Chapter 8

Ainsley deliberately waited until she was nearly at Nick’s place to call Arthur. She called his personal number instead of the one at the office, knowing he would pick that one up himself.

“Ainsley? Is something wrong?” Art wasn’t dumb. Normal business would have gone through normal channels.

“Hi, Art. It’s nothing major. I just have to cancel for this weekend. I wanted to let you know as soon as I could.” Even Arthur’s wife called him Arthur, but mistresses had their privileges as long as they knew enough to insist on them.

Arthur lowered his voice. “I’ve gone through a lot of trouble to arrange this weekend, Ainsley. What reason could you possibly have for canceling?”

“The client invited me to a housewarming party that starts on Friday night. I don’t know how long it will run.” Black and Stringer had many, many clients, but Ainsley currently only worked with one of them. She doubted Nick’s party would last into the next day, but the senior partners had an impression of him based on the behavior of a father he’d never met. “I could maybe make it out Sunday if you like.”

“I’m not going to spend the weekend alone on Cape Cod waiting for you!” Arthur’s voice rose to a strained, conversational tone. “Why are you partying with the client?”

He said the word “partying” like it was a morally dubious sex act. Ainsley allowed herself a small smile. “You told me to make friends with him, Art. Should I tell him I can’t go because my boyfriend got his wife to leave town for the weekend?”

“Don’t be vulgar, Miss Davenport. I never told you to socialize with him.” Art frequently resorted to stuffiness when he had nothing useful to say.

“Should I tell him no?” Ainsley asked. “I was really looking forward to getting out of town together for a few days.”

Strictly speaking, Art was right. He hadn’t told Ainsley to socialize with Nick. He hadn’t needed to. They both knew that if he could do so legally, he would strip and collar her to be presented as a gift to the young billionaire in order to secure Black and Stringer’s stewardship of the Grayson-Stone trust, a role that earned the firm tens of millions of dollars a year in trading fees and billable hours. For all his Savile Row suits, Rolex watches, and million dollar homes, Arthur Black was a pimp at heart.

Only, he waited so long to answer, Ainsley started to wonder if she’d overplayed her hand. At some point, Art had crossed the line between telling her the ordinary lies rich, old men told their younger lovers and a real, unwholesome obsession with her. Maybe he really would tell her to blow Nick off and come to Cape Cod.

“No. If the client wants you there, you should be there,” Art sighed. “You’ll bill him for your time, of course?”

“Only if we talk business.” Ainsley crossed the street outside Nick’s building. “I have to go. I’m at the client site now. Please tell the team I won’t be in the office this morning. Nick has some contracts he wants me to go over with him and his team.”

Good old Art. He might be making noises about leaving his wife for Ainsley, but he’d never let her get between him and his first love - the roaring stream of money that was the firm’s lifeblood. Grayson-Stone was the artery that had made Art rich enough to replace his wife with a younger model every ten years or so. If Ainsley did marry him, it was the money he would eventually use to replace her.

Ainsley had no plans to marry Art or to whore herself out for the sake of Black and Stringer’s bottom line. She’d never planned to stay with the firm forever. Like Art, she’d chosen to join because she knew they had strong connections to the Stone family. The Stones weren’t the richest family in the world, but they probably spent the most money. In between their charities and their many, far-flung for-profit ventures, the Stones largely refused to rest on their laurels like other old money families. They seemed determined to own the whole world. In the process, they made a lot of their friends very rich.

If Ainsley became the fourth Mrs. Arthur Black or made senior partner at Black and Stringer, those would be consolation prizes taken because her own plans had failed utterly. Fortunately, working with Nick and getting friendly with him dovetailed perfectly with those plans while demonstrating to the firm that she was their unquestioningly loyal agent. She could bide her time and move on her own schedule.

When she stepped out of the elevator into the lounge, Nick broke off a conversation with a caterer to come over and greet her. “Miss Andretti, you’re looking very lawyerly today.”

Ainsley looked down at her smart, gray suit as if she didn’t know exactly what she was wearing. It was the suit she’d worn to interview at Black and Stringer four years ago, the best she could afford at the time. She wouldn’t wear it to work today, but it wasn’t a good idea to look too lawyerly around Nick. “I could have dropped by in something more casual, but you said you wanted your friends’ parents to treat this as a serious venture.”

“Of course.” Nick gave her a genuine, open smile. Anyone who’d ever met Nick probably knew he didn’t like lawyers, but he was always happy to remind you if you forgot. He also genuinely wanted to be a Good Guy. That might not last once people started to take advantage of him, but for now, he seemed ready to try to save every stray cat, wounded dove, and hobbled lingerie model who crossed his path. “Max just texted to say the bus was going into the Holland Tunnel.”

Ainsley nodded. “I should hold off on meeting with Miss King, then. I assume she’s still here.”

“She’s going to be staying here for a while. I’ve got her looking at my social media situation and the commute from Coney Island is rough with a sprained ankle.” Nick gave her a sideways glance. “I have room.”

Ainsley nodded. “And Miss Sato?”

“Kiki’s still here too and still under the weather.” Nick ran a hand through his hair. “And Pilar stayed really late last night talking about the Stone family. She crashed in one of the guest rooms, I think.”

Ainsley raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you don’t have the other one tucked away somewhere?”

“Casey?” Nick shook his head. “I haven’t seen Casey since Saturday afternoon. I think she’s planning to come to the housewarming, though.”

“Have you let your guests know we’re going to be meeting with the parents this morning so they can stay out of the way?” Ainsley asked.

Nick gave her a sharp look. “Why would I do that?”

Ainsley didn’t flinch. “Optics. You and I know these are just your unusually attractive new friends needing a place to crash for a few days and not the harem of broken lingerie models they appear to be. But, if they all sashay out here looking like they just rolled out of bed, these people are going to wonder what they’re letting their children sign on for. I know all of your friends are legally adults and, but if it came down to signing on to your little venture or staying on good terms with their...”

Nick raised a hand. “I’m not comfortable asking my guests to hide in their rooms.”

“Of course not,” said Ainsley reasonably. “But, you did ask me to be here and make sure everything runs smoothly with this meeting. I could just let them know you’re going to have a lot of company so they don’t accidentally wander out here ... underdressed.”

Nick sighed and considered her for a few, long seconds before answering. “Fine, but be quick. And no lawyer tricks.”

“No lawyer tricks. Got it.” Ainsley headed off to the apartment wing. On the way, she snagged a caterer to play waitress. If she were being completely honest, she doubted Nick’s guests could do anything that would keep his friends’ parents from gleefully sending their children off into whatever bacchanal they imagined was going on here. Civilization was built on parents heedlessly flinging their children into concentrations of wealth and power as a way to improve their own lots.

Kiki barely opened her eyes long enough to ask for tea and toast. Pilar, crashed in Emily’s living room, wanted coffee. Only Emily roused herself enough to climb out of bed, awkwardly working her way on crutches into the room where Pilar had slept. Once she’d ordered a proper breakfast, she asked, “You’re Nick’s lawyer. Right?”

“Ainsley Davenport. I’m one of Nick’s lawyers” Ainsley shook Emily’s hand. “I understand you’re going to be handling Nick’s social media accounts for him?”

Emily sat down in one of the room’s recliners and gestured to the facing chair. “Nick said you would handle all the details of that.”

Ainsley hadn’t even known Nick hired Emily until a few minutes earlier, but she nodded. “I will - or I’ll eventually hand it off to his new HR director, but I haven’t had a chance to discuss it with him yet.” She patted her soft-sided leather case. “I do have an offer ready for you regarding your injury, though.”

“My injury? Nick didn’t have anything to do with that.” Emily frowned.

“The offer is in return for your agreement not to sue my client or his cousin, Jasmine Abdul-Stone,” said Ainsley. “There are some other clauses in the contract, but they’re fairly standard boilerplate. Your lawyer can help you go over them.”

“Can I ask what he’s offering?” Emily asked.

“Forty-two thousand dollars.” Ainsley drew the folder out of her case and offered it to Emily, who took it.

Emily didn’t open the folder, “If you have a pen, I’ll sign it now. It’s not like I was going to sue either of them anyway.”

Wordlessly, Ainsley offered her a pen. With another client, Emily would have just talked herself out of some or all of the money she was being offered by admitting Nick’s non-liability. Even a bad lawyer would have warned her to keep her mouth shut.

Emily signed and handed back the folder and pen. “I thought the job and the apartment were to keep me from suing.”

Ainsley put the folder away. “Unless Nick said so and you agreed to it, they weren’t.”

The waitress returned with breakfast. Emily gestured at the chair across from her again. “Will you stay for a bit? There are a couple of questions I wanted to ask you.”

Ainsley gave her best professional smile “I’d love to, but Nick wants me with him to add some gravitas when the parents arrive.”

Emily took a glass of orange juice from the breakfast provided and used it to take a small, white pill. “Do you think they’ll take you seriously? You’re very pretty.”

Coming from Emily King, it sounded more like genuine curiosity instead of a snide way to question Ainsley’s confidence. Emily undoubtedly understood what it was like to not be taken seriously as an attractive woman. “I’ve won that fight with a lot worse than a room full of suburban parents. Thank you for your concern, though.”

Nick’s breakfast guests had just made their way up the elevator and stairs and made an impromptu receiving line to shake Nick’s hand. He broke away to meet her halfway across the room and said quietly. “They’re already asking me for things.”

“Emily asked me about her job managing your social media,” said Ainsley. “And she wanted to sign her settlement and get it out of the way.”

“How did she know about that?” Nick asked.

“She was telling me that she didn’t want to sue you or Jasmine. I was concerned she might talk herself into not taking any money at all,” Ainsley answered.

Nick turned to draw her back to the group. “I’m glad you talked her into it. Remind me what your actual last name is again, by the way. I’ve gotten too used to calling you ‘Miss Andretti.’”

“Davenport,” Ainsley reminded him.

Nick chuckled. “I think I prefer Andretti. People are going to think I made up that name for the WASPiest lawyer in America.”

“I am the WASPiest lawyer in America - or it’s a four-way tie between me and my brothers,” Ainsley pointed out. “I’m slightly less Italian than a McDonald’s pizza.”

Before they got back to the waiting group, Nick called out, “I know everyone must be hungry and I’m sure there will be time for us to discuss business after we eat.” He gestured to Ainsley. “This is Miss Ainsley Davenport, an attorney with Black and Stringer. If you see me whispering to her, it’s because she knows the answers to more of your questions than I do, but I want to look smart.” After the polite laughter, he added, “If you have sensitive questions that you don’t want to ask me directly, you can bring them to Miss Davenport.”

Nick then turned and headed to the buffet, gesturing to everyone that they should join him. It cut off most of the chance for questions, but one woman in a pink pantsuit managed to reach him just as he was getting to the table. “Nick, I was just wondering if you had a chance to read the prospectus I sent you for our church’s mission to Malawi.”

“I haven’t.” Nick scooped some scrambled eggs onto a plate. “I’m planning to ask Arwen to look it over with me so she can explain any parts I don’t understand.”

Ainsley didn’t miss the sour look on the older woman’s face. Marni Dickinson was Arwen’s stepmother and the tension in their relationship had been a major talking point in the planning of this meeting, second only to Max’s parents and their money issues. Still, she gamely managed to say, “Well, if you have any questions, you can call me. I’m not sure how carefully my daughter’s been following the planning.”

With Ainsley at his back, Nick managed to make it through the food line before Don Whitford intercepted him, gesturing at the wall of TVs. “How’s everything working out for you?”

Nick had deliberately bought most of the home electronics for the loft through the chain store Max’s father managed so that he would get the commission. “I haven’t had a lot of time to watch TV, but everything’s good so far. Those twelve all work as a single screen.”

“Have you thought about computers at all?” Don asked.

“I was going to discuss those with Max,” said Nick. “He knows way more about them than I do.”

Once he made it to the table, people settled down. Nick sat with Ainsley at his left, his stepfather at his right, and his friends taking up the rest of the chairs around the big, round table while their parents found seats elsewhere. Ainsley had met everyone here at least once.

The Dungeons & Dragons game she’d driven him to had been at Simon and Dennis’s house. The two were about as unalike as identical twins could be. Dennis was actually about two inches taller than his brother even before you counted the mop of blonde hair that rose from his scalp and cascaded like a lion’s mane halfway down his back. He wore a faded Pink Floyd t-shirt and torn jeans. Compared to his brother’s neat coiffure and black suit over an unbuttoned white dress shirt, they looked like a rock star and his exasperated manager.

Max was Nick’s near-constant companion when they were in Brownfield Mills. Smart, sardonic, and oddly intense at times, he was the nerdiest of the group. His t-shirt had a joke about asymptotes on it. His breakfast was fresh fruit and a couple of hard boiled eggs. Max had already expressed a certain sensitivity about his weight to Ainsley, but he was really only the sort of heavy that a man could hide with better-tailored clothes.

Directly across the table were Arwen and Lev. Nick had a way of talking about Arwen and Lev in which an astute listener could hear the things he wasn’t talking about more loudly than the things he did. When she’d broached the subject to Max, he’d been happy to fill her in. Arwen was Nick’s first crush and the first girl he’d ever asked out. She’d turned him down. Lev was Arwen’s boyfriend. Nick had introduced them. The rest of the group had been friends since kindergarten. Lev had moved to Brownfield Mills only two years ago.

Arwen was a willowy strawberry blonde in a peasant blouse and flowing skirt. Lev was tall, broad-shouldered, square-jawed, and muscular with a haircut that would have passed muster on a recruit at Quantico. With his slow, quiet Israeli-accented English, he didn’t come off as a great thinker, but he looked like the sort of guy a woman might peel off from the herd for a little anonymous slap and tickle if she weren’t going to be in town long.

They didn’t know it yet, but these were the five people Nick had chosen to help him decide how to spend billions of dollars making the world a better place. As far as anyone knew officially, they were just here to spend a week in New York with their suddenly-wealthy friend. Nick had much bigger plans.

They chatted among themselves as if nothing had changed in the last month, teasing each other and Nick, throwing inside jokes and references alien to Ainsley, and behaving like what they were - a group of kids who’d recently crossed the bright, magical line of their eighteenth birthday and been at least nominally bestowed with the responsibilities and rights of adulthood. Their talk was divided between childish pursuits and the more adult world of jobs, college, and relationships.

And then, little by little, the conversation died out, not just at the table, but around the room. Ainsley looked up to see Kiki in the middle of the floor, headed their way. She carried a cup and plate and had on a thigh-length forest green halter dress that left her shoulders and back exposed. Her hair looked like she hadn’t touched it since waking up.

Ainsley elbowed Nick to give him at least a couple of seconds to prepare, but he was talking to his father and didn’t look up until Kiki said, “Hi, Nick. I heard your friends were here.”

Nick smiled broadly to see her. “How are you feeling?”

“Good.” Kiki returned his smile. “I woke up hungry for the first time in days. I hope you don’t mind if I join you for breakfast.”

Ed Coyle, who’d spent the breakfast eating, listening, and occasionally speaking quietly to his son, rose to his feet. “Please take my chair, Miss...”

“Yuriko Sato.” Kiki took the proffered chair, put her breakfast down, then shook Ed’s hand. “Are you Nick’s father?”

“I am. Ed Coyle.”

The whole room had gotten quiet to hear the conversation. Arwen asked, “So, Nick. When did you and Yuriko meet?”

“Saturday,” said Nick.

“They did a video together for charity,” Max filled in. “It’s called Four Lingerie Models Play Dungeons and Dragons with a Billionaire. We’ll be debuting it on the Fourth.”

Nick glared at Max, but only got a smirk in return. “Actually, I think we dropped the ‘four’ from the title. We did it to raise money for children’s hospitals through the Extra Life Foundation. Hall Dunford came out to run the game.”

“Hall Dunford? Cool,” said Arwen. “If I let somebody take pictures of me in my underwear, will he run a game for me, too?”

That raised a general exclamation from the room with Marni Dickinson’s voice clearly saying the word “Honestly!”

Nick looked around the room like he just realized everyone was listening. Some people suddenly got very interested in their plates and cups. The moment could have turned very ugly, but Nick just shrugged. “You can try that if you want to, but I just thought I’d ask him nicely to come back.”

“So, wait ... you played D&D with a bunch of girls in lingerie?” Simon asked once people at the other tables started talking again.

“No, we were in street clothes,” said Kiki. “I played a wizard.”

“So, are you Nick’s girlfriend now?” Dennis asked.

Kiki shook her head. “No. I was sick the day of the shoot and Nick has been super-sweet about letting me stay here while I convalesce.”

“But, you’re feeling better today, I hope?” Arwen asked.

“I think so,” said Kiki. “I’m definitely ravenous.”

Nick leaned in towards Ainsley and said quietly. “Counselor, why don’t you make the rounds of the tables and find out what people want from me? I’d like to get them back on that bus as soon as I can.”

As soon as Arwen got Lev into her apartment, she leapt into his arms, wrapped her legs around his waist, and kissed him passionately. Lev held her easily, returning the kiss. Even when she came up for air, he kept his hands under her ass making a broad, comfortable seat.

“Have you seen this place?” asked Arwen. “We are going to have so much sex this week.”

Lev laughed. “That thought did occur to me immediately, but you do remember that our parents are right down the hall at the moment. Right?”

Arwen kissed him again. “The Wicked is going to be busy pestering Nick about sponsoring her sainthood for a while. I bet we could get in a quickie before anyone even noticed we were gone.”

A sharp knock came at the apartment door. Lev put Arwen down on the floor and she had just enough time to turn and face her father as he walked in. She and Lev were still close together, but not quite touching.

“Lev” said Mr. Dickinson.

“Mr. Dickinson,” said Lev. He stepped around Arwen and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “I should go finish unpacking.”

Once Lev had left, Arwen’s father looked around. “Nice place you’ve got here. It looks like Nick really went all out.”

Arwen nodded. “Are you two heading out for the big bus tour of New York?”

“In a few minutes,” said her father. “I just wanted to talk to you about something before we left.”

Arwen let herself fall into a recliner. “You wanted to talk to me about something or the Wicked wanted you to talk to me about something?”

Her father scowled. “You know, she really wishes you wouldn’t call her that.”

“She did eventually start to call me Arwen. I may eventually learn to call her Marni, but it won’t be today,” said Arwen. “Why don’t you tell me what’s on your minds?”

He looked around the room for anything to rest his eyes on except his daughter. “Your stepmother is concerned that you’re not going to take the whole mission to Malawi thing seriously when you talk to Nick about it.”

Arwen shrugged. “Why would I talk to Nick about the Malawi mission? I don’t really know anything about it. If Nick thinks it’s a good idea, he’ll probably give them some money. If he doesn’t, I won’t. I’m not going to go out of my way to scuttle it if that’s what you’re asking. I’m not petty enough to deny people in Africa food or water or whatever because it might turn up on the Wicked’s application for sainthood.”

“Nick told your stepmother he was going to ask you about it before he made a decision,” her father said.

Arwen gave a short, sharp bark of laughter. Good old Nick. “Did he? That must have gone over well.”

He leaned against the back of the chair across from her. “So, I can tell your stepmother you’ll give it serious consideration?”

“I’ll have to read whatever she sent to Nick,” said Arwen. “It would be helpful if she sent me a copy so I know what I’m talking about. But, as long as it does good work and isn’t just hitting starving people over the head with Bibles, I’ll probably tell him to go ahead and give whatever he wants to give.”

Her father was up and moving again, opening the bathroom door to consider the room. With his head wholly out of the living room, he said, “You know your stepmother and I aren’t crazy about you spending a week in New York unsupervised with five boys. Right?”

Arwen sighed. “She does remember I’m leaving for college in September. Right? I’m not about to screw up all of my closest friendships by letting these guys gangbang me when I can wait a couple of months and do that sort of thing anonymously.”

“Not funny,” said her father firmly. He turned to look at her. “You know that’s not really what we’re worried about. Right?”

Arwen wasn’t about to let him off easily on that statement. If she was going to have a squirmy conversation with her father, everybody was going to squirm. “Why don’t you tell me what you are concerned about, then?”

Her father considered the linen closet. “You know ... just because you’re away from home, that doesn’t mean you have to start having sex. I know you’ve liked Lev for a while now...”

“Dad!” she said sharply, then paused. Until this moment, she’d assumed her sex life was one of those things the Wicked and her Thrall knew about, but chose to ignore because they were “choosing their battles.” Did they seriously think she was still a virgin?

She took a deep breath. “Whatever I choose to do or not do with Lev will be because I want to or don’t want to, not because I have to.”

“Good, good,” said her father, sounding distracted. “Did you notice this apartment doesn’t have a kitchen? There are some cabinets and a small refrigerator, but I don’t think there’s even a microwave. That’s going to make them hard to rent out after this week.”

Emily waited until she was sure the busload of parents had left before she ventured out in search of Nick. At Ainsley’s direction, she found him in the game room which was, of course, on the opposite side of the building from her borrowed apartment. It’s wasn’t a distance she normally would have noticed, but on crutches, it was a bit excruciating. When she came into the game room, Nick was shooting pool. As soon as he saw her, he rushed over to meet her. “Emily. How are you getting around?”

“Better than yesterday,” said Emily. “I was hoping you and I could talk for a minute.”

Nick guided her to a horseshoe-shaped black leather couch, helped her sit, then sat in profile to her. “Were you able to log into all of my accounts all right?”

“I was,” said Emily. “I’ve only barely started sorting out the settings, though. I wanted to talk to you about the settlement.”

Nick sat back. “Okay. It’s my first. I’ve never offered anybody money not to sue me before.”

“You know I wouldn’t have sued you or Jazz, right?” Emily said. “You weren’t to blame and Jazz is practically the only person who was willing to hire me to model this year.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” said Nick. “But, I’ll be honest. Ainsley suggested the settlement for litigation avoidance, but I agreed to it because I knew you weren’t going to be able to work for a while and it didn’t sound like Jazz could afford to take care of it. I don’t feel like the accident was my fault, but I do feel like I’m in the best position to clean up after it.”

Emily nodded slowly. “Then, what’s the social media job for? You know you’re paying me more for that than I was making modeling?”

“I didn’t.” Nick shrugged. “I told Marsha to pay you a competitive salary for a social media director in New York City. I don’t actually know how much that is and, if you don’t tell me, I’ll go on not knowing and that’s fine.”

“I don’t actually know how to be a social media director,” Emily admitted.

Nick shrugged again. “So, bring someone in to train you. Once you go back to modeling full time, I’ll need someone else to take over the role anyway and maybe you’ll pick up some skills for managing your millions of followers.”

Emily closed her eyes and didn’t speak for a while until she said, “Do you want to sleep with me, Nick? Kiki seems to think you’re just being nice to me.”

A snort of laughter escaped Nick. “God, Emily. Of course I want to sleep with you. You’re gorgeous and friendly and funny and incredibly sexy and...” He drew facing bezier curves in the air with his hands. “But, if you’re asking if I expect you to have sex with me because I helped you out when you were down, no. I did that because I wanted to help.”

Emily sat and considered him for a long time. She wanted to believe Nick, but Clive had rarely been able to be honest about their arrangement. He usually claimed that she was just someone he’d met that he was helping out, even to her face.

She swallowed and went on. “Nick, if you weren’t helping me, I’d probably have to go back to my old boyfriend. He’s old and kind of gross, but he paid my rent for years and he wants me back.” The next admission was hard, but she had to say it. “I’ve been a gold digger. If those words mean anything, they describe what I had with Clive. If that’s what you want from me ... that kind of arrangement, I’d rather say yes to you than to him.”

To Emily, it looked like there was a war going on behind Nick’s eyes. She thought for sure he was trying to find a way to accept her offer that would leave his self-image intact, but he finally said, “Emily, is that what you want out of life? If you do, I can offer a lot better than...” He took a deep breath. “I’m not looking to take advantage of you. I couldn’t live with myself if Emily King asked me whether or not I wanted to sleep with her and I was dishonest enough to say ‘no,’ but I don’t want anybody in my bed who doesn’t want to be there. Do you want to sleep with me?”

Put like that, there was only one answer Emily could give. “A hell of a lot more than I did when I walked in that door, but ... No. Not yet. I’m not sure I really want to have sex with anyone right now. I’ve only ever been with Clive and it was really bad at the end. I’m just starting to think that sex with someone else might be better. But...”

Nick let out an unsteady chuckle. “You know ... that might be the best rejection in the history of rejections.”

Emily allowed herself a small smile. “‘Not yet’ isn’t actually a rejection. It’s just ... not yet.”

Ainsley knocked at the game room door and, when Nick told her to come in, said, “Your friends are gathering in Conference Room A.”