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“Monster jerk,” I provide.
“I was going to say asshole,” Jack says, “because I’ve learned not to use gendered words like ‘bitch’ that I wouldn’t use if I were talking about a man. But yeah, monster jerk works. Scum is also good.” He curses beneath his breath. “I can’t believe she put our company at risk this way. We were good to her. Not to mention, Will. He was one of our first hires, someone we thought we could count on to put S and H first.”
“They screwed up,” I say, feeling terrible for him. For me, this is a win, but for him it’s proof that his trust was both misplaced and abused. “But you didn’t. They were sneaky, both of them. I almost missed it myself.”
“But you didn’t,” he says. “Because you’re tenacious, ferocious, and have killer instincts.”
“And I had a little help in the electronic snooping department.”
Jack lifts a brow. “More friends in high places?”
“Something like that. I just hope everything we’ve got is enough.”
“I’m sure the lawyers and the feds will take it from here.” Jack blows out a breath, shaking his head in disbelief. “Wow. I still feel like a fucking idiot.”
“You’re not.” I lean in to kiss his cheek. “You’re drop-dead sexy. And smart. And brave. And a knockout as a manora woman, which is pretty impressive.”
His lips curve. “Flattery is appreciated, but I’m still mad as hell.”
I nod, watching him carefully. “But you’re not mad at me, right? That I kept digging after you wanted me to stop?”
“No, I’m not. Like I said, you’ve got killer instincts, El. And from now on I’m going to do my best to trust them.”
I link my wrists behind his neck with a grin. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” His smile goes naughty around the edges. “How about we forget the drink and head up to your place? I want to see if you’re as good at getting bras off as I am.”
I giggle. “I’ve had over a decade of practice. I’m an expert.”
“Ah, but not at getting them off ofotherpeople.” He takes my hand, drawing me across the room. “And not while I’m doing my best to get you out ofyourbra first.”
“Are we betting again? High-stakes orgasms?”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Sounds like a win-win,” I murmur.
“It’s all winning, baby,” he promises as we swing outside into the warm summer afternoon, “from here on out.”
Later—as I’m laughing so hard tears stream down my face as I help Jack wrestle out of a pair of control-top pantyhose, which turn out to be far more challenging than the bra—I make a mental note to start journaling again, the way I did when I was a kid.
I don’t want to forget a moment of my life with this magical man. I want to wrap every memory up with a bow and tuck it away for safekeeping.
But as the months pass,Jack and I growing closer than I’ve ever been to another person, I find I’m too busy living—and loving—to write everything down. I’m also too busy studying for my Series 7 and 63 exams. Turns out, I actually enjoy working in finance, especially for a company that trulyisn’tyour mother’s Wall Street—not since Jack and Ryan began charting a new course.
Every day brings a new, exciting challenge, stretching my mind in creative directions that I never could’ve predicted. Hannah, Lulu, and the rest of my karaoke ladies welcome me back with open arms, and even Rictor and I bury the hatchet. He’s the first to congratulate me when I kick his ass in fantasy baseball, and even asks my advice on emerging tech before expanding his portfolio to include stocks in a smart-home startup company.
I love my new job, but I haven’t given up writing.
I’m working on a memoir I sold to a major publishing house not long after my article went viral, and my new agent is pitching a how-to guide for women in the workplace. I’m also writing a romance novel. Turns out I have a lot to say about love. About how amazing and inspiring and life-changing it is.
And how my boyfriend’s penis is the best penis on the entire planet.
“You can’t put that in your novel,” Jack says, kissing my cheek on his way into the kitchen to grab Sunday morning coffee.
“About your penis?” I cock my head, studying the line. “Why? It’s factual.”
“But this is for your novel, not the memoir, correct?”
