Page 22 of I'm Looking for a Man in Finance
And then, I heard it—a quiet sound from deep in his throat, like he was swallowing a curse or a groan—before he backed away again. The air between us cooled instantly.
“I’m simply stating facts.” That maddening smirk was back. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you aren’t putting up much of a fight in this game of ours.”
Without breaking the moment, he raised a hand, flicked his wrist, and sent his dart flying.
Bullseye.
“Maybe you need a new teacher, Hal.”
The nickname caught me off guard. People used to call me that when I was a kid—back when I had scraped knees, wild hair, and zero interest in impressing anyone. It was something my sister shouted across the soccer field, something my dad used when he ruffled my hair before dinner.
No one had called me that in years.
And yet, from James, it didn’t sound childish. It sounded intimate. Like a shared secret. Like he’d reached back in time and plucked a piece of me I didn’t even know I’d left behind.
Worse still? I hated that I didn’t hate it.
Then he tipped back his drink, polished it off, and disappeared into the bar—leaving me flushed, frustrated, and not entirely convinced it had anything to do with losing.
7
James
“Did you see the news about Peter Drake stepping down as CEO of Rooster?” Sebastian asked me over drinks at Whiskey Locker the following Thursday after work. “There’re whispers that Theo Drake has put his hat in the ring for the selection of the new CEO.”
My friend stared at me expectantly, but my mind was elsewhere. The last thing I wanted to talk about was work. I’d spent the last couple of days talking about the tech giant and its stocks. When they’d rise again. If they’d keep dropping. When we should reposition our portfolio back under them.
Instead, I watched the door, scanning each new patron as they walked in—waiting for a certain brunette to appear. I’d been buried in work until nearly ten last night and by the time I finally left the office, all I wanted to do was collapse into bed and sleep until the sun forced its way through my blinds. But still, I stopped by my favorite bar—just in case Hallie was there, working her charm and trying to seduce one of my coworkers into spilling details they’d probably rather keep to themselves.
“You know, Berkley Williams came out relatively unscathed in this complete debacle with Rooster.” Sebastian’s voice trickled back in over my thoughts of Hallie, which had been recurring over the last few days.
I’d spent the better part of the night after I ran into her on Tuesday reading through her biography onSophisticate’s website and scrolling through social media for any signs of a Hallie Woods. All I found was a food blog that covered local eateries around the city. Each review was thoughtful and done with an intention that sought to elevate the restaurant in front of more people. Plus, she seemed to get really great engagement on there. I told myself I was only trying to find different ways to protect my friends by staying up until three in the morning scrolling through every review. But in truth, I was also curious. This was a completely different perspective of the woman I’d been convinced was calculated and ambitious.
“We managed to position our portfolio for minimum damage,” I replied. “That’s our job, after all.”
Sebastian studied me from his side of our booth. We’d known each other long enough to know when the other was being purposefully vague.
I glanced down at my watch, ignoring the curious look my friend was giving me. It was nearly nine o’clock. If Hallie was planning on coming here tonight, she would have already showed up. I was certain of it. It was quite possible that she’d taken my threat seriously and tried her hand at a different bar to avoid me.
“Do you want to grab a night cap at McGuire’s tonight?” McGuire’s was another regular haunt for many of the people I worked with, though not nearly as popular as Whiskey Locker.
“We haven’t gone to McGuire’s in a long time,” Sebastian said slowly, and I could practically see the wheels turning behind his green eyes. But because Sebastiannever turned down a good time, he didn’t argue when I flagged down the waiter, handed over my card without blinking, and stood to grab my coat.
McGuire’s was only a few blocks away from Whiskey Locker. After a long day at the office, most of my coworkers didn’t want to venture far for a drink. Whiskey Locker was newer, flashier, and definitely more upscale—but McGuire’s was the kind of place that didn’t need polish to have charm.
The floors were a little sticky, the bar a bit cramped, but the beer was cold and the company was good. No one came to McGuire’s to be seen—they came to unwind.
Which, if I was being honest, was exactly why I’d suggested it. I hadn’t been able to shake Hallie from my mind, and something told me if she hadn’t already called it a night, this could be where she’d end up.
So it wasn’t a surprise when I walked in and immediately spotted Hallie tucked into a corner booth with a man I didn’t recognize, but could tell just from his suit that he worked for another investment firm. Roxie sat opposite her, laughing at something a second guy was saying.
Hallie’s cheeks were flushed like they’d been the other night, which I now knew meant that she was a few drinks in. Tonight, she wore a short, fitted dress under a tailored blazer, the hem riding high on her thigh above sleek, knee-high boots. The dress was deep green—soft, silky-looking—and it clung in all the right places. It made it impossible not to look twice.
She looked good. Really good.
Too good.
And though I didn’t want to admit it, not even tomyself, there was something about the way she laughed at whatever the guy she was with had said, the way her eyes sparkled under the dim lighting, that made it hard to breathe for a second.
