One Night Wife (The Confidence Game 1)

She felt like a tiny crushable city. “Sure.” She reached up and twisted the piece of loose hair around the earring.

As they made their way to Halsey, God was that his first name or last, he hailed Cal with a wave, and then it was introduction time.

Cal did that manly shoulder-clap thing. “Halsey, this is Finley Cartwright.”

“Finley.” Halsey’s hand came out.

And so did Fin’s words. “Oh, they’re gorgeous.” She took his hand and tilted her head to see his wrist. “Your cufflinks.”

“Art Deco. Onyx and pearl.”

“Were they handed down?”

“More like hunted down.”

“Worth it.”

Cal cleared his throat, and they both looked at him. He’d stepped a little apart. “Finley has her own charity.”

“Cal is so good at promoting me.” She thrust her glass at Halsey. “Would you mind holding this a moment? This earring keeps getting caught.” She pulled her hair away and smiled at Halsey, who handed her flute back. “Is there any spare change left over from your hunting?”

“I spend it on tickets to events like this generally, but I can always scratch something up for a worthwhile cause.”

She worked to control her expression, make it smooth, bland, not show her amazement. This could maybe, possibly work. She was supposed to put Halsey off to make him keener to be involved, but that was a risk. What if she simply asked for money, closed the sale right now? She chanced a look at Cal.

“Halsey’s scratch is other people’s buy-a-car money,” he said, which was an instruction.

“I imagine you support all kinds of charitable works.”

“There’s always room for one more,” Halsey said.

“But you’re here to enjoy the art.”

He leaned forward conspiratorially. “I don’t understand the art.”

She laughed. “Thought it was just me.”

“Tell me about your charity.”

“We provide small loans to women in need to help them raise their families and become financially secure over time.” She went on to explain how the loan was paid back but without interest and how investors could have their money returned or keep investing it.

When he asked what level of investment she was looking for she didn’t hesitate. She wasn’t on a bar stool asking for a dollar. “Five thousand.” It was the amount Cal had said to ask for.

Halsey reached into his pocket. “How do I transfer the money to you?”

Inside, she was shouting, spinning, and she might never be able to stop. She’d had cards printed with the deposit details and handed Halsey one. He frowned and held his phone out, the screen open to a banking app. “You do it. Make it ten thousand.”

She almost dropped the phone.

“May vintage cufflinks rain down on you, Halsey. Thank you.” She studied the app and plugged in D4D’s account numbers. She typed the one and followed it with four zeros and hit okay and it was done. Just like that. In less than ten minutes, exactly as Cal said it would happen. And she’d barely used the script she’d labored over, relying instead on looking for ways to connect with Halsey and ad-libbing as Cal said she’d learn to.

She had enough money to jailbreak the website. Cal had made it possible.

“Cal, is that Herman Belcher?” said Halsey. The two men looked off into the crowd, and the app pinged in Fin’s hand. Transaction complete.

Halsey heard that ping and took his cell from her. He motioned into the room. “I need to catch Herman. Nice to meet you, Finley. Cal can give you my details to put on your donors’ list. Keep my money rotating and be sure to come back for more.”

She looked at Cal, stunned.