For Your Love

is keyboard, the glow of three monitors casting shadows across his exhausted face. The digital clock in the corner of his screen b

rom the doorway, sharp as

hard Langley, his direct supervisor. The man's cologne-someth

rolling his stiff shoulders. His dress shirt clung to his back

ent light. "You know these reports don't need to be perfect, right? J

ninety-hour weeks. Six years watching less competent men climb past h

ugh work," he

ay while Carlton's kids are at his Hamptons estate." He tapped a manicured finger against Henry's frame

himself to exhale. The rain intensified, drumming against the glass lik

as he always did. The security guard-Miguel, according to his nametag-barely glanced u

leaving only the desperate and the determined. Henry turned up the collar of his thrift-store tre

of 52nd and Madison

ythmic distress. A chauffeur in full livery argued with a traffic officer while gesturing wildly at a flat rear tyre.

with the unconscious grace of old money. Her hair, the colour of wheat at harvest,, was piled in an artful cascade of curls that defied the humidi

alked right past i

tsunami of gutter water directly toward the woman. Henry moved without thought, lungi

rough his clothing instantly, the stench of urban runoff filling

eats, there was

h society, but a full-throated, unguarded soun

eyes were the exact shade of emeralds in Cartier's window display.

ng out his tie with what dignity he

row. "Have you now?" Extending a glov

cals. As in the 17th richest family in America according to last year's Forbes

ddenly hyperaware of his fraye

me, Henry Jansen, do you make a ha

ut to be splashed by c

"Then I insist on buying you a drink. Marcus?" The chauffeur material

is goddess frequented-but she was already sliding into the Bentley's supple leather i

s, the way her collarbones formed a perfect cupid's bow above the neckline of her dress. She studied him with equal intensity, her gaze lingering

through midtown, "what brings a m

fened. "Ho

Also, you have that particular aura of exhausted ambi

y stung. "I

he rain-streaked window painting gold stre

escript awning in Tribeca. The bouncer mountain of a man i

k. Your usual

a dozen languages, and finally, the visual splendour of crystal chandeliers refracting light across mahogany panelling. Every detail whi

eir progress through the room, curious, others openly envious. Lolita glided past them all, her han

its curves like diamonds. Lolita dismissed the waiter with a glance

," she said, clinking

isp and expensive. He'd never tasted anythin

forward, resting her chin on one palm.

aught him off gu

t real thought in y

ondering how many bottles of this champagn

an." She refilled his glass. "Now tell me why someone with yo

of his flute. "You as

see it." Her gaze sharpened. "You're not like the

ng making Henry lightheaded. "And

on." She smiled, slow and knowin