They stand there, each waiting for the other to blink. Officer Middlebury turns so slowly it’s totally another power move—a display the officer doesn’t need to make because Mallory’s fucked. Because of Heidi Hoffman, because her mom had that damn freezer, because Mallory didn’t listen to Ilena and report Grayson’s death when she woke up in his penthouse. Christ, why didn’t she? Because whatever the truth is, itwouldhave been easier to spin it as an accident then.
Mallory watches the officer stroll to her car and is about to turn away herself when the officer pivots, her eyes floating to Mallory’s forearm. “You never told me.”
Mallory stills. “Told you what?”
“The breed?”
“Cockapoo.”
“Cute. Unlike that.” The officer gestures to the front walk. “Fifty dollar fine for not curbing your dog.”
“I’ll be sure to—”
“Just be careful. Wouldn’t want to wrinkle that dress.”
27
Mallory
The Dayofthe Outing
Mallory could barely move among the wrinkle-free, tastefully tattooed bodies flocking to her at the AIM summer outing. She scanned the crowd for Grayson, widening her freshly glossed lips into a welcoming smile to hide the anger and desperation making her heart pound. She hated him. (She did. But also, she didn’t.)
“Ooh, arethose alpaca?”
“Ms. Latham, can we take a group selfie?”
“With the alpaca?”
Mallory strolled past the life-size tic-tac-toe and led the new interns to the pen of farm animals she already regretted saying yes to. It was the smell. Like being inside a dead whale that gorged itself on Limburger cheese. She angled her head to mask the whisper of a double chin as selfies were snapped before resuming her search for Grayson.
The lawn was full of employees buoyed by the news of AIM’s valuation reaching an all-time high: two point two billion. Three months ago, it’d been one point seven. The jump wasn’t unprecedented, but it was rare; it marked AIM as a force. It hadprimed her, Ilena, and Aubrey for the windfall that Mallory had always known was possible. She’d thought it was her doing, her steering of AIM, but it hadn’t been her at all.
It had been Grayson, manipulating Mallory for the past year. From that first night after the kickoff party for “How Wide’s My Smile,” when he’d made her feel like going public was a brilliant idea, second only to falling into his bed. To the night six months later when he’d suggested over French 75s that a direct listing might be more lucrative for them professionally and her spending three nights at the penthouse more rewarding personally. To the stolen moments in AIM’s offices, to sneaking around like teenagers, not even letting Ilena and Aubrey know. To late nights that weren’t always just about sex, something that had surprised (and terrified) Mallory most of all.
She hadn’t fallen for him. (But she had. She completely and totally had.)
Patience, Grayson had that, but also the expertise. He’d choreographed each piece of the puzzle, setting the last one into place by inflating the stock price. He’d ensured the “unprecedented” and “game-changing” increase in users knowing the industry would go wild over it. The kicker was, AIMhad beenbooming. AIM had been on track to become what it was now. Grayson and his glitch only accelerated it, Mallory was sure of that. Why hadn’t he been? Why hadn’t he trusted AIM? Trusted her?
Fucking Grayson—arrogant, egomaniacal Grayson. A simmering in her veins surged as one of AIM’s early investors sauntered over, belly testing the limits of his buttoned Tom Ford blazer. Mallory fought her cringe as this man with a ludicrous combover kissed each of her cheeks and placed a hand on her waist.
She backed up. Her heels crunched the shells beneath her feet, and for a second, she pictured it: Grayson’s funeral insteadof Ethan’s. A rush of nausea hit her. Neither of them deserved it, though if one of them did, it was Grayson. If only for Aubrey’s sake.
Mallory excused herself with a flash of the smile that had closed more rounds of funding than she could count. The server heading her way was a gift from the universe. Mallory snagged a glass of sparkling wine, catching sight of Aubrey. She came. Good. Because, seriously? Fuck Ethan. And fuck the woman with the white coat that Mallory was sure he’d been cheating on Aubrey with or had been about to cheat on Aubrey with.
Mallory raised her glass and issued a heartfelt smile.
“Why, thank you,” Grayson said, startling her.
“That wasn’t for you.” She meant to say it playfully, but for once, she couldn’t pretend.
Grayson had played her so well that if it hadn’t happened to Mallory and to AIM, she might have even offered her congratulations.
She steeled herself for the confrontation to come. “I know about the accounts,” she said, her breath heavy under her words.
His head tilted, and he started to reach for her, but pulled back at the fury in her eyes. “Whatever this conversation is, let’s have it somewhere else.”
“As in ‘not here’? Does that mean we should leave? Your call, as always.” She paraphrased the words she’d overheard in his penthouse weeks ago, the ones that had followed “suspicious accounts,” the same day she had discovered the error.
