King of Wall Street: a sexy, standalone, contemporary romance (18 page)

“Maybe . . . at some point.” Would she like it here? Would she like
me
here? I wasn’t sure.

“Well it will be the dance soon anyway. Harper will come then for sure.”

I wasn’t sure Harper had actually accepted that invitation. But Amanda was happy and that was all I could wish for. The fact Harper had picked out a perfect dress didn’t hurt. I’d wondered if she’d secretly try something trashy, just to mess with me, get her own back for me being an asshole. I wouldn’t have blamed her but she hadn’t. She’d been bright and beautiful and all about Amanda. And I’d found myself wanting to extend our time together, keep her for a little bit longer.

“Who’s Harper,” my sister, Violet, asked. I smelled an interrogation brewing, and my instinct was to press pause on this situation and escape.

“I told you, the girl that works with dad who helped me pick out the dress.”

“I thought a friend of yours had gone shopping with you,” Violet said to Amanda, trying to catch my eye, but I deliberately busied myself with the salad.

“She
is
a friend of mine,” Amanda replied. “She lives in the same building in the city as dad.”

“
And
she works with your father?” Violet asked as she reached over the counter and took a chunk of cucumber and popped it in her mouth. I glanced at Amanda, who was nodding. “That seems like a strange coincidence.” She lowered her voice. “You see a pretty girl in the corridor of your building and offer her a job sharpening your pencils?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I replied and handed her the salad to put on the counter.

A bang on the door caused Amanda to squeal. “Scarlett!” My sisters were determined to overrun me tonight. Violet lived in Brooklyn, so we didn’t see her as often as Scarlett, but she still made an effort to come over once a month. I liked my sisters, but the fewer there were of them in a room at any one time, the better. I grabbed a bottle of Pinot Noir from the counter and uncorked it.

“Hey, asshole,” Scarlett said as she entered the family room.

“Nice to see you, too.” I handed her a glass of wine and kissed her on the cheek.

“I’m serious. Why didn’t you call me back?” Scarlett asked.

“When?” I asked. I didn’t remember getting a message.

“I left you a voicemail telling you about my friend April,” Scarlett said as she dropped her purse on the counter and took a stool. “She asked me to fix you two up, although God knows why.”

“I didn’t get the message.” Or maybe I’d only listened halfway through and deleted it before she could get to the bit about April. “Sorry.”

“So?” she asked.

“So what?” I asked, wanting her to change the subject. I turned back to the oven, taking out the lasagna the housekeeper had left. I never wanted to date my sisters’ friends. I was surprised they were still trying. My life was full to the brim.

“So will you take her out?” she asked as if I were stupid. To be fair, I was being deliberately obstructive. I just didn’t need my sisters interfering with my dating life. I was happy with things as they were.

“Looks like April may have competition,” Violet said. Scarlett shot her a look and Violet shrugged. “We’ve been talking a lot about Harper this evening. She’d definitely get Amanda’s seal of approval.”

I’d never had to concern myself with whether Amanda would like any of the women I’d been with. She’d never met any of them and that’s the way I liked it. It was simply coincidence Amanda had gotten to meet Harper.

Scarlett continued to chat on about April, which I could easily drown out. Harper was a little more difficult to bury. “April comes from a lovely family. She’s blonde, which I know you like.”

Did I like blondes? I wasn’t sure hair color was a deciding factor for me. Harper’s hair was chestnut brown, but had looked almost black in the rain. Images of her standing in the line for Serendipity flashed into my head. She’d looked gorgeous. Her cheeks pinked from running, her eyes bright blue. At one point she’d licked raindrops from her upper lip. It had only been Amanda’s presence that had stopped me from pushing her wet hair from her face, relishing her soft skin under my thumbs, and pressing my lips to hers. If it had been just the two of us, I would have dragged her back to the apartment and spent the afternoon naked and indulging myself in her instead of ice cream.

“What are you smiling about?” Violet asked me.

“I’m not smiling about anything.” I needed to shake these thoughts about Harper off. A taste of Harper was supposed to cure me. That had been my justification for fucking her the first time, the second time,
and
the third time. But seeing her today, relaxed, warm, and so focused on making sure Amanda was happy, had grown this buzz in my gut I had when she was around or when I thought about her. They laughed and talked together like old friends and listening to them in the changing rooms while I’d pretended to stay focused on my emails made me smile, made me feel good.

“Can I show them my dress?” Amanda asked.

“After dinner you can try it on.”

“Daddy bought me the most beautiful shoes to go with it. I’m not sure he would have, but Harper said she’d buy them if he didn’t.”

“I was always going to buy the shoes. Give me some credit. I know you can’t wear your sneakers.” Harper’s face had lit up when she’d seen the shoes. I’d wanted to ask for a pair in her size as well. Maybe I’d try to find her something similar. After all, I’d ruined her blouse.

“So I want to hear more about Harper,” Scarlett said. “How old is she? Is she pretty?”

Amanda took a spoonful of salad and stopped, thinking about the question.

“Come on, Amanda,” I said, trying to distract them away from this question. “Don’t get it all over the table.”

“My age?” Violet asked.

She nodded and dropped some salad on her plate. “I guess. Like, grown-up age. And she’s really pretty.”

They were right about that. She was very attractive.

“I’d say about twenty-five,” Scarlett said. “Gorgeous, too, and she just happens to work with Max.” I avoided Scarlett’s glances. But she was right, Harper was gorgeous. And smart. And great in bed.

“She’s one of my
employees
who happens to live in the building. Amanda begged her to go shopping with her. I’m sure it’s the last thing she wanted to do.”

“She enjoyed it,” Amanda said with total confidence. Because why wouldn’t a twenty-something enjoy going shopping with her boss and his kid? Harper had been exceptionally good about it. It had been nice to watch them together.

“Would she go out on a date with your dad, or is she too pretty for him?”

Amanda grinned. “Oh my God, that would be so awesome. And I know she doesn’t have a boyfriend.”

I pretended I wasn’t listening and took the salad spoons from Amanda and finished distributing the salad for everyone. Normally I’d have put an end to the conversation by now. I’d become good at deflecting around my dating life but this was slightly different. I found I liked the conversation about Harper—enjoyed Amanda’s reaction to her. And I didn’t mind them considering us as some kind of couple. Not that it would ever happen—we’d agreed it wouldn’t. It was just I didn’t mind it being a possibility in my family’s mind.

* * * * *

Monday I’d gotten into the office late. I’d been shopping for shoes for Harper. It had taken me too long to make the purchase, not knowing what I was doing and why. Now I was behind and grouchy and I still wasn’t decided on whether or not I’d actually give her the shoes. Next on my schedule was to follow up on the lunch invitation to Charles Jayne as Harper had suggested.

“Max, I have Margaret Hooper, Charles Jayne’s assistant, on the line for you,” Donna squawked from my speakerphone.

“Thank you.” I cleared my throat and pulled back my shoulders. Assistants had much more power than people realized, and I was sure Margaret held considerable sway with Charles Jayne.

I picked up the receiver. “Ms. Hooper, Max King of King & Associates here.” I could tell from her response, which was soft and helpful, that she was pleased I’d called her and not just asked Donna to call on my behalf. Harper had made a good suggestion. So now that Margaret was on our side, I needed to convince her to let me take Charles to lunch.

“As you know, Mr. Jayne has asked me to come in to see him on the twenty-fourth. I don’t want to waste his time.”

“You’re right, he doesn’t have much time to do anything, so how can I help?” she asked.

“I want to make the presentation as focused and helpful as possible. Now of course this benefits me because I provide Mr. Jayne with what he most needs.”

“Indeed, Mr. King,” she replied, skepticism rising in her voice.

“Please, call me Max.”

I could hear her smile across Wall Street. “Okay, Max, what is it you want?”

“I want to create a win-win situation. If I understand what it is that Mr. Jayne is looking for then our presentation won’t be a waste of anyone’s time. He’s happy. I’m happy. If I can get lunch with Mr. Jayne—”

“The problem is he doesn’t have any lunch availability between now and the twenty-fourth. His schedule books up very quickly, unfortunately.” Her tone transitioned from friendly and open to clipped and concise. I wasn’t sure if she was being honest, or if I was being given the brush-off.

“I’d be very happy to come to the JD Stanley offices and bring lunch to Mr. Jayne, if that would help?” I suggested. “Alternatively, I’ll get a table booked at La Grenouille if that would suit him.”

“I’m sorry. If it were up to me, I’d love to find space. But I’m afraid it’s not.” That sounded like a brush-off. Otherwise she’d have said she’d let me know and checked with Charles Jayne.

“That’s such a shame.” I paused a second, considering my options. Was it worth trying to press a little more or did I risk backlash?

Maybe I should mention Harper’s name. I still wasn’t clear what the bad blood was between Harper and her father. It couldn’t just be about the fact she didn’t get offered a job when she graduated. She’d indicated things went bad between them before that.

Harper knew the reason we were going to give her a slot on the presenting team was because she was Charles Jayne’s daughter, right? So she understood to a certain extent she was being used. There’s no way I’d ordinarily have a junior researcher second chair a meeting like that. But at the same time, I’d discussed that with her, sought her approval before making any decisions.

I had to decide my next move quickly or Margaret would hang up. Fuck it, this was war. “I’d hoped he’d enjoy seeing his daughter in a professional environment,” I said. Silence at the other end of the line nudged me to continue. “I was assuming Harper Jayne would join us for lunch. But I understand that Mr. Jayne is very busy.”

“Please hold the line, Mr. King,” she replied and her voice was quickly replaced with Vivaldi.

Had I just been the asshole Harper accused me of being? Was using her to get a lunch with Charles Jayne any worse than taking advantage of the fact Charles Jayne’s offer of a meeting was probably linked to her working here? The problem was none of us were sure whether or not I got the phone call from Charles Jayne because of Harper. Regardless, I hadn’t been the one to play that card—I hadn’t even known they were related. All I’d done was take advantage of a business opportunity. Fuck.

Lunch required interaction that went beyond the professional. I had no idea whether or not Harper would think lunch was no big deal, after all she’d agreed to pitch, or if she’d knee me in the balls and hand her notice in if I even suggested it.

I should have thought this whole call through more carefully in advance, maybe had Harper in the room when I spoke to Margaret. It wasn’t like me. I couldn’t tell if Harper had thrown me off my game or if it was the thought of landing JD Stanley as a client.

Maybe Margaret would come back and still say that Charles Jayne’s schedule was full. I reached inside my collar and ran my finger around the starched material. I shouldn’t have acted so rashly.

“Mr. King, I can make some time for you on Wednesday. Mr. Jayne will see you and Harper at twelve thirty at La Grenouille.”

Shit. That was the answer I wanted and the one that made me feel uncomfortable.

I hoped I’d done the right thing.

After thanking Margaret, I hung up the phone.

Maybe I didn’t have to tell Harper. Maybe I could just turn up to lunch on my own and say Harper had been caught up in the office or was sick.

But then Charles Jayne hadn’t founded a leading investment bank without the ability to smell bullshit a mile away. No. I’d have to confess to Harper what I’d done, and if she didn’t want to come to lunch, I’d have to cancel.

Jesus, why was this so fucking complicated? I’d done what I needed in order to win. If Harper and I hadn’t banged, would I be second guessing myself?

“Did you get it?” Donna asked as she burst through the door.

I nodded and leaned back in my chair. “Wednesday,” I said.

“Well, why don’t you look happier about it? Things are coming together just as you’d planned.”

I scrubbed my face with my hands. “Yeah, maybe.”