“That she was having an affair with Jordan and had to tell me because the guilt was too much.”

I watched Jessica in feigned disbelief for a moment before I burst out laughing. She stared back at me. I covered my mouth but continued to force the laugher.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I went on. “I get why it’s so upsetting, but it’s just so ludicrous. Look, I’m basically with Jordan every second he’s not with you. I assure you, he doesn’t have the time to even talk to Nancy, even if he wanted to. Which he doesn’t. And if anything had happened, I’d know. And I’d tell you!” Jessica exhaled and wiped her cheeks. I leaned in more closely. “But you do need to be careful with her. She once spread a completely insane rumor that I was sleeping with a partner. It was nuts.” I paused and pretended to think before widening my eyes. “How does she have your number? Does she know where you guys live?”

Jessica’s eyes flashed nervously, and she looked over at Jordan.

“Babe, the doormen would never let her up to our place. It’s fine,” he reassured her. She nodded at him, and he looked like he might pass out from the release of tension.

“I actually have to get back to work—I’ve got an associate to train,” I said with an eye roll. “But don’t believe a word that girl says. Jordan would never. This place is like a shrine to you.”

I gestured at the one picture of her on his wall as I headed toward the door. He really should have more pictures up.

She smiled gratefully, and Jordan gave me a wave of approval and dismissal.

“Will you please close the door, Alex?” he asked calmly. I lingered for a moment outside his door and was relieved by the calm tones of the voices emanating from within, then heard a throat clearing and turned to see Jordan’s assistant watching me eavesdrop. I clenched my jaw and gave a small, sheepish laugh before disappearing down the hallway.

Hours later, when I’d finally gotten rid of Harold and was in the middle of drafting a letter of intent for the latest National acquisition, my phone rang.

“Hi,” I said, cradling the phone to my ear and checking that my door was shut. “Is everything . . . copacetic?”

“Yes.” He was quiet for another moment. “Thank you. I’m sorry to have put you in that—”

“You’re welcome,” I interrupted. “Anyway, you made me look super cool in front of this Harold character. I literally left him in my office in the middle of a sentence.”

Jordan snorted. “Turns out, you’re my phone call, Skip,” he said, his tone turning sincere.

I didn’t answer at first, relishing the words, not wanting to disturb them. I didn’t regret doing him the favor of saving his marriage, even if it meant betraying the girl code that had been drilled into me since preschool. But I didn’t want to think about it anymore. “I’m glad to hear it. Now let’s never ever discuss this again.”

Chapter 20

“I’m not sure that Sam fits into my life anymore now that I work here,” I confessed to Jordan as we sat cross-legged on his office floor and half-heartedly tossed cheese balls from a huge clear plastic tub into each other’s mouth. His only response was to shrug and toss another orange sphere toward me with his powdered fingers. I caught it in my mouth and grinned. It was three o’clock in the morning on closing day for the latest National acquisition, and we were waiting for final comments from the seller’s counsel.

“I don’t know how to talk to him about it. I don’t even have time to talk to him about it,” I continued. Jordan gave me a skeptical look. “What?”

“In my almost seven years here, I’ve found that this job is always a viable excuse. But it’s an excuse. People who are busy have just enough time for what they want to have time for. No more. No less.”

“So, you’re saying I don’t want to have time to talk to him?”

“Exactly.” He stared at me for a moment as I contemplated arguing with him. “We spent two hours fucking around in my office before we ordered dinner. You know, if you asked me, I’d cover for you if you wanted to go home and have dinner with Sam. Not every night, but if it was important to you, every once in a while.”

I nodded. He had a point. But I liked being here with Jordan. I liked being at work more than being at home. Was that so bad? Didn’t lots of people do that?

“Okay, Skip. I’m going to try to catch a few hours. Can you cover me?” We both stood up. I felt like my legs might not support me.

“Fuck! I’m so tired! Up! Please?”

Jordan took a vial out of his desk drawer. “You know, Skip, I think it’s time you start buying your own.”

My heart sank. Did I do coke often enough to have to buy my own? “That’s what I have you for! I only do it with you anyway.” I bent low to his desk as I snorted, trying to erase the feeling that I needed the white powder to make it through the night.

While Jordan took a nap in the restoration room, I cleaned every crevice of my office using a Q-tip dipped in Windex. I was taking an air duster to my computer keyboard at four o’clock in the morning when the draft from opposing counsel dinged into our in-boxes. With my knees bouncing wildly under my desk, I took a first stab at comments and turned in changes before Jordan woke up. I flipped the draft to Jordan by ten in the morning and tackled a few more mundane tasks for my other two active matters before losing steam around two in the afternoon, when I passed out, spread-eagle on my stomach, in the middle of my office floor. When Anna poked her head in at six that evening, she shook me awake to make sure I wasn’t dead.

I never knew how I’d feel when I woke up from a nap. Sometimes I felt like I had gotten run over by a Mack truck, my thoughts creeping like sludge through my brain, but other times I was completely fine. I was lucky enough that day to wake up feeling like a million bucks. I dove right back into work.

“Hi, this is Alex,” I said into the phone, grabbing a pencil and readying myself to take notes. Having finished another deal with Peter, during which I noticed a few flirtatious comments from him but no actual overtures, I’d thrown myself into working furiously for Matt and Jordan. I had always enjoyed working for them, but now I also didn’t trust Peter to give me a good review despite the fact that I had leverage over him. If he ever wanted me gone, a bad review would be the way to do it. I needed to be perfect for Matt and Jordan.

“Skippy!” Matt’s voice rang through the receiver.

I put my pencil down.

“I’m here with Didier. You’re on speaker.”

“We missed you last night, Skippy!” Didier’s French accent sounded especially heavy, meaning he was either drunk or hungover.

I looked at my clock. Eleven a.m. Hungover, I hoped.

“I was completely unaware you were going out! Thanks for the invite!” There was a pause, and I panicked that I might have overstepped before I heard Didier grunt in approval.

“Come up!” Matt commanded.

“On my way.”

When I reached his office, I knocked once on the closed door before it swung open and Didier ushered me in with a dramatic bow and shut it behind me. Jordan’s notebook was on the couch, but Jordan was not. Matt was at his desk, looking slightly green. Matt and Didier scrolled through their phones and then pulled the screens closer to their faces and burst out laughing.

“What?” I asked.

“Check your email,” Didier told me.

“Check your sent mail!” Matt corrected him. I furrowed my brow and looked at my phone. The first email in my sent mail was marked urgent, but I didn’t think I’d added the red exclamation mark to a recent message.

From: Alexandra Vogel

To: Salomine, Didier; Morris, Taylor; Rinker, KJ; Matt Jaskel; Sellar, Jordan

Subject: I need to cut loose tonight. I don’t want to just go to a strip club, I want to dance at one!!!

I reread it three times, my eyes bugging out of my head. When Jordan entered Matt’s office, hysterically laughing, I punched him in the arm. “You’re an asshole,” I announced.

“Just teaching you to lock your computer before you leave your office, Skip.”

I didn’t even bother to email Didier’s team to explain that Jordan had actually written it—they would know it was par for the course. The three men, who’d sunk down in their seats, looked miserable. Matt had one finger to his temple, while Didier breathed in with a hand over his stomach as though he was trying to keep from vomiting.

I sniffed the room. “Jesus. You guys reek,” I said, taking a seat on the opposite end of the couch from Jordan.

“Quite a night you missed, Skip,” Matt said. “I slept on that couch because I was afraid to go home to my wife.”

“Yikes.”

“Tell her,” Jordan said. He put his fist to his mouth as he let out a small burp, as though he was afraid vomit would escape.

“I saw that,” I told him. “You are literally the most repulsive human on earth.”

“Didier, tell Skippy what we did last night,” Jordan demanded.

“No! Don’t,” Matt interjected.