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Olivia smiled, her deep brown eyes sparkling with affection. “Olivia Gaines,” she said, sticking out her hand.
“Piper Stafford,” I responded, shaking it firmly.
“Evie tells me you’re quite the lawyer,” she continued, drawing the two of us off the dance floor and to a table where we could get off of our aching feet.
I gave Evie the side-eye. “Evie and I went to law school together, but I’m not sure she’s ever worked with me.”
“Nonsense,” Evie cried. “You were valedictorian!” True.
Olivia smiled at us. “My firm would like to open a satellite office in DC. Private practice, primarily real estate, not quite white shoe, very interesting clients.”
“What does that mean?”
Evie grinned. “It means she works with the mob, up there in Yorkfield.”
My memory flashed to Benedict’s scars, my fingers running over them as water poured over us in the hotel shower. “The mob, huh?”
“Don’t make any decisions now, but if you’re ever interested in a career more interesting than corporate taxes, give me a call.” She handed me her card, kissed Evie on the forehead, and then disappeared back into the crowd.
Evie and I stared at each other. “Midnight’s in three minutes,” she whispered. I steeled myself, resisting the urge to pull out my phone and call my men, eager for their voices, their affection, wanting to wish them the happiest of New Years. Instead, I scooted closer to Evie and wrapped my arm around her bare shoulder.
“Hey, love, it’s going to be okay. I’m here. And we are celebrating a brand new year. A year of independence!” I did my best to reassure her, hoping that by saying the words to her, I could manifest joy in my own heart.
She wouldn’t look at me, wise woman that she was. My eyes grew hot and I blinked back the tears threatening to spill over.
So stupid of me to mourn something I never had. Those men were never going to be anything more than an extended one-night stand, and it was unfair of my heart to wish for more.
“Happy New Year!” The ballroom exploded into joyous celebration. Evie and I sat together staring straight ahead, our fingers locked together, squeezing so hard they paled, refusing to look at each other, each wrapped in her own misery.
Chapter Seventeen
Piper
AFTER THE SIXTH MEETING that day that could have been an email, I shoved my chair away from my desk and stood stretching my arms above my head and sighing as I worked the kinks out of my shoulders. The glow from the sunset spilled into my office like gold, multi-colored hues warming the bland tones of my corporate furnishings.
Hours of work remained before me, but I couldn’t bring myself to log back in and tackle the next tax abatement case. It wasn’t even my own work. One of my colleagues had quit, and when I came back from California, I’d found myself saddled with his workload in addition to my own—my “reward” for being the only one in the firm to take an entire week off during the holidays.
I stared out my window, hating the hours I had ahead of me, wishing I’d come back to DC and made real changes in my life, instead of diving right back into my old workaholic habits.
Turning back to my computer, I clicked on the last contract of the day, scanning through it. At a minimum, I could prepare my notes for the following day. Sighing, I began to read through the file.
Wait, what? I scrolled back up and read more carefully. This didn’t make any sense. I sketched out the numbers on a post-it. This didn’t make sense. Using this property as a tax shelter was certainly possible, but selling it for pennies on the dollar? Why were we selling it at all? Something was wrong.
I pulled all of the related documentation from the file. Was the contract a mistake, or was the error elsewhere?
Night fell, and I continued to read through the documentation, trying to make the numbers add up. The costs of contracting to renovate the building were enormous, far higher than they should’ve been, and the lease amounts were criminally low. The building was located in a prime downtown neighborhood. Why on earth would leases be so low?
I emailed the files to myself and then headed out to catch the metro home.
First thing the next morning, I knocked on my boss’s door. She waved me in, indicating for me to sit while she finished her phone call.
I explained that the numbers didn’t add up.
“Nonsense, Piper,” Prisha said to me. “I’m sure there’s a mistake in there somewhere.”
I nodded, relief coursing through me. “Is there additional documentation I should take a look at?”
Prisha cocked her head at me, her long and lustrous black hair falling over her shoulders. “No, I don’t think so. You’ve certainly worked hard enough on Scott’s cases. Why don’t you drop off the files with Lionel today, and then start work on the hotel takeover, now that we’re in a new calendar year?”
