Hard Sell (21 Wall Street)

by Lauren Layne

  “He’s suggested no fewer than ten times that we make it an early night, but I’ve told him we have to stay at least as long as it took me to find the dress and get ready tonight, so he’s stuck here for another hour or two.”

  “Well, well, don’t you two clean up nice.”

  Lara and I turn, letting out twin gasps when we see Kate.

  She’s always pretty, but she seems somehow transformed tonight. Her usually straight, thick hair’s been pulled into an elegant chignon to show off her petite features, and the dress is just about the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

  The skirt’s full and wide, which emphasizes her tiny waist, but it’s really the bodice that steals the show. Tightly fitted to her tiny frame, the black satin alternating with black lace reveals glimpses of skin through the fabric. The effect is a combination of demure and seductive, and perfectly her.

  “Thanks again for the assist,” Kate tells me. “Your girl worked wonders.”

  “Let’s not give her too much credit,” I say. “She had an excellent muse to work with.”

  Kate blows me a kiss in acknowledgment. “So are we having fun?”

  “We will be once Ian gets done making the rounds talking shop,” Lara says, faking a small yawn. “I don’t know how you guys get used to these fancy things.”

  “Truthfully, getting ready is the best part,” Kate says.

  “No, taking off the strapless bra at the end of the night is the best part,” I correct.

  “This backless dress didn’t allow one of those, but not to worry, I have Spanx to punish me. Ian doesn’t know what sweet, sexy surprise awaits.” She surreptitiously snaps the waistband of said Spanx for emphasis.

  I smile into my champagne, absolutely confident that Ian’s not going to be the least bit deterred by Lara’s shape wear. The woman could put on a dress made of dead leaves, and he’d still be crazy for her.

  “Speaking of, anyone want to keep me company while I go to the ladies’ room? The Spanx add five minutes to the peeing process, and I need someone to talk me through it over the stall wall.”

  “I’m game,” Kate says, reaching out and taking my champagne, tossing it back. “It’s not like I have a date.”

  “Yeah, why is that?” I ask. “Anybody looking like you shouldn’t be alone.”

  Kate doesn’t reply, but her eyes flick across the room. I follow her gaze, which is locked on Kennedy and his mannequin.

  Oh, Kate.

  I wish I could help with whatever it is she feels for Kennedy, but I don’t know how much use I’d be. I can barely get a grasp on my own love life.

  “Guys. My bladder?” Lara says, doing an awkward shuffle.

  “Right. On it.”

  Yet another Wall Street bigwig has captured Jarod’s attention, so I catch his eye and, after gesturing toward the girls, point in the direction of the ladies’ room.

  He gives a quick nod of acknowledgment.

  Kate, Lara, and I are nearly to the hallway leading to the restrooms when someone steps directly into our path.

  I blink a little in surprise, then smile when I realize it’s a familiar face. “Dana, hi! I didn’t realize you were coming here tonight.”

  “Yeah, well . . .” The tall, sharp-featured reporter gives a quick smile. “The news never sleeps.”

  Dana Keller’s hair is red tonight, though I’ve also seen it black, blonde, silver, and just about every other color. The red suits her, though, as does her emerald gown.

  “You’re giving off a very Poison Ivy look tonight. I like it.”

  Generally speaking, I tolerate the media more than I actually enjoy them. They serve their purpose, and I know how to make them serve my purpose. But Dana and I go way back, and she’s a journalist I actually like. She draws a hard line in the sand when it comes to reporting the facts and only the facts, so she’s not one of my more easily manipulated contacts, but that only makes me respect her more.

  I’m so surprised to see her at a fancy-pants event that I don’t register the standard reporter notebook in her hand until it’s too late.

  She gives me a quick smile of apology, which makes my heart beat in overdrive panic. Dana Keller doesn’t do apologies.

  “Ms. Cross, is it true that you and Matt Cannon have been seeing each other?”

  “What?” God, no, please. I am not strong enough to be bombarded with this right now.

  “Dana—”

  She interrupts, making no effort to keep her voice down, and several people look our way. “You’ve been seen on multiple occasions sharing meals, drinks, even shopping. Is it safe to assume those were dates?”

  I quickly glance at Lara and Kate, but instead of looking horrified by Dana’s ambush, they seem almost nervously excited. Traitors.

  I try to move around the reporter, even as the crowd surrounding us grows more curious. “Dana. Please. Can we not do this right now?”

  “There have even been reports that you’re engaged. Can you confirm?”

  “I can confirm that we’re not,” I snap. Then I frown as I realize she hasn’t written down a single word. For that matter, Dana Keller would never conduct an interview without her ever-present recorder, which is nowhere in sight.

  “And yet, several sources confirm that Mr. Cannon went ring shopping.”

  I refuse to show how much the questions sting. How much they remind me of what I won’t have. “Your sources were wrong. Matt Cannon and I were seeing each other for a brief time, but the relationship has run its course. Now if you’ll excuse me . . .”

  I start to push around Dana, making a mental note to put her on my shit list until the end of time, when a male voice speaks out.

  “Actually, the sources weren’t wrong.”

  I whirl around, my heart pounding at the sound of Matt’s voice, my breath catching at the sight of him. Why, even when I’m determined to hate him, does he have to look so perfect?

  So perfect for me.

  He looks amazing in his tuxedo, but that’s not even the part that gets me. It’s the familiar line of his jaw, the playful tilt of his smile, the warmth in his eyes . . .

  I shake my head to snap out of my daze. “What are you talking about? What sources?”

  “The sources that said I was ring shopping. Not wrong.”

  I’m not sure I’ve been speechless in my entire life, but I am now, stunned down to my very core.

  Convinced I’m in a dream, I glance at Lara and Kate, who are smiling, albeit nervously. Ian is whispering to Dana Keller, and I can’t hear what they’re saying, but I read thank you on Ian’s lips. That’s when I belatedly realize exactly what’s happening here.

  I’ve been set up.

  Lara’s no longer desperate to get to the bathroom. Dana stuffs her untouched notebook back into her evening bag before shaking Ian’s hand and then Kennedy’s, who’s appeared on her other side.

  They planned this. How did I not see it coming? Me, the one who taught them everything they know about a proper setup. Damn. They did good. Really good.

  But why?

  Matt takes a step toward me, his smile gone, his expression shifting from playful to intense.

  “What are you doing?” I whisper.

  Without breaking my gaze, he reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a teal Tiffany box, flicks it open with his thumb. The ring is huge, sparkling, and perfect.

  “You said you wanted a Tiffany cut, but if that was hypothetical or you’ve changed your mind, we’ll get you a new one.”

  My hand goes to my heart. “What? What are you—”

  Before I can finish my sentence, he calmly and unapologetically drops to one knee. “Sabrina Cross . . .”

  I hear someone sob. Probably Lara. Or Kate. Maybe both.

  Then I realize it’s me. I’m crying.

  “Don’t you dare tell me it’s too soon,” Matt continues. “Don’t tell me we’ve just started dating, because that’s bullshit and you know it.”

  “Very romantic,” Kennedy mutters from
behind me, and I let out a little laugh, because it’s so us. Only Matt’s proposal would include profanity. Only his proposal to me.

  And yet . . .

  “You don’t want to marry me, Matt,” I whisper. “You don’t believe in love.”

  He flicks the wrist holding the ring box in the general vicinity of the ground. “I’m kneeling on the floor in a tux, Cross. I’m pretty sure I want to get married.”

  Not good enough. I lift my chin defiantly, wanting it all. “Why?”

  Matt smiles confidently, but before he can answer, another man in a tuxedo appears in our periphery.

  “Hey, Lanham.” Matt doesn’t even look his way as he says it, all his attention on me.

  I glance nervously toward Jarod, expecting him to be irate, but there’s an almost triumphant look on his face as he takes in the scene in front of him.

  “Not sure your proposing to my date is the best way to get my business,” Jarod says, crossing his arms.

  “I don’t want your business,” Matt says without hesitation.

  “What?” I ask, my gaze swinging back to Matt.

  Jarod says nothing.

  “Kennedy will take you on.” Matt says in an indifferent tone.

  “Damn coin toss,” I hear Ian mutter. Lara rubs his shoulder soothingly.

  I shake my head in confusion. “You’re giving up a multibillion-dollar account—”

  “I’d give up everything for you. Every client, every last dollar.”

  “Matt,” I whisper. “You’ve always wanted—”

  “You. I’ve always wanted you. That much I’ve known for a long time, but what I didn’t know until this week was that I loved you. I love you, Sabrina. Please, for the love of God, tell me it’s not too late.”

  My tears are falling in earnest now. Kate sneaks forward to stuff a tissue into my hand before quickly scooting back.

  I dab at my eyes, trying to clean up the worst of the mascara mess. “Will you please stand up? You look ridiculous.”

  He does as I ask, closing the distance between us and slipping his free hand around my back. “Say yes,” he whispers in my ear. “Please say yes.”

  Like there was ever a choice. There’s never been any choice but him.

  I hold out my left hand. “Put that ring on my finger.”

  He lets out a little laugh, his head falling forward in relief. When his head lifts again, his eyes are darker blue and shining with unshed tears. “You still want me?” he asks roughly.

  I smile and wiggle my finger.

  “Sabrina.” His voice is urgent now. Nearly begging.

  I smile and kiss his chin. “Hell yes, I want you. I love you, Matt Cannon.”

  He pulls the ring out of the box, and the second he slides it onto my finger, he kisses me, hard and fast and completely unapologetic for the fact that we’re basically making out in public.

  I kiss him back, wonderfully aware of the weight of the ring on my finger, the applause of our friends in the background, but mostly aware of him.

  “You know what I think?” he whispers, pulling back.

  “Hmm?” I ask happily.

  He smiles. “We’re going to rock the hell out of this happily-ever-after business.”

  I pull his head down for another kiss. Count on it.

  EPILOGUE

  SABRINA

  Three Months Later, January

  “Four babies. Final offer.”

  I drop olives into my martini and add a twist to Matt’s. “You do realize you’re negotiating with yourself, right? I haven’t issued a single counteroffer.”

  He comes up beside me, wrapping an arm around my waist as he lifts his cocktail. “Three babies.”

  I tap his chest with a fingernail. “Maybe you should wait until we’ve been married more than three weeks before suggesting three babies.”

  “Actually, I take it back,” he muses. “I’m going back to four. Four kids.”

  I laugh. “How about enjoying cocktails as newlyweds before we skip straight to the procreation bit?”

  “Deal,” he says, brushing a kiss against my lips.

  I wind my free arm around his back, kissing him with every ounce of besotted newlywed passion coursing through my body.

  Which is a lot.

  Despite my suggestion that we let Ian and Lara tie the knot first, Matt declared me too much of a flight risk.

  We were married on New Year’s Eve in a quiet ceremony at the place where it all began . . . sort of.

  Las Vegas.

  This time there were no strippers, no lurking journalists. Just close friends. Matt’s parents were there as well, plus Felicia. And though Matt rolled his eyes, I don’t think the atypical family showing bothered him as much as it might have a few months ago.

  If we’ve taught each other anything, it’s that we’re both too stubborn and strong-willed to let other people’s bad choices dictate our lives any longer.

  I’d invited my mother. She hadn’t come, and I was relieved. So, I wasn’t blessed with a great mom. Or even a good one. It doesn’t matter anymore. I have Ian. I have Lara and Kate, and even Kennedy, in his crusty old way. I have a dozen other good friends who I know I can call whenever I need anything.

  Another surprise addition to our friendship circle? Jarod Lanham. He gave Matt his business after all. Turns out his whole plan to take me to the gala was a test of sorts, to assess Matt’s character. At least that’s his claim. Matt insists he’s just trying to save his pride, but I’m not so sure. Jarod’s taken to calling himself our rich, manly matchmaker, and I think he just might be right. For that matter, the whole group played the matchmaker role of sorts.

  I’m grateful. I’m grateful for everyone and everything that led me to this moment. That’s led me to Matt.

  He’s everything I need that I didn’t know I wanted.

  Well, almost.

  I pull back from the kiss and smile up at him. “Two babies. Final offer. And I want to be married for at least a year.”

  He grins. “I’ll take that offer on one condition.”

  I sip my drink. “What’s that?”

  He waggles his eyebrows and takes my drink from my hand, setting it aside. “We get lots of practice before the year is up.”

  “Deal,” I say with a laugh, letting him scoop me up and carry me to the bedroom.

  I’ll be honest, I sort of want three or four babies myself. But no need to concede the game just yet.

  Matt and I may be wildly in love, but we’re also still us.

  And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Dear friends,

  Thanks so much for reading Hard Sell! I hope you enjoyed Matt and Sabrina’s book! Theirs was a special sort of love story. When I first conceived of the 21 Wall Street series, I knew that I wanted to include a “longtime enemies turned lovers” type of story. All through Book One (Hot Asset), I thought Matt and Sabrina were that story. And they were, in a way, but when I started writing the book, something different developed than what I’d originally intended.

  They’re enemies, yes, in that they bicker. And they have some messy history. But as I got to know Matt and Sabrina a bit better during the first draft, I discovered something delightful: they were also friends. Friends and enemies. So I let them evolve on the page their way, and when I finished, I realized that I didn’t quite have the enemies-to-lovers story I’d originally envisioned. It was more of a frenemies-to-lovers story, which I think made it all the more special because their relationship was so unique and layered. I so hope you agree!

  If you’re new to the 21 Wall Street series, be sure to check out Hot Asset, which is Ian and Lara’s story. (A female SEC agent falling for the playboy suspect in a career-making insider-trading case? Heck yes!)

  As for Kennedy and Kate’s story . . . I can’t say. I don’t know yet. But I assure you, my fingers are crossed.

  In the meantime, be sure to check out my website (www.laurenlayne.com) for a full list of my
books!

  Happy reading,

  Lauren Layne

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thank you so much to my agent, Nicole Resciniti, who immediately, and without hesitation, got behind my vision of writing “hot Wall Street guys” and found the perfect home for it at Montlake Romance.

  I couldn’t be more grateful for the Montlake team, especially Maria Gomez, my fabulous editor, who’s an absolute delight to work with. To the cover design and marketing team, who blow me away with their vision and enthusiasm. To the production team and operation teams, who work tirelessly behind the scenes to turn a messy document into a flawless final product.

  And most especially, thank you to Kristi Yanta, my developmental editor, who I so often refer to as my “brain twin,” because she always understands what I’m trying to do, and quite often knows how to do it better than I ever imagine. I’m forever honored to have a place on your client list. I’m grateful to call you a friend as well as my editor and so appreciate that you’re always there for me whenever I need you (which, let’s face it . . . is often).

  Lastly, thank you to Lisa Filipe, my friends, family, and all my lovely readers. I don’t thank you all nearly enough for the quiet support that’s so very much appreciated.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Photo © 2016 Anthony LeDonne

  Lauren Layne is the New York Times bestselling author of more than two dozen romantic comedies, including Hot Asset, her first book in the 21 Wall Street series. A former e-commerce and web marketing manager from Seattle, Lauren relocated to New York City to pursue a full-time writing career, hitting the USA Today, New York Times, iBooks, and Amazon bestseller lists. Visit the author at www.laurenlayne.com.