“Because you cheated on me.” I still couldn’t believe he wasn’t over this. That he refused to own up to the true reason behind our break-up from years ago. “You. Cheated. On. Me.”

“I cheated one time, Penelope. One time.”

I gritted my teeth and grabbed a stress ball from my drawer. There was no point in going down this road of conversation with him right now. It never ended well for either of us.

“Now, perhaps you don’t remember the promises we made to each other at one point in time,” he said. “But, I do. We were supposed to be Drew & Lauren Associates and we were going to run this city together.”

“Those promises were made null and void the moment you let your college intern wrap her mouth around your cock.” I shook my head at the memory. “And for the record, you were caught once. You slept with her far more than one time.”

“This is a classic case of ‘he said, she said.’ As a fellow publicist, you know the true details are clearly fuzzy after all this time.” He let out a light laugh and I almost screamed. “Nonetheless, I’m not doing this to get back at you. I’m doing this so you can finally put your pride to the side and join me. And maybe, just maybe, when you come to your senses, perhaps you can forgive me and we can pick up right where we left off. We can be Drew and Lauren Associates forever. What do you say?”

I hung up.

There was no way in hell I’d go back to him, let alone join his firm. I opened my inbox, ready to get to the bottom of the random, three-million-dollar deposit, and noticed there were two new emails from my best friend, Sean.

Subject: Please Get Rid of Your Goddamn Roommate...

I’ve asked this before, but I’ll ask it again: Why can’t you just put Sarah out?

Surely you can find someone else in this city who can afford to split your overpriced rent. Someone who doesn’t insist on imposing her ridiculous germaphobe issues on me each time I come over, and someone who isn’t currently accusing me of leaving “micro crumbs” on your kitchen counter.

Thanks in advance.

Sean

Subject: Seventy Sad Months and Counting...

This is your monthly reminder that you haven’t slept with anyone since Drew, and that’s why you’re stressed out and obsessed with your work all the time.

If you weren’t like a sister to me, I’d sleep with you myself, but for the umpteenth time: You need to get laid. BADLY.

Please do it this month so I won’t have to email you about this next month. (It’s getting really sad.) I can suggest some clubs and pay my sister to help you dress if you like...

Sean

PS—I’m not kidding about your roommate. GET. RID. OF. HER. NOW.

I laughed and minimized his email, opening the firm’s bank ledger in a new tab instead. The three million dollars was confirmed, and the bank was requesting an immediate meeting to file tax paperwork.

The name on the deposit was simply, “R.D. LLC” and a myriad of companies with those initials popped up on my screen when I hit search. There was no actual “RD LLC” by itself and no business in this city was currently operating under that name.

I called Tina’s desk.

“Yes, Miss Lauren?” she answered on the first ring

“Tina, has this mystery client ever sent us an email that we can possibly track?”

“No, he’s only called and the number he calls from goes straight to a hotel,” she said. “I’ve checked. He usually calls us at noon every day, though.”

I glanced at the clock. It was only ten.

“What exactly did he say the last time he called?”

“Um, well, after I told him about our fake fee, he said he’d call for a meeting with the director Monday. Are we really going to charge him two hundred and fifty thousand dollars a month?”

“Depends on who he really is and all he might require from us,” I said. “If he’s that high profile, we might have to hire more staff and get more resources to get things done, you know? Let me know when he calls again.”

“Will do.”

I hung up and tried to think of who the hell in this city could afford to drop three million without much thought. Anyone who would bother going to a small firm instead of one of the big three: Embassy, Welch, or Avenue.

Or hell, even Drew’s firm...

As I was scrolling through another page of RD LLC listings, a new email from Drew appeared on my screen.

Subject: Maybe you’re right...

I’m going to poach every client of yours until you come to your damn senses, Penelope. You know you can’t run a firm on your own for too much longer, especially without me.

I’ll be here whenever you’re no longer solvent, whenever you realize that your clients will always go with me over you. (But they can get both of us whenever you’re ready.)

Forgive me and join me before I change my mind, sweetheart,

Drew.

PS—Reply to me. You know you want to :-)

Ugh!

I deleted his email and pulled up Sean’s last message for a reply instead.

Subject: Re: Seventy Sad Months and Counting...

I’ll end my streak this weekend. You and your sister will really help me?

—Penelope

Subject: Re: Re: Seventy Sad Months and Counting...

Absolutely 

THE CLIENT

RYAN

I stared outside the window of a town car Sunday night, hoping tonight would end better than the night before. I could still hear my brother’s laughter ringing in my ears and I needed more than a few drinks to silence it.

Last night, when I was mid-Jameson and contemplating which woman at the bar I was going to approach, he’d sent me a panicked text message: PLEASE HELP ME, RYAN! GET TO MY CONDO NOW! EMERGENCY! PLEASE!

I wasted no time rushing to get to his place—even calling security when I was en-route, but the second I arrived, I realized what was really happening.

It turned out the “emergency” was me, and Leo was just ensuring that I didn’t spent my evening “in a club getting in trouble.” Instead, he preferred that I hang out with him and his wife while they watched awful movies on Netflix and burned endless bags of popcorn.

I’m not falling for that shit tonight...

“You said Club H2O correct, sir?” My driver interrupted my thoughts.

“Yes, Miller.”

“Well, we’re here.” He pulled the car to the curb. “What time would you like me to return?”

“I’ll let you know,” I said, opening the door. “Wait, one thing.” I caught his eyes through the rearview mirror. “I know it’s been several months since I partied like used to, but did you honestly ever think I was out of control?”

He laughed. “I think I know better than to give you a true answer to that.”

You just did... “Thank you, Miller.” I stepped out of the car and headed to the club’s entrance, skipping everyone in line.

“We weren’t expecting you tonight, Mr. Dalton.” The security guard pulled back the velvet rope. “Would you like to speak to the manager?”

“Not at all. I won’t be here too long.” I walked inside and headed to the bar, finding myself face to face with the manager anyway.

“Mr. Dalton?” She blushed as she extended her hand. “I would’ve had your VIP booth ready for you if I knew you were coming. We don’t usually offer those on Sunday nights, but I can make an exception if you like. I can have someone clear it out right away.”

I started to tell her not to worry about it, that I was only going to drink two drinks at the bar and go home, but I glanced at my usual spot and saw a sexy ass woman in a bright blue dress. A woman who was making every man around her stop and stare.

She was hands down, the most stunning woman I’d ever seen, and I was shocked I’d never met her before. Looking out at the dance floor with her emerald green eyes, her auburn colored hair was pulled low in a ponytail, and she was biting her bottom lip as she nodded to the music.

When the DJ changed the song, she stood up and motioned for a waitress.

The longer she stood there waving her hand, the longer I stared at the way her tight dress perfectly grabbed her hips. The way her ruby red lips complemented her beautiful eyes.