Chapter One
Walt
“Wendy, this is too much,” I say, looking down at the first floor of my home. It’s bustling with caterers, decorators, and a very loud party planner who is shouting orders to anyone who will listen. Between the sound of her voice and the click of her heels on my marble floor, I’ve got a splitting headache, and I’m in a bad mood because of it.
“Walter,” Wendy says in her annoyingly nasal voice. She sounds like The Nanny, only somehow worse. “Calm down. You said I could do this. In fact, your exact words were, and I quote, go nuts, whatever you want.”
“That doesn’t sound like something I’d say,” I hedge.
“You so did, and you said you’d dress up.”
“I did? When did you even ask me?”
“On Halloween, at mom and dads. You were watching a movie or something.”
“Ah,” I say. That explains it. I was not paying attention.
“Let me guess; you weren’t listening, we’re you?”
“No.”
“Just get dressed. The party starts in an hour. People will be arriving soon,” she says before walking away. That’s just how Wendy is. She might be flighty, but somehow she is one of the strongest women I know. I chuckle as I walk into my bedroom. After a quick shower, I put on the bespoke white suit with pink pinstripes that Gatsby was famous for. Okay, so we’re going for DiCaprio’s version here. She even set a pinky ring and a herringbone cane out for me. I drop my phone in the coat pocket and head back to where I was standing before on the landing above the foyer.
The music is already loud, and there are tons of people milling about already. I hear several bottles of champagne already popping off. The Champagne Bar was the crazy party planner’s idea. I don’t know any of these people, but who the hell schleps all the way out to East Hampton for a New Year’s Eve party? Either way, it’s happening now, and I just know these college kids will be sleeping where they fall tonight. It’s a two-hour train ride back to Manhattan and a three-hour drive to their college.
I notice the front door opening. Before anyone even walks in, the air around me stills. I can’t explain it, really. A dark-haired goddess walks in and hands her jacket to the coat check person. Her shimmering flapper dress makes me think she looks like Daisy from Gatsby, but I can’t help praying she’s not as villainous as Daisy. I feel like I’ve seen her somewhere before, but I can’t place where. I know that I haven’t met her because that I would remember. I could be ninety in a nursing home and never forget that. Without thinking, I walk down the stairs, all but following her as she makes her way to my sister. I watch them scream and hug.
“You made it!” Wendy shouts.
“Of course I did,” the girl says.
“Walt! OMG, you have to meet Irina,” Wendy says when she spots me.
“Irina,” I say, taking her outstretched hand. She’s gorgeous.
“Walt?”
“Yes, that’s me.” I chuckle. Our hands are still connected. Neither of us makes a move to drop them.
“So you’re the brother?” she says, stepping a little closer to me. Her accent is undefinable but sexy as hell.
“Yeah. You’re the roommate?”
“Yep,” she says. I remember something Wendy said about how she was in the master’s program but wanted a roommate. Wendy was the only one who could pass the extensive background check. At the time, I thought it was weird that a background check, other than the cursory one Hixson provided. All I can think now is, thank God Wendy passed.
“How old are you?” I blurt out, all of my years of perfected smoothness are out the window, and I am right back to the sci-fi-loving geek that I was fifteen years ago.
“Twenty-two,” she says, and I can breathe again.
“Thank God,” I murmur.
“What was that?” she asks; the music drowned me out.
“Never mind. Would you like to dance?” I ask instead.
“Uh, sure,” she says. Still holding, I lead into the living room, where a wooden dance floor is set up. There’s no one else on the dance floor. As soon as we step onto it, the music changes to a slow song.
“I love this song,” she murmurs as I pull her closer to me. I don’t know the song, but she hums it as we sway to it. Somehow, over the music and the loudness of the partygoers, I can hear her, and it warms my cold, dead heart.
All my life, I’ve sought out the all mighty dollar. Ten years ago, I created some software that a huge company bought for millions of dollars. Since then, I’ve turned those millions into billions. At thirty-four, I’m ready to retire, find a wife, and grow old with her. I never gave a woman the time of day, but this one has me wanting things I didn’t even know I wanted.