Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
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.”
“Yeah, because she has integrity,” I snap, even though it’s not Vanessa I’m mad at. It’s those shitheads who set me up, who forced Lara to choose between her dream of the FBI and her morals.
“I know,” Vanessa replies quietly. “What do you need from me, Ian?” She studies me. “Ah. You want your girl to get her job back.”
“Yes!” I say a little too enthusiastically. “I mean, yeah, if it’s a possibility . . .”
“It’s not impossible,” she says slowly. “But the SEC is scrambling right now. Even if Lara didn’t actually do anything wrong, her boss did a damn good job of smearing her rep.”
“But he’s guilty for corruption of justice, accepting a bribe, and being an immense dick! His word doesn’t mean shit.”
“I know that. You know that. Everyone in this room knows that. But that’s not how this world works, Ian. It’s a perception thing. Investment brokers can come back from it. Hedge fund managers can come back from it. But SEC investigators suspected of sleeping with their suspect . . .”
I shake my head. “We waited—”
“Nobody’s going to care about the timing,” she says gently. “I suspect Lara knew that all along. It speaks highly of her feelings for you.”
The words should make me elated. Instead, I’ve never been so miserable.
What’s the point of clearing my name, of getting my life back, if she’s not in it?
That’s not even the worst possibility, though, I realize as I look at the closed door to my bedroom. Worse than no Lara in my life would be having her but her not having the SEC or the FBI because of her relationship with me.
I swallow, feeling the urge to throw my drink at the wall.
I remember now why I’ve never wanted to be in a relationship.
They fucking blow.
36
LARA
Week 6: Sunday Night
Of all the treks I’ve made to Ian’s apartment over the past couple of weeks, this is without a doubt the hardest.
He opens the door at my knock, and it takes me a moment to register the sight of a wooden spoon in his hand, the smell of garlic permeating the apartment.
“Are you cooking right now?” I ask, a little bit stunned.
He gestures me in with the spoon and kisses my cheek. “I am. And you should be both flattered and worried that this is a first for me.”
“Why worried?” I step inside and shut the door.
“Because I’m ninety percent sure I burned the garlic. I couldn’t find shallots in the grocery store, so I subbed capers, which I later learned were not even close. And let’s just say deboning a chicken is a hell of a lot harder than YouTube makes it look.” He glances over his shoulder as he turns back to the stove. “Wine?”
“I’m good,” I say, going to the counter and praying for courage to do what I came here to do.
He’s already making it so hard. He’s cooking, for God’s sake. For the first time. For me.
I wouldn’t have imagined there’d be a hotter sight than Ian in his suit or, better yet, Ian naked. But this Ian does something dangerous to my heart. This Ian has ditched the tie and jacket, rolled up his dress sleeves, and looks perfectly at ease.
No, not just at ease. Happy.
And for one brief moment, I wonder if maybe this could be our life . . . together.
But then I remember it’s too soon, this happened too fast, and now we don’t have the time we need.
“How’d the résumé updating go?” he asks, stirring whatever’s on the stove.