.

I step into his room and close the door. “Hey, Mom.”

“Lara. I’m so sorry, sweetie. Dad and I just got your voice mail. You quit? Tell us everything. You’re on speakerphone.”

I lean against the door and slide all the way to the floor, blocking out the cheerful voices on the other side to bite the bullet and finally tell my parents about the utter mess I’ve made of my life.





35

IAN

Week 5: Friday, Dinnertime

After checking to see that Lara’s still in the bedroom talking with her parents, I approach my lawyer.

“Vanessa, you got a sec?”

“Sure,” she says, holding up a finger to Sabrina to indicate she’ll be right back. “What’s up?” she asks as we wander to the far side of the living room.

I scratch my cheek, a little out of my element here. I’m not in the habit of asking for favors—especially ones for my girlfriend.

Or the woman I hope will agree to be my girlfriend.

“It’s about Lara.”

“Ah, yes,” Vanessa says, sipping her champagne and lifting her eyebrows. “You know, without her . . . Let’s just say she was instrumental in this working out in your favor.”

“I know.” I’m grateful. Beyond grateful, and yet . . . hardly glad. Because I also know exactly how much this cost Lara.

I got exactly what I wanted. She got screwed.

“So, listen,” I say, running a hand over the back of my neck, trying to figure out how to tell my attorney that I’ve been sleeping with the SEC investigator.

Vanessa takes pity on me and smiles. “It’s okay, Ian. I went to Princeton. I think I can tell when two people are in love.”

The word jolts me. Both because it’s the first time I’ve heard it out loud and because I’m terrified that it feels . . .

True.

“We’re not . . . we’re just . . . Shit. I don’t know what we are.”

I only know what I want her to be—mine.

“Did you know she lost her job because of all this?” I ask Vanessa.

“Sabrina told me she quit.”