“Well, you’re no ordinary postdoc. We know that.” Vilmariglanced down to Lora’s hand, still wrapped around the cup. “What is that ring?”
“It was Ivo’s,” she said, looking down. She’d forgotten it was still on.
“It’s gigantic. Who has fingers that big?”
“My father. Apparently.”
Chapter 26
Andrea leaned back on the Bordeaux-red velvet banquette and gazed out the floor-to-ceiling windows that showcased the New York City skyline from the fiftieth floor of the Ritz-Carlton. The backlit onyx bar glowed to his right, as the beautiful people of Manhattan chatted over bespoke cocktails and caviar. Jason had ordered them a drink called a Foggy Hill, which he swore Andrea would love because it contained the Italian liqueurs CynarandAperol. Andrea read the description in the cocktail menu but got lost around “orange-thyme aromatic cloud” and figured he’d just stay quiet and have a sip. The drinks, of course, were not the point of the evening. The point was to let Jason go all in on trying to convince him that he should be back in New York.
He’d left London the day before, finally closing the door on the idea of working at his sister’s company. Nothing about London felt comfortable, though he had to admit that nothing had felt comfortable for the past few weeks in general. Carlawas disappointed, but had kept her scowling to a minimum, assuming that he was more interested in the offer from New York, which was the next destination on his job-opportunity crawl. The truth was that though he’d embarked on this trip thinking he was ready to consider a change, each passing day made him less and less committed to going through the motions. What was he looking for? Whatelsewas he looking for?
The day had been filled with a tour of the offices of Mortimer & Stone at the Spiral building at Hudson Yards. Walking through the foyer, Andrea felt like he’d been transported to another planet. There were no three-hundred-year-old tables and broken door handles, no stern assistants huffing disapproval in a corner, and no unexpected appearances of plumbing equipment before lunchtime. There was only Mortimer’s right-hand woman, Freja Almgren, giving him a breakdown of what had transpired since the reorganization and what his staff would look like. Despite modern upgrades and innovative initiatives, they still had some “legacyclients” haunting the roster. They were the old guard of businesses and families who’d grown skittish in a world not designed to preserve generational wealth on name alone. This, she explained, would be Andrea’s specialty: tending to a special division of conservative big fish who needed special care.
Jason had swooped in at 5:30 to pick him up, promising to be the fun part of the full-court press. He had stayed away from talking too much business at dinner at the chef’s counter of an exclusive Korean restaurant where the tasting menu, featuring ingredients like jellyfish and iced dashima, started at $400 per person. They mostly caught up on life, politics,and a little bit of gossip while watching the chef prepare their ten-course meal. But when they arrived at the rooftop bar for drinks, Jason didn’t hold back.
“Andre, you know I am not going to lie to you, man. We haven’t seen each other in a while, but nothing about me has changed. I wouldn’t ask you to come here if I thought it was a waste of your time.”
“I know that. And you know that I came here because I wanted to hear what you all had to say.” And he’d heard an earful today about how he was going to end up sucking up to the cranky snobs of the upper crust—mostly, anyway. And it was because they needed extra hand-holding from a face that didn’t look too different from their own. It was a scenario he hadn’t expected.
“Good. The way I see it is that the package Mortimer is offering is more than generous, and knowing you, it would be enough to set you up for life. I know how you are with your little stealth investments all over.”
“I’m practical. That hasn’t changed either.”
“Right. And we know that you have one more year on your term, which is crazy to me. I can’t believe you’re an actual mayor,” Jason said, laughing. The waiter approached the table with two large snifters containing a deep red liquid. He placed them down in front of them and held a conical Erlenmeyer flask filled with a white cloud of smoke above their heads.
“The aromatic cloud,” declared the waiter in a somber voice as he poured the smoke into the snifters. “Enjoy.” He nodded at them and ducked away as the herbal pouf rose up past their faces toward the golden chandeliers overhead.
Jason waited for the smoke to dissipate, then raised his glass to Andrea.
“What do you say? ‘Cent’anni’?”
“We can just say ‘cheers,’” said Andrea, clinking his glass to Jason’s.
“Shit, that’s good,” Jason said after taking a sip. He placed his glass back down on the table and continued. “So, the only question is, do you have other commitments in Italy that you can’t get out of once your term is up?”
“My family is there.” Andrea tasted the ruby-red concoction and tried not to wince at the mix of flavors that were too sweet and confusing to understand. “Well, my parents are there. My sister is still in London and my brother is in Boston. Apart from that, I have friends, of course.”
“Girlfriend? Or, wait—boyfriend?”
“Neither. I mean, I’m not seeing anyone.”
“That’s good! I don’t have to tell you how that’s going to be a benefit here,” Jason said, glancing around the lounge. The room seemed to be filled with the cast from an expensive perfume ad, and each person was more stunning than the last. On cue, a tall, dark brown-skinned woman with close-cropped hair and a rust-colored satin backless dress walked by their table, glancing down at both men.
“Jason, can I be honest with you?” Andrea leaned forward.
“Please. That’s what we’re here for,” he said, pulling his eyes from the woman. He set the weight of his elbows on the armrests of the plush club chair.
“I am exploring this option because I think it’s important that I don’t ignore it. I’ve found myself questioning my future,and I think it’s because I haven’t given myself the chance to look into other things. But I would not say that the only issue is what is or is not keeping me in Italy,” Andrea said, shaking his head. “Can we talk a little bit about the client roster? You didn’t tell me that I was going to be managing the billionaire vampires of America. Some of the people on that list are so old I thought they were dead already.”
“But those vampires are the biggest clients, my friend. All you have to do is keep them in the red stuff, and everybody’s happy. Besides, they’re not all old and terrible. I believe young Hammersley is on the list. Charles? Charlie. So, at least one of them is above dirt on a good day.”
“Charlie Hammersley? The lawyer?” Andrea asked.
“Yeah. You know him?”
“Not personally,” he said.He was not so kind, Lora had said. He’d give anything to hear what she’d say about this piece of information right now.
