“Like, four of them.”
“Not including me?”
“Three.”
She laughs and turns to snag two Champagne flutes off a passing tray. “Here. Cheers, and congratulations!” She clinks her glass to mine. “And I’m really proud of you, you know.”
I grin, allowing myself to bask in the praise. My dad might have a ton of money and political influence. But I earned the accolades. I worked my ass off to graduate college early, get into law school, and then graduate that early too, with honors.
“Thanks,” I smile.
“And how many of these people you don’t know have come up to gush congratulations?”
“Oh, all of them. So long as my dad was looking.”
Zoey smirks. “So, he’s really doing it, huh?”
“Yep,” I mutter dryly.
Like I said, none of this is really for me. I’m the centerpiece, I guess. I’m the excuse for bringing all of these people here to my father’s townhouse. But the real goal here is money. Unofficially, this is Thomas Murray’s first fundraising gala for his bid to run for Mayor of Chicago. And having me here plays so well into that it might as well be movie scripted.
There’s not a single thing my father won’t or hasn’t used for his own agenda. After my mom died, Thomas Murray became the poster-boy for the hard-working single father. He played himself up like this Kennedy figure who was also raising his daughter all by his lonesome, tirelessly.
It was all bullshit, of course. My father didn’t raise me, an army of nannies, private tutors, and “finishing class” instructors to make sure I was ladylike enough for high society did. Not to mention the private chefs, maids, and personal shoppers because God forbid I go out to buy my own clothes.
“Hey, you look fucking hot by the way.”
I grin, blushing. “Thanks.”
“Now finish that,” she nods at my flute.
“I just got it!”
“And I’m going to go get us more, so…” she makes a “speed it up” motion with her hand. I laugh as I knock back the champagne and hand her the glass. I choke slightly, and she grins.
“Just gotta open the throat, Fi.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“Relax the jaw, use lots of tongue. Eye contact is always—”
“Oh my God…”
She laughs as my face burns hotly. “Fancy law school degree at twenty-two, lots of job prospects, and a dad who’s going to be mayor. The only thing we need to do now is finally get you laid.”
I groan, feeling my face burn. “I’m fine, thanks.”
She giggles. “No, you’re not. Trust me. Okay I’ll be back with more booze.”
I shake my head and watch my friend disappear into the crowd.
“You look thirsty.”
I turn at the man’s voice. He’s handsome, and smug looking, and he reeks of old money. His blond hair is perfectly swept back and to the side, his square chin right off of a reality TV show poster.
“Chet,” he smiles. He passes me a champagne flute.
“Oh, thanks, but my friend—”
He ignores me and presses the glass into my hand. “And congratulations on your graduation.”
I smile. “Um, thank you.”
“So, has anyone scooped you up yet?”
“Hmm?”
He grins. “Any firms.”
“Oh, no. Not yet. I haven’t actually taken my bar exam—”
“Well, they will.”
I smile back at him. “Well, thank you, I appreciate—”
“I mean with your dad being Mayor and all.”
Being cut off is such a pet peeve. But I force a smile. “Well, we’ll see.”
“It won’t hurt, right?”
“I mean—”
“And you’re smart, graduated the right school,” he winks. “Beautiful…”
I blush, even though I know it’s a lame line.
“Thanks.”
“You know, my firm is actually looking. Cooper and Cooperman? Yeah I’m a senior partner there.”
Of course he is. The man has “smug, rich, privileged douchebag” written all over him.
“Oh, wow, really?” I ask with zero actual interest. This is exactly the kind of man my father ultimately wants me to be with. It wouldn’t even surprise me if he’s the one that sent him over to talk with me.
“Yep,” Chet grins smugly. “I could probably pull some strings. Talk to the partners, get you in there for an interview.”
My jaw drops in shock. “Oh my God, are you serious?!”
He grins. “Of course! What are you doing tomorrow night?”
My heart races. “Oh my God, nothing! Nothing at all! I could definitely come in and talk—”
“I was thinking more going out.”
“Oh! Okay, yeah, I could also—”
“You know with your dad taking office, you and me could be quite the power couple.”
The record scratches in my head. Yep, there it is. And naïve me walked right into it. There’s no pulling strings with the partners. He just wants to take me out. Even as I’m thinking it, I see Chet glance back around the room. Sure enough, there’s my dad, watching.
“My dad put you up to this, didn’t he?”
“Oh, no! No way!” Chet quickly backtracks. “I just wanted to introduce myself.”
“Is your firm really hiring?”
“Yes? I mean, for you—”
I groan. “Well, it was really nice to meet you, but—”
“Don’t you have a sewer to crawl back into, Chet?”
Zoey suddenly shoves her way between us, glaring at him.
“Zoey Stone,” he growls, frowning.
“She’s not interested. Fly away, scumbag.”
“Why don’t you let her speak for—”
“Trust me, she’s not interested. You’re not her type, Chet.”
He glares at her, and then turns to me. “Why don’t we let Fiona tell us what her type is?”
“Because I already know it’s not the type who like his girls young, rich, and unconscious, Chet,” she hisses.
He bristles, snarling at her. “Listen to me, you little—”
“Fuck off, Chet. Now.”
“Cunt,” he mutters. He glares at Zoey before he turns and slinks away.
“Ugh, fuck that guy,” she groans.
“My dad sent him over.”
“Well, your dad has really terrible taste in men for you.”
I sigh. “He checked all the boxes—rich, successful, and apparently a…” I frown into my friend’s face. “Wait, did you and—”
“Oh my God, no. Not me,” she makes a face. “Crystal Shoenburg used to date his brother though. Lots of family donations to sweep his predatory bullshit under the rug.”
I blanche. “Wait, that was Chet Brubaker?”
“Yep.”
I groan. “As in…”
“Son of Melvin Brubaker, CEO of Adonis Capital. That’s the one.”
I
