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“What do you mean no?” I laughed.
“Lara. Dane is the last person you want to owe a favor to. I promise you. And he isn’t someone I’d feel good about you being alone with. I know Jackson wouldn’t either and we’d both be right. He’s a manipulative prick who’d throw his own mother under the bus to get what he wanted.”
“Exactly. I want information on Jackson and Dane will happily give it to me if I drink and bat my eyelashes with him for long enough.” I continued before Jake could interrupt me. “I know what you’re going to say. He’s going to want more. I know that. But I’ll just have Sloane call me at a specific time with some ‘emergency’ and I’ll go. She and I always do this for each other.”
Jake ran a hand across his jaw as he stared out the window and down at the green fields. “Are you going to be in public?”
“Preferably at his office, where there’ll be tons of people, I’m sure.”
Jake pressed his lips into a firm line. I could tell he still wasn’t convinced. “You’ll still be in some room alone with him. And you know that piece of shit has no boundaries. Especially since he starts drinking by pretty much noon every day.”
“Trust me, I know about his drinking, and I’m going to use it to my advantage,” I said, studying the worry that tensed Jake’s square jaw and broad shoulders. I reached across to rub his distress away. Despite the fact that he tilted his head down to kiss my arms, I didn’t feel him relax.
“I don’t know, Lara. I don’t think it’s a good idea to go to Dane for anything,” he murmured gravely.
I looked him in the eye with a vague smile. “But I’m going to.”
Jake stared at me with disapproval creasing his brow. But then he leaned in and pressed a kiss on my lips. “I know,” he said, his voice hard but his touch soft. “I’d never dream of telling you what to do. I’d only make sure to be there every time in case you needed me. And I have a feeling that with Dane, you will. So whenever you decide to do this, Lara, tell me,” he said before kissing me again. “Please.”
“Okay,” I lied as I kissed him back. “I will.”
Chapter Eight
Lara
The next morning, without telling a soul, I went to Dane’s office. My nerves were enough of a wreck without knowing that someone was planted somewhere, anxiously waiting for my return. So I resolved to go on my mission alone, without anyone finding out.
Fortunately, it went with my act to show up incognito at McNulty Partners on Fifty-Fifth Street, which is exactly what I did. With my hair coiled into a bun behind my left ear, I covered my head with a wide-brimmed hat and my eyes with some shades – the biggest Chanel pair I could find in my drawer. I then grabbed two items in my closet that I’d never worn – a short trench coat to cover my beige tank dress and a pair of camel ankle boots. The slender young woman at the front desk barely flinched when I came in like a true damsel in distress, shades still on as I breathily asked for “Mr. McNulty.” “It’s urgent,” I added.
She barely looked up. “Name?”
Crap. How did I not think about what name to give? “Michelle,” I blurted.
“And last name?”
Already failing. “Uh…”
“Miss, if you don’t have an appointment, it may be a better idea to reach Mr. McNulty through his personal number, or however it is you normally reach him,” the woman suggested with a hint of judgment. “Either that or just… move on,” she said, lowering her voice. I blinked, realizing the sheer volume of disgruntled ex-flings that McNulty Partners probably saw on a monthly basis. But before I could try to explain that I wasn’t one of them, I heard that permanently satisfied drawl that could only belong to Dane McNulty looking at a woman.
“Finally. I knew you’d have to get sick of Sawyer eventually.”
Looking over, I saw Dane standing at the end of the frosted glass counter, casually fixing the gleaming cufflinks on his fitted grey suit. It took me a second to realize that he was referencing the supposed affair I was having with Sawyer. I rolled my eyes underneath my shades and though it was impossible for Dane to see, he knitted his brows together in mock despair.
“Oh shit, you’re still mad at me. Alright. Why don’t we talk in my office?”
Wordlessly, I followed him past the front desk area, feeling all eyes on me as Dane led me all the way to the back corner, one hand guiding me by my stiff lower back. Once we got into his office, he shut the door behind us, briefly but deliberately sandwiching me between his body and the wall. My heart pounded violently as I watched him shed his jacket and drape it over the couch before leaning against the front of his desk and looking at me. There was a silence.
“Take off those ridiculous glasses,” he finally said.
Damn it. I had planned to have tears ready for him by the time I had to remove them. I was supposed to have just found out that Jackson had hired that terrible intruder to break into our home and throw me around. Reliving that night, I mustered up as much emotion as I possibly could before taking off my shades.
“Now I can see those lovely eyes,” Dane smirked. “Christ, you’re even prettier when you’re crying. No wonder Jackson loves to break your heart.”
I pretended to flinch at the remark. “I’m here to talk about him,” I said, my voice wavering.
Dane brushed at non-existent lint on his crisp shirt. “I presumed. And what exactly is it that we’re talking about this afternoon? Jackson’s pulled far too much shit for me to possibly guess which incident you’re crying about today.”
