“You have a whole work life I never knew about,” Sam whispered, touching my waist softly.

In his unwitting acknowledgment that I was leading a double life, the rush of keeping a secret from the man who thought he knew me so well almost made me convulse in pleasure. Something was really wrong with me. I knew I should have felt guilty, but I was too keyed up from the evening to feel anything but mouthwateringly, imperfectly human. I could only respond, “I know.”

Sam’s breath deepened as he drifted off, while I stared up at the ceiling, my heart beating wildly, willing myself to remain still for the remainder of the night.

Q. What do you think most motivated you to want to be a partner in the M&A group?

A. I don’t think I really thought about becoming a partner at Klasko when I was a first-year.

Q. What motivated you to want to join M&A as an associate, then, if the hours were worse than those in other groups?

A. I think I was probably most motivated by the prestige. M&A was the most well respected group at the firm. I think I’ve always been driven to be the best at whatever it is I do.

Q. Did you have law school loans?

A. No, I was fortunate enough not to.

Q. Did financial compensation motivate you to want to join M&A?

A. Not initially, no. I don’t think so.

Q. But eventually?

A. I think M&A attorneys are better compensated because they bring in more revenue. They work longer hours. Their work is more difficult. So the compensation is all wrapped up in the question of prestige, in my mind.

Chapter 16

The morning after the Winter Ball, I opened my eyes when I felt the room brighten in the sun. Though I hadn’t actually slept, I welcomed the morning, feeling firm in my conviction that what had happened between Peter and me could never and would never be repeated, and that I would never, ever tell Sam about it. It would serve no purpose but to hurt him. It seemed fair that I be the only one to suffer.

“That party was amazing. What do you think it cost? I can’t even imagine, with the open bar and all that food. Must have been fifty thousand.” Sam turned over to me, still under the covers. I stared back at him and nodded. He has absolutely zero idea what things cost, I thought. It was at least five times that.

“It was really nice,” I agreed.

“Nice? It was awesome!? I had no idea it was going to be like that when you invited me.” Sam paused. “I could get used to being your hot date at all the firm functions.”

I reached for my phone and scanned my in-box. When I reached the bottom of my unread messages I scrolled up yet again, hoping I had missed one from Peter, but I didn’t have a single email from him, not even one about our deal. Hurt and relief crashed into each other inside my chest. Was it a onetime thing for him? That’s good. It can’t happen again anyway. It’s best that we don’t acknowledge it and move on.

Sam suddenly sat up next to me. “Hey, it’s bonus day!” I watched him carefully, his newfound exuberance for the finer things in life exacerbating my headache. Suddenly, you don’t hate my job so much, do you?

I grabbed my phone and logged on to my checking account.

“Holy shit,” I whispered, my hangover dissolving instantly.

“Good?”

I nodded over at him, wide-eyed. I couldn’t push away the feeling that the universe had not only let me escape the repercussions of my mistake but had actually rewarded me for it. My checking balance seemed like a justification of everything I had done while at Klasko so far. Everything.

“Good. You’ve been working so hard. You deserve it.”

I had been working hard, but I didn’t think that alone was enough to warrant $50,000. After taxes! As I stared again at the number, the screen went blank and flashed “Carmen Greyson.”

“Hi!”

“Hi!” We both burst out laughing. “Holy shit!” I threw off the covers and hoisted myself out of bed.

“Right? Holy shit! I love M&A!” Carmen yelled, and we dissolved into giggles again.

“Are you busy today?” Carmen asked.

“I feel like it’s all died down pre-Christmas. I’m pretty slow,” I said, scanning through my emails to confirm that no meeting requests or emergencies had come in overnight.

“Me too! So slow.” She paused. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

I’m thinking that I’m going to take Matt’s advice and go on a $12,500 shopping spree.

“Bloomingdale’s?” I asked.

“Fuck Bloomingdale’s. We’re going to Bergdorf’s!” she squealed.

As I stood on Fifth Avenue, I had to fight the urge to grab the door handle from the suited doorman just inside the building and fling it open before he could.

“Welcome to Bergdorf’s. Can I direct—”

“ALEX!” Carmen sprang out from behind a wall of sunglasses. I darted past the doorman and into her embrace. “Can you believe how generous they were? Thirty thousand dollars!” she whispered into my ear. I felt a pang of guilt, but a surge of pride. I got a better bonus than Carmen. Unless she was lying about her number. She pulled away from me, and I saw her wild grin. I’d gotten a bigger bonus. For sure.

I drifted toward a gray crocodile satchel sitting on the display counter and picked it up with both hands. “This bag is amazing.”

“It’s to die for!” she exclaimed.

“I’m going to get it!” I peeped inside the bag, pulled out the price tag, and gasped, my resolve vanishing instantly. “Um, it’s twenty-four thousand dollars.” I looked up, expecting to see my shock mirrored in Carmen’s face.

“Of course it is. It’s a Moreau.” My stomach sank. I’d never imagined I wouldn’t be able to afford anything I wanted on this day. “Oh, cheer up. We can do bags next year!”

I placed it gently back down on the counter. “I’m never spending that much on a bag!”

Carmen shrugged. “This year’s bonus was our first. And it was prorated for a third of the year! You might be singing a different tune when you see next year’s. Never say never, young one!” It hadn’t occurred to me that the enormous bonus I had just received was only a fraction of what I’d receive in years to come if I continued to do M&A, and do it well. “I want to start with makeup!” she declared. “You can choose the next department.”

“You need to try this. It’s like butter.” Carmen met my gaze in the mirror she was staring into, her skin smooth and supple, with a dewiness maintaining a careful distance from shine. “It’s life-changing.”

“Wow. Your skin looks amazing. But I already have foundation.”

“Uh! Please!” She turned back to the mirror and patted her cheekbone with her finger. “What kind?” I refreshed my email for the fifth time since we’d hit the cosmetics department. Still nothing from Peter. Despite the Christmas music, the counter associate’s elf hat, and the bulging balance in my bank account, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had been used—dismissed by somebody whose attention I wasn’t even sure I wanted.

“Neutrogena. It matches my tone.”

Carmen shook her head. “Miss! Can you please find a foundation for my friend here?” From behind the glass-topped counter, a woman wearing elegant black eyeliner and peach lip gloss sprang to action, contemplating me briefly before giving a resolute nod and bending down to open a drawer. “This is Chanel!” Carmen stage-whispered at me. “Our hardworking skin deserves Chanel!”

My mind drifted back to the night before, grazing over the ballroom and the tartlets and stopping at following Peter out to his car. I knew, unequivocally, that I had made a mistake, but there was something about the ability to take money and make myself into an elegant, high-fashion version of myself that convinced me that money could cover up just about any error. I hoisted my Longchamp up on my shoulder. Peter’s wife was the type of woman who bought Moreaus—she probably had dozens of them in every color in clear drawers in a walk-in closet. I suddenly envied her. I envisioned her hosting dinner parties with Peter and their snobby friends at their house in Westchester. I pictured their quiet candlelit dinners at home, and the two of them sipping champagne in first class on a transatlantic flight. As I sat with these images going through my mind, I found myself wanting her life. Her rich, easy, sophisticated life.

The woman behind the counter reached toward me with a small beige cylinder boasting interlocking Cs. “Here, if you’d like to try it.” I blinked myself back to reality as she pumped a bit onto the back of my hand. I rubbed the silky flesh-toned liquid between my fingers before applying it to my cheeks, where it blended in effortlessly, obliterating any appearance of pores and giving me a sun-kissed glow even though I hadn’t seen the light of day in four months. I stared at my younger, healthier-looking self in the mirror.