Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107262 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107262 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
“It’s going to be all right,” Ami says, trying to sound hopeful, but we both know the financial district eats hard cores for breakfast and flosses their teeth with the bones of the dead.
“So,” Maggie asks, “he didn’t offer you the job, or do you just think that the interview didn’t go well?”
“No. I don't have the job, but…” Something confusing stirs inside of me as I remember his offer.
Ami lifts an eyebrow. “But?”
“He said he saw what happened between me and Evan, and apparently, those two have history. He asked for details, and I was honest with him. Mr. Sharpe called Evan a fucking idiot.” A smile steals across my face, and then an unexpected chuckle escapes at the memory. Maggie and Ami snort out laughs of surprise as well. “I wasn’t in the mood to object, obviously. But he said that I wouldn’t be a good fit in his firm. He didn’t give a reason, but I got the feeling that it was because of Evan, so I guess I can thank that asshole for that, too.”
“I officially hate that guy,” Ami declares. She’s likely planning a smear effort on-par with a political attack campaign, something she’s entirely capable of spearheading.
Maggie holds up her hand in solidarity. “Me too.” She’d design, print, and distribute the Evan Sucks pins at every club in a five-block radius if I asked her to.
“Well… maybe there’s something else,” I reply. “Even though he didn’t hire me, he said he might have an opportunity for me.” As wary about the sound of that as I was, my friends raise their brows skeptically.
"I don’t know if I like the sound of that,” Maggie warns.
“This Friday is the Faulkner fundraising event, and he offered to take me as his plus-one.”
“He asked you on a date?” Ami asks, horrified. “Are you serious?”
She’s offended on my behalf, and while I’m grateful she has my back, and despite my thoughts initially being along the same line, I’m not sure I have another option right now.
“It’s not a date,” I protest a little too vehemently. “He basically said he’ll introduce me to a colleague of his, someone who might have a position for me. It’s networking. And a little bit of poking the bear on Dylan’s behalf, I think? He said something about knocking Evan off his pedestal.” I shrug, not exactly sure what he meant but pretty on-board with some pedestal crashing myself.
“Uh-huh,” Maggie says, smirking. “And the fact that Dylan Sharpe is sexy as hell doesn’t have anything to do with it?”
As part of my interview preparation, I learned everything I could about Dylan Sharpe and his firm. That may or may not have included showing Maggie some pictures I found of him online. To say he’s attractive is like saying the sun’s a little warm. More important to me, though, is his mind, and the man is whip-smart and a prime example of the trajectory I’d like to follow myself, working up from the ground floor to create an empire. An evening picking his brain and watching him work is a wish come true.
“Not really,” I reply, my voice surprisingly steady. “Though the idea of showing up to Evan’s fundraiser with a man who’s hotter and maybe even richer sounds… intriguing.”
“When you put it that way…” Ami says with a smirk. “Break out the petty confetti! I’m Team Raven!”
Maggie seems less sure but agrees reluctantly. “Team Raven, all the way.” But after taking a sip of her wine, she warns, “Be careful, though, okay? Play it smart and do what’s best for you, and not anyone else. I get the whole ‘get over one guy by getting under another’ vibe, but these aren’t guys from Tinder that you’re rebound fucking. You’re playing with the big dogs, and either of them, or both of them, could tank your career before it even starts.”
She’s right, obviously. And while I’m not as experienced in chess-level maneuvers as Evan or Mr. Sharpe—no, Dylan—are, I’m not completely without skills. I can attend the fundraiser, press palms to make the connections I need, show Evan that he didn’t break me, and leave with my head held high.
“Or,” Ami drawls out dramatically, “you leave Evan in your dust, make Dylan Sharpe fall in love with you, and get that big corner office in the sky.”
I shake my head. “That’s not happening. I haven’t even fully committed to going to the fundraiser yet. I told Dylan I’d let him know by tomorrow so I didn’t sound desperate.”
“You’re going,” Maggie declares, seemingly reversing her previous doubts. “What other choice do you have?”
None. I have no other options, no more interviews scheduled, and only a couple of resumes I haven’t heard back on yet. I wouldn’t let that stop me, but a little shortcut to a possible opening at another firm is a gift I can’t refuse. Even if it comes with complications, like going to my ex’s family fundraiser on the arm of the man whose company I desperately wanted to work for.