The weather report ended. A commercial for State Farm Insurance aired. I glanced around at the familiar scene. Suits at almost every table. Business in action.
How did your meetings go? Is the case behind you?
Not behind me, but I gave them everything. Answered all their questions.
What kinds of questions were they asking?
Interestingly, not as much about my business as you would think. Much more about the parties in Asia that I’d been to, who had been there. Places Cyr owns that I’d been to.
They had drilled me about which celebrities attended. Jewelry he’d given as gifts. Things I suspected they could dig up with a Google search or a perusal through TMZ. They were on a hunt all right, but after sitting through hours of questioning, it became clear the Justice Department saw me as an information source. Now, the SEC…
How do you feel about it?
Better.
And the interview?
Now that I didn’t feel better about. I wasn’t about to try to explain to Poppy via text the odd vibes Caroline’s father had given. I wasn’t against leveraging connections, but I preferred to believe he wanted me for my skill set rather than for some bizarre seventeenth-century dream I’d be with his daughter.
“Mr. Chesterton?” A balding man in a suit extended his hand.
“Mr. Drake. Please, call me Gabe.”
“And call me Phil.” He slid out a barstool and joined me.
“How was dinner?”
“Superb.”
“Just a moment.” I picked up my phone to return her text.
In another interview now. Can I call you later?
God, I missed her. I wished when I finished this meeting, she’d be at home for me—a bizarre notion for a man like me.
The guy droned on with cordial conversation. Five minutes in, and I determined his mission was to determine if I’d fit within the company culture. He gave zero hard-hitting questions. He didn’t stoop to sports talk, but he delved into politics, preferred trade publications, and research sources.
Poppy’s response came through, and the entire room blacked out as I zeroed in on the screen.
I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Not sure my heart can take it. I do wish you all the best. Good luck!
Chapter 30
Gabe
The lights overlooking the city twinkled. At least, the lights in the distance twinkled. Closer up, in buildings across the street, solid sheets of light blinked on or off. A man in the apartment building across the way sat down on his sofa and leaned over his coffee table. He faced a blue light emanating from the wall. I could only see the shadow of his shape, but for some reason I was drawn to him sitting alone, forking what was most likely a microwave dinner into his mouth.
My buzzer rang, sharp and high-pitched. I checked the time. Just a little after seven. I wasn’t expecting anyone. After working out in the building gym, I’d spent the day in the apartment. I’d meant to unpack. Search for a new assistant. I accomplished nothing.
The buzzer continued. Buzz. Buzz.
Fuck.
I strode into the kitchen and pressed the intercom. “Yes.”
“Mr. Chesterton. Ms. Caroline Anderson is here to see you.”
I pressed my forehead against the wall. “Send her up.”
The dull ache behind my eyes intensified, and I squeezed the bridge of my nose, seeking relief. The heavy mechanical sound of the elevator door opening sounded, and I dropped my hand to my waist. Caroline stepped into the entryway. She wore bright red heels and a charcoal gray trench coat that fell above her knees. It was Saturday night, so it fit that she’d be dressed to go out. But stopping by unannounced wasn’t exactly a New York thing to do.
I stood, legs shoulder width apart, arms crossed, waiting for her to travel down the hall. She looked up at the ceiling and along the walls, then smiled widely when she finally stared straight ahead and noticed me.
“Gabe. You haven’t changed a thing.”
“What’re you doing here?”
“Can’t I stop by to check on a friend? One who just returned?”
I stood, arms crossed, and waited.
“Reed said you didn’t want to go out tonight. So, I stopped by to drag you out.”
“Not in the mood.”
“Come on now. I have reservations at three different restaurants. You can take your pick. Then there’s a new club—”
“Caroline, you should’ve called. I’m not in the mood.” I’d considered Reed’s invite, but I had no desire to sit through a lengthy meal and make small talk. I’d grown bored of the club scene years ago, and I really wasn’t in the mood to dance.
“Since when do you not go out?”
“I haven’t gone clubbing in years.”
“Well, you don’t have to go. At least come out for dinner. What are you going to do? Stay in?”
“That’s the plan.”
“What’s with the jogging pants?”
“They’re soft. Comfortable.”
She took off down the hall, toward my bedroom. Every click of heel against the marble floor echoed in the expansive room. My head throbbed.
I sat down on my sofa, kicked my socked feet up on the coffee table, and waited.
She returned with one of my ironed shirts on a hanger and a pair of black jeans.
“Change into these. I’m not taking no for an answer.”
“I’m not going. You shouldn’t have stopped by.”
“If you really want to stay in, I can do that too.” Her bottom lip protruded, and she scooted next to me on the sofa. She attempted her puppy dog eyes, a look that back in college worked for her, but now she’d either overused it or it didn’t work on a woman her age.
I rested my head on the back of the sofa and closed my eyes, wishing her gone. The slight touch of fingers trailing up my thigh snapped my patience. With one quick move, I grabbed her wrist.
“What are you doing?”
“If you want to stay in—”
“Caroline, what is going on? Your father seemed to think something was up with us, too. There’s nothing between us. As you are well aware.”
Her
