Hot Asset (21 Wall Street #1)(68)

I shake my head and wipe my nose. “He doesn’t know I know about the other woman yet. A friend saw him out last night, all over some girl. I know I need to confront him, but—”

“What if you didn’t?”

I blink. “I can’t keep dating a cheater.”

“You could if you wanted to get back at him.” Jacob lifts his eyebrows.

“I don’t understand.”

Jacob takes another sip of wine. “I told you that you could trust me. Can I trust you?”

“Sure, of course,” I say, the picture of confusion.

“Ian Bradley isn’t a good man, Lara. He’s the worst kind of Wall Street cliché—arrogant, womanizing, filthy rich even by Wall Street standards . . .”

“Yes, but is he a criminal?”

“Guys like that don’t get where they are by being innocent. Surely you’re not that naive, no matter how good-looking the guy is.” He smiles, as though to soften the chastisement, and takes yet another sip of wine.

“You’re right,” I say with a self-deprecating slump. “The whole J-Conn thing felt dirty, but I couldn’t get a single person to come forward to testify.”

Jacob leans in with a smug expression. “Couldn’t you?”

I give him a puzzled frown. “I don’t understand. There’s nobody except . . .” My eyes go wide. “Oh my gosh. You were Steve’s confidential informant?”

He spreads his arms to the side with a rueful smile. “Guilty. I’m sorry Steve couldn’t tell you. We thought it’d be best to keep it under wraps as long as possible, given his and my connection.”

My mind is racing. Even though we knew—or at least had a darn good hunch—Jacob was the source, hearing him admit it makes me slightly nauseous. I glance at the back of Sabrina’s head, her stillness telling me she heard everything. Even better, the woman she’s with seems to be listening, too.

“Do you think it’ll hold up?” I ask. “It’s your word against his . . .”

“What if it wasn’t just my word?” He takes a sip of wine. “What if it was our word?”

“But I never found anything. You actually have information.”

“Eh.” He gives what I’m sure he imagines is a charming, boyish grin and shrugs a shoulder. “I may have exaggerated the depth of my knowledge.”

“Does Steve know?”

“Sure, he knows. He gets a fat check for playing along.”

I fiddle with my napkin to hide my barely contained fury at the man across the table from me, as well as the man who was my boss. My mentor. “What would I do?”

He shrugs. “Maybe you heard him bragging about the whole thing to a friend. Maybe a former J-Conn exec mysteriously shows up in his list of contacts, which you find on his phone.”

I stare at him wide-eyed. “I couldn’t.”

“Sure you could,” he says, filling up my glass even though I’ve barely touched it. “You get your job back. Ian Bradley gets what’s coming to him.”

I sit back in my chair with a little laugh. “I can’t believe it. All this time, I thought I was missing something, but you don’t actually have anything tying him to J-Conn, do you? You and Steve set him up.”

Jacob gives a cocky wink. “Sure did. The man’s slick, but not nearly as smart as he thinks he is.”

The moment is so quick, so subtle, I think maybe I’ve dreamed it, but the way Sabrina turns her head slightly tells me I haven’t.

Jacob Houghton just confessed to framing Ian for insider trading—with Steve’s help.

I shift my legs, purposely dropping my napkin.

A minute later, all hell breaks loose.





33

IAN

Week 5: Thursday, Lunchtime

Later, when I recall the look on Jacob Houghton’s face when I approach his table, I’ll laugh. In the moment, however, I only have eyes for Lara.

I reach for her immediately, my hand finding her back as she stands, turning to face me with obvious relief.

“What the hell?” Jacob sputters.

“No,” Lara says with an angry hiss, lifting a finger to him. “You don’t get to be outraged. You set him up.”

“He cheated on you!” Jacob says incredulously. “And you’re defending him?”

“I don’t cheat,” I interrupt in a warning tone. “Not in my professional life or in my personal life.”

Jacob makes a scoffing noise. “Right. You’re a regular Boy Scout, I’m sure.”

“You lied,” Lara says, seething. “You and Steve both lied.”

I press my palm more firmly against her back to steady her, even as a part of me would love to see her lunge at Jacob, as I sense she’s itching to do.

Jacob laughs. “Oh, Lara. You’re worse off than I imagined. He wound you around his finger, then sent you in here for a confession.”

“This was my idea,” she says, giving him a steady look.

“Huh,” he says, looking surprised. “I can see why Steve always thought so highly of you. But, no matter.” He picks up his glass and finishes the rest of his wine. “It’s my word against yours, and nobody’s going to believe a suspected criminal and his—”