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  “No, but Toby hasn’t managed to keep an assistant for longer than a month, so I end up filling in.”

  “A month?” Laurie shot her a sly look. “His track record’s even worse than mine.”

  Marian glanced cautiously from side to side as she lowered her voice. “That’s because he’s insu erable.”

  “And I wasn’t?” Laurie adopted an expression of mock indignance. “That hurts.”

  “Oh, you could be brutal, without a doubt,” Marian agreed, “but you never asked from others more than you were willing to do yourself.”

  “Relying on others has never been my style. Look what happens when I try.” Laurie gestured toward the empty o ce. “I couldn’t have made it any clearer that this meeting was of the utmost importance.”

  “I’m sure it was merely an oversight. Let me make a quick call and see if I can figure out what’s going on. It’s only a little after ten o’clock in London, so I’m sure Toby’s still up.” Marian ducked inside Toby’s o ce, the same one he’d always occupied, even though he’d technically been put in charge. Laurie wondered how many times he’d walked down Executive Row during her absence and resented the fact he’d yet to be o ered an upgrade to the corner spot.

  “Please forgive me for not noticing your appointment on the calendar earlier.” As Marian slid back out of the o ce, she fell short of making eye contact, and the reason for her expression was clear. She was about to fall on her sword for a boss who didn’t deserve her loyalty. “I don’t know how I could’ve overlooked it.”

  Because it wasn’t there, Laurie refrained from saying. “No matter. I can speak to one of the managing directors while I’m here. How about Kinsey?”

  Marian sank into the chair at the assistant’s desk and pulled up a calendar on the computer. “I’m afraid he’s accompanied Toby to London.”

  “Graham?”

  “Nope. Same.”

  “He took Kinsey and Graham?” Laurie pressed her lips together, forming a thin, hard line as she processed this unexpected news. Then she posed the question she should’ve asked before. “Exactly what is Toby doing there?”

  “Meeting with a prospective client was all he said.”

  Laurie’s brows drew together in suspicion. “Which one?”

  “Oh, let’s see.” Marian tapped her finger against the desk. “It was so last minute, but I know I heard him mention a name. Ornos? Othos?”

  Laurie’s body went cold. “Silvio Othonos?”

  “That was it.” Marian’s face paled as her eyes scanned Laurie’s face. “Is that not good?”

  “I told Toby yesterday that this Othonos business had to be approached with extreme care, and the final team had to be thoroughly vetted. I pulled together an entire dossier, for Christ’s sake.” Laurie pulled a thick file folder from her bag and slapped it onto the desk. “And instead of listening to me, he’s hopped the pond with our top fund managers like a trigger-happy big game hunter on safari.”

  “It…” Marian swallowed. “It does sound like something he would do.”

  Damn him. He was going to ruin everything. A fire began to kindle in Laurie’s belly, filling her with a warmth unlike anything she’d experienced since the cold had descended on her the day she’d learned her wife had cancer. “Get Dobbs on the phone, and maybe Stewart. Who else can I meet with?”

  “You mean right now?” Marian’s eyes grew wider.

  “Tonight?”

  “Of course, tonight,” Laurie answered, trying not to sound too snappish. “If I’m going to assemble my own team on this proposal, I don’t have much time. I need a top fund manager, ASAP.”

  “Yes, of course.” Marian gave her an appraising look while a faint smile widened to a grin. She clicked the keyboard with lightning speed and then met Laurie’s gaze, biting her lower lip. “Well, there’s Andrew.”

  Laurie frowned as she tried and failed to place the name Marian had mentioned from among the best managers she recalled working with in the past. But try as she might, the only person she could think of by that name was a young relative she knew from the occasional family holiday gathering. “You can’t possibly mean little Andy, Bonnie’s nephew?”

  “That’s the one,” Marian confirmed.

  “There’s no one else?”

  “Everyone else is clocked out. There’s a storm coming, you know.”

  “Sure there is.” Laurie gave Marian a dubious look, which reflected her feelings about the blizzard and the candidate’s suitability for the role in equal measure. “Seriously, though, Andy?”

  “He’s been a manager for several months now.” It did not escape Laurie’s attention that the key word top had been

  omitted from Marian’s description. “Shall I page him?”

  “I don’t know,” Laurie quipped. “Are you sure he’s old enough to drive?”

  “Believe it or not, he’s only a year younger than my Christina,” Marian said, ignoring Laurie’s characteristic snark, though her tone wasn’t quite as reassuring as she’d probably hoped it would be.

  “I’m aware.” Laurie shook her head at how quickly time seemed to pass. “I still remember that day I came in with an entire contingent from Hong Kong, and he was wearing one of Christina’s dresses because he’d accidently wet his pants in the middle of Executive Row.”

  Marian sighed. “It took weeks to get that stain out of the carpet. Poor Andy.”

  As if responding to the sound of his name, a lanky man with sandy brown hair and the distinctive Emerson family chin rushed down the hall, displaying all the grace of a clumsy puppy. When he saw Laurie, he froze. “It’s… uh… It’s you.”

  “Hello, Andrew. It’s good to see you again.”

  Andy’s brow crumpled. He seemed to recover momentarily then folded again. Finally, he squeaked, “Are you going to fire me?”

  “No. I’m going to o er you the opportunity of a lifetime.”

  Laurie snatched the folder she’d thrown onto Marian’s desk and held it out to the young man. “Silvio Othonos, the legendary shipping tycoon, is about to announce a search for a new management company. The account is worth billions.

  In here is everything we’ll need to pull together a winning pitch. I want you ready for a meeting with me first thing in the morning.”

  “Me?” The young man’s mouth dropped open so far Laurie could see his tonsils. “You chose me?”

  “Yes, but don’t let it go to your head. It’s for no other reason than you are literally the only person left in the o ce right now.” Laurie’s tone wasn’t nearly as harsh as she was capable of but sharp enough that his mouth snapped shut, which was a relief. “Everyone else seems to have been scared o by the threat of a few flakes. That tells me you at least have a work ethic. I’ll need that on my team.”

  “But, I think Toby may have already pulled together a team for that bid,” Andy pointed out. “They’re in London right now.”

  “That’s his team. You’re on my team.” Laurie shifted her focus to Marian. “And so are you. I want my o ce ready for me by tomorrow morning, and there better be fresh flowers on that table when I arrive. You ready to be my assistant again?”

  Marian’s eyes twinkled. “Absolutely.”

  As Andy still had not responded, Laurie fixed him with a level stare, the kind she knew was capable of inspiring both loyalty and terror. “I need this done now and done right.

  Before Toby returns.”

  “Before…” Andy took a long, hard look at the floor, perhaps hoping it’d swallow him whole and save him from the inevitable disaster on the horizon when Toby found out.

  Then he splayed his fingers over his chest, a flicker of doggedness momentarily hardening his jaw into the appearance of surprising maturity. “I’ll get the ball rolling on this immediately. I promise.”

  Though Laurie didn’t envy the poor kid when Toby got wind of his betrayal, she really hoped she’d be there to see the look in Toby’s eyes when he did. It served the man right for treating her with such
disregard. Anger stirred in her breast, and though she was exhausted already from the emotional exertion of the day, it simply wasn’t in her nature to let anyone else have the last word. “One more thing.”

  Andy’s eyes widened. “Yes?”

  “Somehow my badge was accidentally deactivated—”

  Andy opened his mouth to speak, but she waved for him to be quiet, feeling a slight thrill when he actually obeyed without so much as a whimper. Thank God she hadn’t lost her touch during her self-imposed exile. She sure as hell was going to need it. “It’s being taken care of. Now that I’m back, I plan to have a word with the head of security about certain protocols. But I do need you to do something for me.”

  Andy nodded, mute.

  “Tell Toby that if he wants to avoid an all-out declaration of war, he’ll make sure nothing like that ever happens to his stepmother again. Got it?”

  Laurie strode to the elevator, adrenaline pumping. With her back to Andy and Marian, she broke into a grin. Oh, yeah, I’m back, all right.

  It was cold but clear when she stepped outside the building. Since she felt like herself again for the first time in forever, Laurie wanted to celebrate.

  C H A P T E R T W O

  JACK LOOKED UP AT THE SOUND OF KNUCKLES RAPPING AGAINST THE

  metal doorframe of her o ce. Denise, the department’s o ce manager, wiggled her fingers in a perky greeting.

  Jack blinked. “Yes?”

  “Storm’s blowin’ in tonight,” Denise said in her thick Boston accent.

  Had she truly interrupted Jack’s train of thought to chat about the weather? Jack glanced out the window. It was nearly dark, but she could still make out the patches of dormant brown grass and cloud-free sky outside. “Looks pretty clear.”

  Denise shrugged, dismissing the evidence. Like most New Englanders, the promise of a storm was the highlight of her week. Whether it would snow and how many inches might accumulate could be topics of conversation for days.

  “The twinge in my shoulder says a nor’easter’s on its way. We’re going to need phone coverage starting at seven o’clock tomorrow morning. You know how Mr. Emerson feels about having a real human answer the phones, Snowmageddon or not.”

  “That’s a job for the administrative assistants,” Jack pointed out, trying her best to keep her voice free from the

  annoyance that was bubbling up inside. “Why are you telling me?”

  “Because all the schools in the metro area have already called a snow day for tomorrow, and you’re the only one left in the o ce right now who doesn’t have kids.”

  “I’m a portfolio manager,” Jack responded through gritted teeth. Why did it feel like no one could remember that simple fact? Just because she was female and had gone to a state university didn’t mean she was any less qualified than the guys on her team with their Ivy League diplomas—most of whom didn’t have kids, either, by the way, yet no one was asking them to do early morning phone coverage. Maybe she got asked because, try as she might, Jack couldn’t always keep her own South Boston accent under wraps. It made people like Denise think it was okay to take advantage because she was one of them.

  “Come on, please? You get to spend a free night all by yourself at a four-star hotel, with a voucher for a bu et breakfast, too. Plus, it definitely puts you on Mr. Emerson’s good list.”

  “Mom’s in Ireland visiting family, so I have the house to myself, anyway,” Jack argued, “and I don’t even eat breakfast.”

  As for Toby Emerson, Jack was fairly certain she was so far o his radar he wouldn’t recognize her even if he ran her over in that fancy sportscar he loved to race after hours through the empty streets of downtown Boston. Reckless?

  Sure. But since Emerson Management had overseen the police department’s retirement fund for a decade with a phenomenal rate of return, Toby and his cherry red Porsche had a license to speed. Meanwhile Jack averaged a parking ticket per week for trying to find a spot on her own street in South Boston.

  Denise tilted her head to one side and fixed her with a desperate look. “You know you’re going to be here at the crack of dawn anyway. You always are. If you agree to cover the phones, I won’t have to battle the storm delays on the trains, and you know how bad the commuter rail is from Attleboro whenever it snows. You’re my only hope.” She pressed her palms together.

  Jack sighed, defeated. “Fine. I’ll do it, but I better not hear a peep out of anyone when I submit my bar tab tonight for reimbursement.”

  Denise grinned. “Thanks, Jack. You’re a lifesaver.”

  After Denise disappeared from the doorway, Jack turned back to her computer with a sigh. Sometimes it felt like she was going to be the lowest person on the totem pole forever, always struggling for recognition and to make ends meet.

  She sure as hell had never expected to be twenty-nine years old and still living with her mother, but times had been tough for both of them since her dad died, and it seemed like the city got more expensive every year. All she needed was one big project, one chance to prove herself, and she’d finally have the savings and job security she needed to move out on her own.

  Though her clock said it wasn’t much past six, it had grown impossibly quiet, so much so that Jack felt compelled to get up and scan the rest of the o ce for signs of life. Not a soul could be seen. Apparently, the specter of a few feet of snow had sent all of her colleagues scurrying home, stopping on the way to stock up on bread, eggs, and milk, no doubt.

  Why did everyone think they needed those three items specifically at the first mention of a storm? Was it an unwritten law that every citizen of Massachusetts had to make French toast to ward o foul weather?

  Actually, Jack had a pretty good idea where the rest of her team had disappeared to. It happened every January, when

  happy hours at the Corner Pub gave way to racket ball and free weights at the gym. Her colleagues had asked her a few times, but it wasn’t her scene. Guys never seemed capable of understanding why she wouldn’t enjoy the prospect of getting sweaty in a room full of men who had a hard enough time keeping their locker room humor in check when she wasn’t wearing head-to-toe Spandex. Of course, the old boys club mentality was alive and thriving in the financial industry, which meant prime assignments got handed out when she wasn’t there. Another reason Jack feared she’d never get ahead.

  She was about to return to her o ce when the chiming of the elevator stopped her in her tracks. The door slid open, and a man stepped out. Though they’d never formally met, Jack recognized him instantly as Andrew Emerson, one of the company’s top executives, even if rumor had it he was not the most competent leaf on the Emerson family tree.

  Andrew paused, looking around as if lost, while he ran one hand through his slightly shaggy hair. Spotting Jack, his face melted into relief. “I’m looking for a portfolio manager.”

  Jack nodded. “You’re in the right place, although I’m afraid most of the team’s gone home. There’s a storm coming, or so I’ve heard.”

  Andrew pulled a sheet of paper from the breast pocket of his suit coat and held it out to read. “Je Kelly?”

  Jack shook her head. “Gone.”

  “Bruce Draper?”

  “Sorry.”

  Andrew read out half a dozen more names with increasing frustration as Jack informed him they’d all left. Finally, he tossed up his hands. “I guess I’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”

  “You mean Jack Kennedy isn’t on that list?” she asked with a frown.

  He gave a little chuckle. “Like the president?”

  “Like the portfolio manager,” Jack corrected.

  “Well, it wasn’t a complete list. Only a few names I came up with o the top of my head.” That certainly explained why Jack wasn’t on it. For all the work she did around this place, she was virtually invisible. “So, Jack Kennedy, is he still in the o ce?”

  “Yeah.” Jack cocked an eyebrow. “You’re looking at her.”

  Andrew’s face flushed as he realized his
error. “I’m sorry.

  I guess I assumed with a name like Jack…”

  “It’s Jacqueline, and before you ask, no, I’m not related to the president or Jackie O.” No matter how many times her mother had made that claim all over town, Jack had never felt right letting people think she was someone she wasn’t.

  “My mom’s a huge fan of the Kennedy family.”

  “Ah, well…”

  As Andrew stumbled around for words, Jack’s stomach dropped. Whatever he’d needed a portfolio manager for no longer seemed so urgent, and she feared he was about to give up and return in the morning when he had other options that weren’t quite so female.

  “I guess you were looking for a portfolio manager with a Y chromosome.” Jack’s breath caught as she realized she’d said the words out loud. Oh, so what? He wasn’t going to give her a chance anyway, and at least she’d been able to vent some of the frustration that had been building since being asked to cover the phones.

  Instead of anger, a thoughtful look passed over the man’s features. “Actually, you might be the right person for this job, after all. God knows whoever does it will need some balls.”

  “You do see the irony of that statement, right?” Jack snorted, but Andrew simply blinked, looking perplexed. Yeah, not the genius of the family. “What sort of job are you talking about?”

  “Laurie Emerson’s putting together a proposal for a prospective client.”

  “The Laurie Emerson?” Jack’s pulse quickened at the news. “You mean, she’s back?”

  Andrew nodded. “Have you worked with her before?”

  “I’ve never even seen her,” Jack replied. Ms. Emerson had gone on leave shortly before Jack was hired, but her name lived on in company lore. “I hear she eats portfolio managers for breakfast.”

  “There’s truth to that rumor.” Andrew gave her a long look, doubt clouding his eyes. “Maybe I should come back in the morning and see who else is here, someone more seasoned.”

  “The hell you will.” This time, Jack’s breath didn’t just catch. Her lungs stopped functioning completely. Did I really say that? But it seemed to have been the correct response because Andrew started to laugh.