Overseas (34 page)

“Ha freaking ha.”

“I
have
urged honorable marriage as an alternative. Say the word, and I’ll whisk you down to City Hall and end all this rubbish about dependency.”

“But then it’s just the same thing under another name, isn’t it?”

He drew my head into his chest. “Kate,
please
.”

“Sorry.” I rubbed my forehead against his shirt, absorbing him. “I think this is called a culture clash.”

“There’s a difference between giving and sharing, darling. I’m not
giving
you anything. You’re a part of me. It’s all just
yours
.”

“Hmm. I guess I’ll ponder that for a while.” I leaned back and broke into a smile. “Look at you. That’s the same expression you wear when you’re studying a stock chart.”

“You’re far more bloody complex than a stock chart. It’s not as though you
enjoyed
working at Sterling Bates, after all.”

I shook my head and went up on my toes to kiss him. “Don’t worry, I’ll figure things out. My own fault, actually. I’ve been kicking back the past three months, enjoying myself, instead of getting serious about the whole career thing.”

“You’re allowed a respite, darling.”

“Not a permanent one.”

“Look,” he said, still looking worried, “if you’d like to invite Michelle or Samantha up, or your brother, your parents again…”

I ground my lip under my teeth. I loved my parents, of course, but I’d hardly yet recovered from the awkwardness of their first visit, nearly two months ago. Julian, the honorable nitwit, had called up my father before proposing last May, asking for his consent—
consent
, mind you, not blessing—to marry me. Dad, probably feeling a little like poor old Mr. Bennet, hadn’t dared to refuse him, but he and Mom had insisted on hopping a plane two weeks later to check out the situation firsthand.

Julian had been perfectly charming, of course: the complete host, attentive and conversational, treating them with filial respect and me with his usual open easy affection. We’d gone sailing and sightseeing and out to dinner at one of the famous local inns, and on the last evening Dad and
Julian had worked the brand-new Weber grill, Heinies in hand, discussing steak and baseball. “What are you thinking, honey?” Mom had asked, noticing me staring at them through the French doors from the kitchen.

Oh, if only Churchill could see him
now
.

“Just that it’s great to see them getting along so well.”

“Oh, your father’s come completely around. Thinks the world of Julian now. I told him so,” she’d added, with a little sigh. “I didn’t think they made men like that anymore.”

It had been on the tip of my tongue to say
Actually, they don’t
, and then I’d realized I couldn’t tell her, couldn’t
ever
tell her that essential truth. It was Julian’s secret to reveal, if and when he chose. And though I’d never been deeply intimate with my mother—maybe once a week on the phone, visits every few months—that jagged epiphany had cut me with an unexpected sharpness, one that hadn’t dulled over the long dreamlike weeks since.

“I’m sure they’d be delighted to come back,” I said now, reluctantly. “Or Michelle and Samantha. But that’s not the real problem at the moment. I want to come to the city with you, and you won’t let me.”

“I’m not
forbidding
you.” He looked scandalized. “Just
asking
you.”

“Bringing extreme moral pressure to bear.”

“Beloved, if one hair on your head were hurt because of me, and my wretched past, I’d never forgive myself. It’s why I stayed away from you, until my willpower ran dry.” His voice took on an agonized edge. “It’s my
weakness
that’s put you in danger.”

I took his face in my hands. “Julian. Don’t be ridiculous.
I
chose this. I chose
you.
So whatever happens to me is
my
fault, not yours.” I pushed out a smile, linked my fingers behind his neck. “So get going. Save the world. Do what you have to do. Only think about what I said, okay? Please? Because you can’t just cover me in bubble wrap forever. I won’t let you.”

He kissed me tenderly, then hard; then he climbed into the car and drove off. I stood waving in the driveway until he went around the bend and disappeared from sight.

Time to give Charlie a call. Because enough was really enough.

19.

“So this is, like, a jailbreak? Is he going to be totally pissed?”

I rolled my eyes and took a drink of coffee, just to show how relaxed I was. “Don’t be stupid, Charlie. He’s not holding me
prisoner
up there.”

We were sitting in a sidewalk café on Broadway and 116th Street, near the Columbia campus, where Charlie was settling into his student digs before the start of his first quarter of business school. The smell of summertime Manhattan saturated the air, strange and familiar, exhaust and hot pavement and sour human: a world apart from the dense green living scent of the Connecticut backwoods.

“So why the secrecy? I’m kind of spooked, dude. He could blackball me if he finds out.”

“He’d never do that. Not his style at all.”

“You think not? Dude, have you no
idea
what’s been going on at Sterling Bates the last three months? Your man has balls of spun fucking steel.”

“That was different. That was about Alicia.”

“Dude, it’s like he’s trying to take the whole fucking bank down. It’s messed up. He must really have a thing for you.”

“He’s not trying to take the bank down, Charlie. They’re handling that part by themselves.”

“Well, someone at Southfield has it in for them. The shit I’ve heard…” He shook his head and drained his coffee.

I frowned. “Like what?”

“Like that huge position, the one I told you about, before you bit it last May, was mostly fed to them by Southfield.” He leaned forward. “And it’s total shit. Like, it’s still sitting on the books. They can’t unload it. All fucking leveraged and shit. Bad news.”

“Wait a minute. What kind of securities are we talking about?”

“I don’t know. Some kind of CDO. I’m guessing mortgages.”

“So maybe that was Alicia’s deal,” I said slowly. “She got one of our traders to buy up their stuff in exchange for Southfield agreeing to set me up…”

“
Laurence
set you up?”

“No, one of his traders did.” I snorted. “One mystery solved.”

“And Laurence didn’t tell you?”

“I didn’t ask. I just assumed she was blackmailing the guy. That’s her usual MO. Jeez, no wonder they fired me. They must’ve thought I was trying to blow up the bank.”

“Well, I hear they’re meeting at headquarters right now.”

“Who?”

“
All
the swinging dicks. Treasury. The Fed. Bank CEOs. Trying to save the sinking fucking ship.”

My mouth dropped open. “
That’s
the big meeting? Saving
Sterling
Bates
?”

“Why? What?”

“Nothing.” I shifted in my chair, feeling its hardness through the thin cotton jersey of my sundress. Was
this
why Julian was so paranoid about my safety?

“So Laurence’s in it too, huh? And he didn’t even tell you?”

I jumped to Julian’s defense. “He couldn’t, idiot. It’s not public.”

“Yeah, well,
I
heard about it,” Charlie said. “So someone’s not keeping the secret very well.”

“Well, it’s not Julian. He’d never put me in that position.”

Charlie sat back and looked at me curiously. “What does that mean?” he asked. “You’re not getting back in the game, are you?”

“Of course I am. I’m not
retired,
Charlie. I have ambitions.”

“Seriously. Wow.” His head tilted. “Well, you’re set now, right? You could get any job you want.”

“Oh please. I’ll have to reapply to Tuck…”

He laughed aloud. “What the fuck are you talking about? You don’t
need
business school
anymore, dude. You’re Laurence’s chick; you’re fucking hired.”

“I’m not going to have Julian pull strings for me!”

“You won’t have to. Everyone knows who you are. Everyone wants an in with him.” Charlie shrugged. “You could do whatever the fuck you want now. If he lets you.”

An unexpected breeze ruffled the wisps of hair at my temples, punctuating his words, and I thought, incredulous,
He’s right
. I’d been drowsing away in Connecticut all summer, living so simply, basking in the vibrant glow of Julian’s love. I hadn’t even thought about how something so personal could affect me professionally; it hadn’t even occurred to me that
of course
everyone on the Street would be begging to hire Julian Laurence’s fiancée. I
could
do whatever I wanted, which really meant I couldn’t do anything anymore.

Not on my own merit. Not as Kate Wilson.

Nothing would ever be the same, would it? I’d never be normal again. Never be just
myself
again. My brain ground slowly to a halt, trying to process this information. “You know,” I said numbly, looking down at my BlackBerry on the table, “I should probably check in now.”

“Check
in
? Dude, so this
is
a jailbreak.”

“It’s not like that. He’s just protective.”

“Fucking paranoid.”

“Well, put yourself in his place. He’s got money; someone could, like, kidnap me. I’m just lucky he hasn’t posted a bodyguard on me.”

“How do you know he hasn’t?”

“Be serious. He’d tell me. Ask me first.”

Charlie laughed and sat back in his chair, stretching out his legs. “Well, he will
now
, if he finds out where you are.”

I shot him an annoyed look and picked up my BlackBerry.
Just checking in. Miss you. When are you coming home?
I was about to press Send when a twinge of curiosity stopped my finger.
I hear from Charlie you’re meeting about SB. True, false, no comment?

The reply flashed back.

Charlie’s voice cut through the happy haze. “Look at that love-struck smile. You’ve got it bad, dude. What did he say?”

“None of your beeswax,
dude
.”

The phone buzzed again. I looked down.

Oh
wait.
Oh
crap.

The phone rang.

“Where exactly
are
you, Kate?” asked a crisp British voice, deceptively mild.

A taxi honked, ten feet away. I cleared my throat. “Um, Broadway and One hundred and sixteenth. I just have things to take care of, and I was going a little nuts by myself up there. I thought I might surprise you.”

“I’m surprised.” Still way too mild.

“Julian, it’s all right. Charlie’s with me. We’re at a coffeehouse, hundreds of people in view. Totally, totally safe. More safe than Lyme, where no one can hear me scream.”

Silence.

“Julian, please say something. Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad. I’m thinking.”

“Look, I just didn’t want you to worry. It isn’t as though…” I glanced at Charlie and checked myself.

Julian seemed to read my mind. “Hmm. Is Charlie still there?”

I looked across the table. “Yes.”

“Put him on.”

I held the phone out to Charlie. “He wants to talk to you.”

Charlie turned white. “
Fuck
, dude,” he hissed. “What do I say?”

“Come on, Charlie.” I smiled. “Strap on a pair of balls, for once.”

He glared at me evilly and took the phone. “Um, sir?” he asked. He listened closely for a few seconds. “Um, no, not yet… Nope, no plans… Yeah, I could do that… No problem… Like glue, I swear… Every hour… Eight o’clock, yeah… Okay, bye.”

He handed the phone back. I put it to my ear, but Julian had already hung up.

“Well?” I demanded.

He folded his arms with a grin. “I think the big guy just hired you a bodyguard for the day.”

“S
O WHAT WAS
that about eight o’clock?” I remembered to ask Charlie half an hour later, as we were rattling down the subway to Seventy-ninth Street to catch the crosstown bus to my apartment.

“Not sure, but I think that’s on a need-to-know basis only,” Charlie said.

“And you don’t think I need to know?”

“Dude, I answer only to Laurence now,” he said. “So are you guys, like, engaged or whatever?” He nodded at my left hand where it gripped the pole.

“Kind of,” I said, switching hands.

“Jeez. Not much bling for a billionaire. You should have held out on him.”

“Not my style.”

He nodded sagely. “That’s probably why he’s so into you.”

The train slammed into the Seventy-ninth Street station, and we got out. My phone buzzed as soon as the cell signal hit.

Would you like to stay here tonight?

Well, that was something. “Hold on a sec, Charlie,” I said, and sat down on the bench to reply.

Of course. Where else?

“Come on, dude,” Charlie said. “The bus doesn’t care who your boyfriend is.”

I followed him up the stairs to the M79 bus stop on Broadway, where the next e-mail came in.

Did you bring your key?

The bus roared up and pitched to a stop; we climbed on and sat down.