re's

favorite story of the week. Marcus had told it to at least six different customers, each ret

g from the morning hadn't quite left her. She kept catching herself gla

ever

afternoon

ped out into the late afternoon chill, the sky

lk from the shop, in a part of Queens where the buildings were cl

reshman year of college, back when they were two broke

d across the secondhand couch with her laptop balance

e announced, dropping her bag by the door an

ut looking up. "Mrs. Alvarez com

e story, and by the time she got to the part where she poured the coffee

alf-laughing, half-horrified. "Cl

eath her bravado. "You should've heard the way he talked to me, Grace. Like I w

a jerk. But rich jerks in this city have a way of getting exactly what

don't care. He can go choke on his

because Grace had spent years trying to protect Claire the same way Claire had spent years protecting Grace, ever since a group of mean girls in freshman year had made Grace cry in a dorm bathroom a

'm saying. This is New York. Rich men with b

. "I poured coffee on a stranger, Grace, not signed a

idea how wr

ind his desk with his ruined suit jacket discarded over the back of a chair and a fresh cup of

inking about

hinking

ke the image of her standing there, arms cro

gized before they even knew what they'd done wrong. But she had poured scalding coffee on him withou

ave made hi

didn't have a name for yet, something that made him replay the moment ove

out a knock, which meant only one

Kenneth's desk with the easy confidence of someone who'd known him since they were both in diapers, m

th said flatly. "I was as

sleep." Hunter pulled ou

I am," Kenneth said sl

the richest men in New York." Hunter smirked. "Whic

dded quickly, seeing the look on Hunter's face. "I just ..." He stopped, frustrated at himself for n

eserved for reading people in business deals. "Ken. Are you telling me the great Kenn

ter absolutely clocked and would absolutely bring up again later. "I simply don't like being embarrasse

d, grinning now. "

beneath him, thinking about a coffee shop on the corner of Fifth and Lor

edule," he said finall

ned. "Oh, this is

office had emptied out, Kenneth stayed behind lo

at weekend ... the one where she would inevitably bring up marriage again, the Whitmore girl again

his own - a tech investment firm he'd started in secret during his last year of college, funded with nothing but a small loan and a stubborn refusal to fail. It had grown into something worth more than his own family's h

this m

ever needed to use it. It unsettled him in a way he didn't have language for yet. He was used to people performing for him, softening themselves around his

n anything, to know what i

eed the car, and walked out into the cold Manhattan night, already thinking about tomorrow morning, and t