Unexpectedly His(51)

Over the next several hours, Nick worked his way through the restricted access screens, checking the basics, delving deeper into the timing of a few lucrative trades in speculative securities. Nick wasn’t a criminal attorney, but from the looks of the files, he believed, Marianne’s ex had been the dirty trader in her father’s company. Now he wanted to move the profits into a hedge fund without drawing unwanted attention to his high-flying scores. And so he chose…Nick.

His fist hit the desk. Enjoy the carnival, my ass. The guy figured he’d play him. Nick Wright, Morgan Trust. I will definitely be in touch. Probably thought that with the engagement, Nick would be inclined to keep everything hush-hush, go along for the sake of male solidarity, take the money and run. Or maybe he figured the potential blow to Nick’s career would force him to dump Marianne, and he’d ride in to save her like some kind of white knight in fucking Bermudas. Oh yeah. With startling clarity, Nick dialed in on the dickhead’s intentions.#p#分页标题#e#

Too bad for the asshole that he’d failed to recognize Nick wasn’t some Hamptons-style player inclined to look the other way. Nick was a Brooklyn guy with an instinct for secrets and an inability to hang a friend out to dry.

But what the hell was Nick supposed to do with his suspicions? The financials revealed some well-timed spikes in profitability, but no concrete proof, no evidence. He’d come to the firm to buy into a fund. Nothing shady about that deal. If Nick revealed his reservations, it wouldn’t change the fact of John McBride’s incarceration. Ward was a client now, so the ethics of such a revelation were dicey. Not to mention that those ethics would sure as shit cost him the partnership. Dammit. He’d thought if he played his cards right, kept a low profile, there’d be no reason for his fiancée’s past to come back and bite him in the ass.

Obviously, he’d thought wrong.

Nick rose from his chair, strode over to the windows, and stared over at Brooklyn. He’d worked hard for a shot at having his name on the letterhead, but being with Marianne had made his work-centric life feel empty. The partnership issue wouldn’t even be on the table without her. But was he willing to blow his dream job and everything he struggled to build? For her? For her family? He ran a hand along his jawline. And if he was, could he honor that kind of commitment? Or was he just like his father, good for the short-term until it was time to run?

His mind raced ahead of him, full of questions without answers. He walked back to the desk, and his gaze sharpened on the screen. Damn, he hated puzzles.

But in that moment, two things hit him as powerfully as a combination of jabs: One, Nick was not his father. And, two, he knew what he needed to do.

…

Marianne walked past Radio City Music Hall with a grin on her face. Maybe it was the springtime, but her heart felt hopeful about the future. A future with Nick. Could she dare to hope for that much? She imagined afternoons in Central Park and summers at the beach, taking him to the holiday show come winter, ice skating at Rockefeller Center. Touristy stuff, hokey to some New Yorkers, but she loved Christmas in the city. Sharing that time with Nick would be a dream come true.

While their engagement was still temporary, Marianne believed there was a chance they’d last beyond the six weeks. Despite all the statistics of failed relationships, she wanted a passionate love, full of sexy times in the shower and nights of lovemaking that led to a blissful nine hours of sleep in the arms of her man. She wanted a marriage, a real marriage, and had decided to tell Nick she wanted to take “temporary” off the table.

Counselor, she practiced in a husky, internal whisper. I’d like to renegotiate our terms.

She understood there would be no guarantees, no promises, but she’d done a cost-benefit analysis of the situation and made her decision. Nick might not be ready. Might never be ready. But she needed to find out. Because, despite his rules and serial dating ways, Marianne believed the matrix was correct. Nick was her perfect match. Deep in her soul, she felt Nick believed it, too.

A breeze kicked up the hem of her white silk skirt as she crossed over Sixth Avenue toward his office, and she let the material float above her knees. Spring filled the air, a picnic basket swung from the crook of her elbow, and she was on the way to offer her fiancé an office quickie. No more playing only the good girl.

The weekend in the Hamptons proved to be a revelation. She’d spent her life exceeding expectations, but the expectations were hers, not her parents. She’d always assumed the life her parents wanted for her. Made judgments about them. She’d never known her mom and dad married in a shotgun wedding complete with a midnight exit down a fire escape and the disapproval of her family. Marianne wanted more than the standard, probable outcome, too. She wanted Nick.#p#分页标题#e#