New York Billionaires Series

“Yes. You were lovely, by the way. You mentioned canyons for some reason, and never told me why.”

“Canyons. Like… the Grand Canyon?”

“I assumed, but who knows what went on inside your brain.”

I laugh and reach for my glass. “You do look handsome in suits,” I say. “I don’t need to be drugged to think that.”

He gives me a wide smile. “What a compliment. But why did that make you hesitate in the beginning?”

“Well, it’s… I suppose it’s a long story.” I say. “But the world of businessmen and briefcases and suits has always struck me as kind of fake.”

“Fake,” he repeats.

“Yeah. Like, snake-oil charmers and Wall Street bankers. People who can’t work with their hands, who don’t know a trade, you know. I realize this is all pretty insulting, and I really don’t mean it that way. I know you’re not like that.”

He shrugs. “Well, others might disagree. I help build companies and occasionally dismantle them. It’s a trade but it’s not a very visible one. I don’t get calluses from it.”

I shake my head. “It’s definitely a job, and an important one. It was really my own prejudice that got in the way. And combined with all the layoffs in the beginning, well…”From NôvelDrama.Org.

“You didn’t have a high opinion of me,” he says softly.

“Not in the beginning, no.” I hesitate for a moment, meeting his eyes. The oddly golden eyes, so often dancing with humor. They’re serious now. “You asked me why I wanted to be a journalist a while back. Didn’t you?”

He nods. “You spoke about reading the newspaper with your dad.”

“Yes, and that’s definitely part of it. But something else happened to my family when I was fifteen.” I twist my glass around, looking at the red liquid. “My dad’s a dentist, right? And he was approached by a businessman with a great investment opportunity.”

Carter’s voice is hesitant. “Ah.”

“Yes. It was a textbook con, but the man knew so much about Dad’s industry. Had statistics and books and could show why this dental company would revolutionize the industry. Several dentists in the area had already signed on.”

“I’m sorry,” Carter says. He’s already caught on.

I nod. “Well, Dad invested way too much. College funds, retirements. Thank God he didn’t take out a second mortgage on the house, at any rate. And the businessman-a con man, really-took everything.”

“Did you try to press charges?”

“Yes, but there was nothing to tie him to. The name was an alias. The addresses were PO boxes. The accounts were cleaned.”

“Let me guess,” he says. “He wore suits?”

“Impeccably tailored ones, yes. He had dinner with us all a few times too. Really wined and dined my parents.” I’ll never forget him, for the rest of my life. Nearly as tall as Carter and with dark hair. Lines around his eyes that crinkled when he smiled. A man who radiated warmth and trustworthiness. A shiver of unease runs through me, as it always does when I think about him.

To have laughed with someone who, all the while, was planning on stealing every last cent my parents had worked so hard for.

“Audrey, I’m sorry,” Carter says.

I shake my head. “It was a decade ago. My family’s recovered. Dad still… smarts from it, but no one got physically hurt at least. That’s what matters.”

“And you never trusted a man in a suit after that,” he says, fingering the lapel of his jacket. “I’ll burn every single one I own.”

I laugh and reach across the table, finding his hand. It’s warm beneath mine. “Absolutely not. You’re not the same as him, I know that. I knew that from the first time we met!”

“What was his name?” Carter asks. “Did you ever manage to find him? Get justice?”

I shake my head. “Will C. Jenner was the alias he used. We didn’t find anyone who matched his description with that name.”

“Fuck. What a scoundrel,” he says.

“Yeah. We tried talking about it to the papers, too. Dad didn’t have a picture of him, but he could describe him very well. But no one was interested in running the story,” I say. It still feels like an insult. A good investigative journalist could have followed a trail. Found other families devastated by this man. Made it into a bigger story of con artists in the country. But no one was interested. “I guess only the Bernie Madoffs attract national attention.”

Carter’s voice is low. “That’s why you want to be a journalist. Why you’re working on the story of that construction company evicting tenants in Queens.”

“Yes, I think so. A problem can’t get fixed if people don’t know about it, you know? That’s my job as a journalist. Our job as a newspaper. Equip people with knowledge.”

His mouth curls into a small smile. “Do I sound naive?” I ask. “I know the Globe ‘s numbers aren’t the best.”

“No,” he agrees, “they aren’t. But you keep making compelling argument after argument to keep it running.”

“Am I convincing you?”

“Kid, you convinced me a long time ago,” he says. “I just have to get the numbers to add up.”

It’s late when we leave the bar. Late enough that the bartender is cleaning off the counter, and only a few stragglers are left. The drinks have left me happy and lightheaded and a little brave.

A lot brave.

“I’ll drive you home,” Carter says. His hand brushes against mine as we walk along the curb. “Say goodnight outside your deathtrap of a house.”

“It’s not so bad. It has… charm.”

“You don’t have a lock on your door,” he says, like that’s the end of the conversation.

I shrug. “I guess I’m just more of a trusting person than you are.”

“Probably, but I wouldn’t say that’s a good thing.”

We pause on the sidewalk and wait for his black town car to arrive. I rock back on my heels, butterflies dancing inside my throat. “Well… it’s got one redeeming feature.”

“Yes,” Carter says. “Its tenant.”

I laugh. “Thank you. But I was referring to something else. The fire escape.”

“A way to leave your apartment in case of a fire isn’t a redeeming feature. It’s a legal requirement.”

I nudge his shoulder with mine. It’s solid, a brick wall. “But it’s so New York. For a girl from out of town, I feel like a character in a sitcom.”

“You sit out there?”