My voice breaks. My body goes rigid.
Right there, at the top of my inbox, is a return e-mail from Blackwood Capital:Your application has been approved. Congratulations.
“What?” Cassi asks. She leans over my shoulder, glances at my phone screen, and gasps. “No way!”
“Can’t be…” I mutter.
My thumb hovers over the message. I’m desperate to see what’s inside, but I can’t bring myself to actually look. Thankfully, Cassi takes over for me and swipes it open herself.
There’s a single paragraph, and it’s short. I mouth the words, like even whispering them might shatter their reality.
Miss Briggs. Your application to Blackwood Capital has been approved. We believe you will be a perfect fit for the job. Attached is a digital contract for e-signature, along with a standard NDA.
A perfect fit. Me. No one hasevercalled me a perfect fit for anything.
My jaw drops, and I turn to Cassi in disbelief. “I got the job!”
“Babe, it’s been liketen minutes—”
“I know, right!?” The tears come up fast and hot, and I don’t even fight them. All I can see is my first paycheck and the look on my landlord’s face when I hand him a check.
I scroll and sign, my thumb moving on its own.
“Wait,” Cassi snaps, but it’s too late. I’ve sent the forms back. “Did you just sign that NDA without reading it?”
“Yeah?” I’m already up on my feet, nervous energy bubbling through me. “I’m sure it’s just standard stuff for a firm of their size.”
Cassi shakes her head at me, but I’m not listening. My heart feels like a bird in my chest, and I’m too busy leaping all over the room like a crazy hamster, celebrating the monumental shift my life’s about to take.
I see her filming me on her phone out of the corner of my eye, and I know this will probably end up on her Instagram, but I don’t care. I’m going to get my rent paid!
A perfect fit. Dominic Blackwood thinks I’m a perfect fit.
The warm feeling is taking over, low and secret, as I tell myself the job is all about the money.
Well…mostlyabout the money…
2
DOMINIC
I firedthree people before nine this morning.
Two new analysts that missed a position that would have netted fifty-five million for the fund and the one trader who lied to me about it.
The only reason we aren’t hemorrhaging cash is because I caught the mistake myself. Just like I catch everything because no one in this building works harder than me.
That’s how I built Blackwood Capital—on the strength of my back and the sharpness of my mind. I’m no trust fund kid. I didn’t catch a lucky break. I worked my ass off, sixteen hours a day, eliminating any and all distractions from my life.
No wife. No girlfriend. No attachments.
Women come and go through my life. Models at high-profile events, analysts who think fucking the boss is a viable career move, socialites who hear the word ‘billionaire’ and show up at the building with their tits out, looking for a taste of the fortune.
I use them when I need to, but I don’t remember any of them.
You might call that harsh. I call it efficient.
By eight-thirty, I’ve hit the gym and showered and am reviewing our overnight positions in my office when Marcuswalks in. He hands me a coffee and sets a tablet down in front of me.
