Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
It is not a good feeling. Neither is knowing I’d probably do it again, despite the fallout.
“First thing Aiden said when he got in was to send you to the conference room,” Nicky continues. “The one in the back.”
“Great. Okay. Thanks.”
I let out a breath as I smooth my pencil skirt over my thighs. Wearing my favorite suit seemed like a good idea this morning, but now I wish I’d gone with something more subdued. It’s a deep pink color, fitted within an inch of its life through my hips and torso. In Meghan Markle style, I’ve paired it with a silk blouse a shade lighter than the suit and my grandmother’s diamond stud earrings.
Will Aiden see a co-worker dressed to impress for her review? Or will he see an ex-whatever-I-am, desperate to regain his attention?
Too late to change now. Rolling back my shoulders, I grab my notebook and my favorite green pen and march to the conference room, grinning my friendly grin at people like my career—and my plans for the future—aren’t at stake today.
I catch a glimpse of Aiden through the conference room’s glass enclosure. For a second I can’t breathe. He just turned forty, but he’s somehow even more dangerously handsome than he was at thirty-nine. He’s dressed in a navy suit, no doubt custom-made at that tailor we visited together on Savile Row in London, the color making his steely blue eyes pop. Add in the neatly combed auburn hair and the jawline you could cut yourself on—
Yeah. Definitely dangerous.
He sees me and smiles. My knees wobble. I push through the conference room door, my voice embarrassingly breathless when I say, “You wanted to see me, Aiden?”
“Nora! Good morning,” he clips in his face-meltingly sexy British accent. He’s seated at the head of the table, and gestures to the chair to his left. “Please do take a seat. We have some exciting news to discuss.”
That’s when I see the man sitting to Aiden’s right. I do a double take, silently cursing the universe for making my boss’s hotness blot out everything else in whatever room he’s in.
I don’t recognize the guy. He’s younger than Aiden, closer to my age I’d guess—mid-thirties. Like me, he’s dressed to impress in a sharply cut suit that molds to his broad shoulders like a second skin. I don’t miss the monogram on the shirt sleeve that peeks out from his cuff—TPM—or the Rolex Submariner glinting on his wrist.
I stare at him, the hairs on the back of my neck prickling to life. I know his kind. The slicked-back Gordon Gekko hair; the smug, slightly bored expression; the way he’s sprawled out in his chair, legs spread, shoulders relaxed, like space exists just so he can take it up.
A card-carrying member of the old boys’ club. The one that dominates this business and makes the culture here so toxic at times. But I know better than to judge a book by its cover, so I manage to paste a friendly expression on my face as the guy stares right back.
His eyes are a piercing, frigid shade of green, the color of the ocean on a bitterly cold winter day. They flick down to my shoes, lingering there a beat too long. His full mouth turns down at the corners before he drags his gaze back up to my face.
My nipples pebble to hardened points, like he just devoured me with his hands rather than his eyes. Screw being friendly. I’m hit by the urge to throw my notebook at his head. Who the fuck does this guy think he is?
“And what news would that be?” I ask.
Aiden gestures to the chair at his left again. “Sit down and we’ll discuss it.”
I do as he tells me, heart hammering as I set down my notebook and pen. “I’m all ears.”
“I’m an absolute prat to bombard you like this, I know,” Aiden replies, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. I notice he’s wearing the cufflinks from that golf course we visited together, Old Head in Ireland. “But because of some non-compete nonsense, I’ve had to keep our most recent hire a secret until today. I’m very pleased to introduce you to Theo Morgan, Atlas & Teton’s new industrials trader. Theo, meet Nora Frasier, one of our top producers on the desk. Nora, we’re obviously thrilled to have landed a well-known market maker like Theo, and I hope you and the rest of the team will show him a warm welcome.”
My pulse jolts, dread settling like a brick in my stomach. Theo Morgan. I’d have to be dead to not know the name. He may be my age, but he’s already become something of a legend in finance. He graduated as valedictorian from Duke. Skipped business school after landing a coveted offer from Felix Brothers, the gold standard of New York investment banks. Rose through the ranks at lightning speed to become one of Wall Street’s most profitable, and most highly paid, traders.