Hot Asset (21 Wall Street #1)(46)

Kennedy leans down slightly toward me. “Don’t worry, eventually you get used to them.”

I smile, a little flustered at being surrounded by Ian’s inner circle. I’ve spoken with both Matt and Kennedy over the course of the investigation, but it’s always been formal to the point of borderline chilly. Not that they’re giving me warm fuzzies right now. In fact, all three of them are watching me. Not glaring, but I have the distinct sense that they’re trying to figure out what the hell I’m doing here.

I don’t blame them. This isn’t my scene—at all. Not only that, I’ve always made a point of separating my professional from my personal life, separating work from after work. Before this case, I’d never once blurred those lines. But as with everything having to do with Ian Bradley, I’m breaking my own rules. All of them.

I hope it’s worth it.

I let my gaze sweep around the balcony, making eye contact with all three of them to let them know that while I’m not the enemy, I’m not a pushover, either. “I’m here to talk to Ian.”

“At his cocktail party,” Matt says dubiously.

“Yes, well, if your friend hadn’t decided to play the game of avoid the SEC for three days straight, perhaps I wouldn’t have had to crash his party.”

“It’s important?” Matt asks.

I nod. “It is.”

“You think he’s innocent.”

This comes from Kennedy, and it’s not a question. It gives me a good indication of why he’s so good at what he does. Ian plays on wit and stubbornness, Matt on smiles and flattery, but Kennedy gets what he wants with quiet command and competence.

“Oh, for God’s sake, let her talk to him,” Sabrina says, waving at the two men.

“You say that like you’re not his lead guard dog most of the time,” Matt snaps.

“She thinks he’s innocent,” Sabrina insists.

“Actually,” I interject, “all she said was that she needs to speak to him.”

Matt cuts me a quick glance with his blue eyes. They’re darker than Ian’s and usually friendlier, although I suspect that’s a deliberate effect. The man didn’t take Wall Street by storm in his early twenties just by being cute.

Although he is that. Very.

“All right, then,” Kennedy says, opening the door. “Matt, you’re up.”

“On it.”

Matt hands his cocktail glass to Sabrina, who accepts it with an eye roll, and then walks back into Ian’s living room.

“All right, everyone, time to clear out,” he says in a commanding voice.

The noisy chatter of a successful cocktail party falters slightly as they all look toward him, trying to assess if he’s serious.

“You heard the man,” Sabrina says, sweeping into the room. “We’re taking this party elsewhere.”

“How about your place, darlin’—party for two? Or three, I’m game.” A drunk, douchey-looking guy laughs as he says it, leering at Sabrina.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Ian step forward, his gaze ice-blue and murderous as he searches for the speaker.

Sabrina lifts a hand to halt her friend, then slaps her other hand against Matt’s chest, who’s also stepped forward. “What’s your name, pet?” she purrs at the drunken guy.

“Sean.”

“Sean . . . ?”

“Galen.”

“Lovely to meet you,” Sabrina says with a warm smile. Then she claps her hands like a mom at a soccer party. “Okay, boys and girls, we’re moving this party to the Brandy Library. Drinks on Sean Galen. Be sure to get whatever you want; Sean’s feeling very generous tonight.”

“Hey!” the man exclaims, just sober enough to realize what’s happening. “You can’t just—”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Sabrina puts a hand to her chest as though appalled by her faux pas. “Can you not afford it?”

I press my lips together to stifle my laughter. It’s well played. The Brandy Library is a ridiculously expensive cocktail bar, with every top-shelf liquor a booze snob could dream of.

The bill will be unthinkable.

But not as unthinkable as a power player having to admit that he can’t pay.

He swallows and forces a smile. “I got it. Everyone enjoy themselves. On me.”

Sabrina gives him a condescending pat on the shoulder, and Kate buzzes around the room, plucking glasses out of hands and ushering everyone toward the door as Kennedy hands wads of cash to the servers and bartenders and sends them off as well.

He catches my eye and winks.

It all happens so fast, I barely register just how thoroughly the situation’s been handled until Kennedy and Kate pause in the doorway of the now empty apartment.

Kate looks at Ian. “You good?”

He only glares.

Kennedy nods and puts his hand on Kate’s back, ushering her into the hallway. “Yeah, he’s good.”

A moment later, the door closes.

And then it’s just me, a bunch of empty glasses, and one very pissed-off-looking Ian Bradley.





23

IAN

Week 4: Thursday Night

“So. The SEC makes house calls now,” I say, turning away from Lara and walking toward the now deserted bar.