Jesus. Why couldn’t I remember anything after we ordered? Why couldn’t I forget the look in Gary’s eyes, and that demented half grin on his face?
“Don’t curse,” was all I managed to say before plopping my head back down on the pillow and shutting my eyes.
“Sam!” I peeled my eyes open and sprang up. “We missed Lucas’s birthday!”
“No, you missed Lucas’s birthday,” he said dryly. “I had a blast.”
“Why didn’t you wake me?” I had promised Sam’s nephew I would be there, and I had sent Anna to four different toy stores to pick out his present.
“I assure you, I tried.” He looked at me. “I saved you a fucking slice of cake.” I had two choices, I realized then. I could ignore him and weather his mood for the next however many hours or days. Or I could change his mood entirely.
My lips curled into a smile. “You think you’re the only one who can curse?” I asked. I bit my lower lip. He watched me, taking in my tone, his body tensing as he registered it. Even after all our years together, he always wanted me. Always. No matter how mad he was. I let the sheets fall farther down my body.
“What are you talking about?” he said mechanically.
“I can curse,” I said. I stood up on the bed, fanning my fingers out to steady myself and counterbalance the wooziness. I towered over him, and he looked up at me. My thighs didn’t touch each other now when I stood with my feet together. As much as I had him pegged as somebody who cared less about physical appearance than most men, Sam seemed to appreciate the view of my shrinking frame. He tugged at the inseam of his pants as he shifted his stance to make room.
“I want you to fuck the shit out of me,” I said, and his jaw dropped slightly. I laughed from my belly, and before I knew it, he had tackled me onto the bed. He flipped me over in one fluid motion and tore my underwear down. He was on top of me before I figured out exactly where the ceiling and floor were.
I embraced my luscious lightheadedness and the grogginess from the fifteen hours of sleep. It felt like drunk sex, the kind we had when we first met, and it was exactly what I wanted. He yanked at my hair and bit my upper back below my shoulder. As the shock of it dissolved, the pleasure returned, not in place of the pain but right alongside it. I whimpered, encouraging him, and he clamped his hand over my lips to silence me. When he lost his grip on my face to his own pleasure, I managed to get one of his fingers into my mouth. He moaned again despite himself.
We stared up at the ceiling, breathing heavily, before I burst out laughing again.
“Holy shit,” Sam breathed as he patted my thigh. I rolled into him and nuzzled into his neck.
“I’m so mad I blacked out my chicken!” I said, staring at the ceiling.
“Don’t be. You kept saying it tasted like nothing. You kept shaking your head and salting it and saying it had no flavor. You announced it to the people at the next table. You told the waiter it was a rip-off.”
I searched his face to see if he was joking. He wasn’t.
I arched my back and laughed again, and he joined me this time, letting go of our argument.
My spine relaxed into the plush mattress. “Last night when I went to the bathroom I ran into a client,” I said, staring up at the ceiling. “He didn’t even recognize me. And he hit on me. It was so weird.”
Sam turned to me, and I saw a flash of jealousy darken his eyes before he shrugged. “Can’t blame the guy.” He smiled and kissed my cheek. I shivered slightly at the memory of Gary’s face and turned into Sam, resting my head on his shoulder and my hand on his chest, relishing his warmth.
“Let’s just stay here awhile,” he whispered.
“Where?”
“Here.” He looked over at me. “In bed.”
As soon as he said it, I thought of everything I had to do, and my heart quickened. I have a job. I can’t spend entire days in bed anymore. I forced a smile back his way and nodded, trying to deny the tingling in my fingertips. I just closed a deal. It’s fine. It’s Saturday. Nobody is emailing me anything urgent today. My mind flashed with the thought of an email from Matt in my in-box going unanswered.
“Babe?” I said, forcing sleepiness into my voice despite the tension in my throat. “I need coffee.”
“I’ll make you some.” He kissed the top of my head and rolled away from me.
As soon as he exited the room I lunged for my phone, which was mercifully next to the bed. It was on 2 percent battery, so I plugged it in and scanned my in-box frantically, knowing I didn’t have much time.
None of them were urgent, but I chimed in on a chain with Matt and Jordan just to indicate that I was diligently checking in on a weekend. My phone was facedown by the time Sam handed me a cup of coffee, and I sipped slowly at the warm energy rush, light with the milk I knew he objected to, exactly how I wanted it.
“How do you feel about my eating cake for breakfast?” I asked sheepishly.
Sam smiled broadly as he drew his other hand from behind his back and revealed a plate of pillowy white cake with a thick brim of white frosting, dotted with something bright green and black with brown lines. He had gotten me a good piece even though he was mad. I put my coffee on the nightstand and reached for the plate.
“Ninja Turtles?” I asked, shoving a large forkful of icing into my mouth.
Sam slid back into bed beside me. “Yeah! I got you Donatello.”
“Aw babe! You spoil me.”
“Let me see your tongue,” he said, sounding serious.
I stuck it out at him. “Green?” I managed and suddenly felt his tongue on mine. I put down the plate and fell into his kiss.
Part III
Indication of Interest (IOI)
An expression showing conditional and nonbinding interest in engaging in the purchase or sale of a company.
Q.I’d like to backtrack to your relationships with colleagues to get a sense of your working relationships more generally.
A.I don’t see how my relationships with other people are relevant here. I already explained that at Klasko, socializing is common with both colleagues and clients. My colleagues at Klasko were also my friends.
Q.You’re right that it wouldn’t be relevant at trial, but it’s helpful for us in figuring out what information to gather from whom.
A.Fair enough. What do you want to know?
Q.Please expound on both your professional and personal relationships with your colleagues Matt Jaskel, Jordan Sellar, Peter Dunn, and Vivienne White, as well as your client Didier Laurent. Please focus on encounters outside of the office, while observing your obligations of privilege, of course.
A.Life as a young associate is all-consuming. Often my personal life bled into my professional life in the areas of client events and entertainment.
Q.That’s precisely what we’re interested in.
Chapter 10
I walked through the parting automatic doors of the twenty-four-hour Duane Reade right next to my apartment, took a few steps onto the white linoleum floor, squinted into the fluorescent lights that stung the backs of my eyes, and stopped in my tracks. Why was I even there? I had headed there on a mission, but the errand I needed to do had left my brain entirely. It was already eleven at night, but it was my first time leaving the office before midnight in the past ten days.