“I’m not.” But the words felt funky in my mouth, because in some ways, I was. Neither of us gave a rat’s ass about the rain pounding on our faces as we stood in the middle of the street. Her scent, of peaches and sugar and Arya, amplified through the rain. The light turned green behind her back. I stepped closer, my fingers twitching to cup her cheek. “Cut your losses. Turn your back on your father like he turned his back on you. Have dinner with me.”
She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut. Raindrops flew from her hair. Suddenly, we were back to being fourteen. I glued my forehead to hers, breathing her in. Shockingly, she didn’t push me away. Our hair was plastered together, our noses touching. Her heart pounded against mine. I wanted to do things I had no business thinking about.
“God.” She curled her fists, pressing them against my chest. “I want this to stop.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
I was, at least in that moment. It was a moment of pure, simple old Nicky, with his stupid weakness for this girl.
“I feel so lost.” She exhaled.
“You’ll find yourself, soon enough. When the trial ends. When the dust settles.”
“Is fucking a Roth a longtime dream of yours?” Her lips moved so close to mine I could taste them.
“Not generally, no. But one in particular, yes. It’s on my bucket list.”
“And do you always achieve what’s on your bucket list?” Lips against lips. Skin against skin.
“Most times,” I admitted.
“Well, you’re not getting me.”
“You’re already halfway mine.”
Our bodies were flush together, our clothes soaking wet, but she didn’t cower. She didn’t step back. I remembered the twelve-year-old girl who wouldn’t let me win one stupid argument while we hung out at the cemetery. That girl was still there.
“Wanna bet?” Drops of water hung from her eyelashes, and she’d never looked more beautiful, more destructive, more real.
“Sure.” I spoke into her mouth. “Let’s make it interesting. If we have sex, you are paying me for all the dinners I’m going to take you to retroactively.”
Someone pushed past us, almost knocking Arya into the street on their quest to find a dry spot. I pulled her by the waist into me, back to safety. Our gazes didn’t break.
“How chivalrous of you. And if I win and we don’t sleep together, you are going to answer all of my questions about my father’s case.”
“I can’t do that.”
“After it’s over,” she clarified. “Which is also the timeline for this bet.”
I tucked wet tresses of hair behind her ears. “Within reason, and with my attorney-client-confidentiality agreement in mind, you have a deal.”
“How long will the trial last for?” she asked. I was mesmerized by her lips. How wet they were. The way they pouted around different vowels as she spoke.
“Four weeks. Five, if your father’s legal team gets its head out of their asses and shows up, which frankly seems unlikely.”
“Better get your game on.” She offered me a vixenish wink.
I watched her go, feeling robbed somehow.
Ari and Nicky.
Nicky and Ari.
Then, I hadn’t been enough.
I was going to prove to her that nowadays, I was more than she could handle.
Later that evening, Arsène and I were in a trendy SoHo bar when we met Jason Hatter, a nice enough chap who’d gone to Harvard Law School with me. He spotted us from across the bar, kissed his date’s cheek, and made his way to us. He told us he’d recently made it to partner at his own firm, but he looked about as jolly as a man who had to lick armpits for a living.
“You’re still not partner?” Jason asked, more surprised than cocky about it. He was a nice guy, but he sure was as tactless as a used napkin.
“Christian is still working his charms on Daddy and Daddy.” Arsène patted the small of my back, like I was his date or some shit. I swatted his hand away with a glare.
“I’ll be made partner this year,” I told Jason.
“Well, I don’t doubt it. You have made yourself quite a name. My girlfriend’s asking if you’re seeing anyone.”
I thought about Arya, not Claire, before shaking my head. “But no offense, pal, I’m not into the whole threesome thing.”
Jason laughed. “I meant she wants to set you up with a friend.”
“Oh.” I frowned. “Not into that either.”
After Jason left, Arsène turned to look at me, a smirk full of triumph playing on his lips. “Back to your story. Just so we’re on the same wavelength here, you’re saying you chased her down the street?”
I cradled my brandy, rubbing my knuckles over my jaw. “Correct.”
“And then,” Arsène continued, speaking extra slowly, staring at me like I should be wearing a helmet, because I was a danger to myself and everyone around me, “you bet her you could make her sleep with you, even though you don’t even have her phone number?”