Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 89553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
“What?” Lucy asks. It takes everything I have not to roll my eyes at the interruption. “Admin processes like KYC and stuff?”
I take a beat. Should I be discussing this in front of Lucy? Why is she so interested?
“Yes, KYC and some of the financial questionnaires. It would be good to have it automated, but doing it takes time—”
“You can get consultancies to come in and do it. That’s what we did in our firm. They’re industry specific. I had to look into it because I automated all the NDAs. No one had done it because they were all focused on the big documents, but actually it’s saved a ton of time because we use them so frequently. It’s really worth the investment.” She nods enthusiastically, and for a moment I wonder if she’s been possessed by a fully functioning human rather than the deranged psycho we both agree she normally is.
“Right,” I say, nodding to Ed. “That’s what I keep saying. Even though they’re short documents, it saves time—”
“And it’s more professional these days,” Lucy interrupts. “If you’re not automating things like KYC while your competitors are, you’re wasting money.”
“Right,” I say, spluttering in agreement. “It’s an investment worth making.”
“Sounds good,” Katherine says.
Ed sighs as if he can’t think about another thing. “Maybe we can look into getting a consultancy firm in to do it. We’re spread so thin at the moment.”
Don’t I know it.
“And if we keep growing, it’s only going to get worse,” I say.
Lucy nods like she’s totally in my corner, and it makes me equally terrified and grateful.
“I can give you the name of the firm we used,” she says. “We were going to meet up to go through some of the planning for the bachelor and bachelorette weekend, aren’t we, Hunter? I can give you more information then.”
“Sounds good,” I say, trying not to be obvious that the last thing I want to do is meet up with Lucy.
“Remind me when you said that was going to be? Was it tonight? I know you’re super eager to arrange everything.”
“Well, I’ve done the hard part and found the perfect beach house,” I say. “I don’t think we need to overprepare.”
“Perfect!” Lucy exclaims. “That’s what’s so great about Hunter. He’s so confident. I’m coming over to your place tonight to plan everything and look at detailed images of this perfect beach house. It’s going to be fantastic.” She pulls out her phone. “Tell me your address?”
Fuck. I’m in checkmate. I can’t refuse to give her my address—it seems shady because we’re both playing along with the whole we get on like besties vibe. But if I give her my address, I’ll have her camped out on my doorstep, demanding this, that, and the other. If Ed wasn’t here, I’d just give her a fake address, maybe somewhere way up in the Bronx, so she can have a nice long subway ride to think about her recent actions. But given he’s stayed at my place, there’s no way I can get away with that.
I should have just messaged her and said I’d found the place. If I’d done that, she probably wouldn’t insist we need a meeting. It’s my own stupid fault. In fact, if I’d done that, she probably wouldn’t have stomped over in the bar and embarrassed us both. Or herself, mainly. I can admit that I’ve been a bit of a dick, though I’ll never confess it out loud. Because she’s been . . . a hapless harpy.
“I’m at 222 Lexington. You can come by at eight tonight, and we’ll figure everything out.”
I deserve my fate, whatever that might be.
Chapter Seven
Lucy
It’s 7:55 p.m. when I press the buzzer for Hunter’s apartment. By the time I’m at his door, it will be eight, so technically, I won’t be early.
The buzzer crackles and then Hunter speaks over the intercom. “Of course you’re early.”
“Technically, I won’t be—” The door unlocks with a buzz, cutting me off. I balance the Bankers Box on my knee and pull open the door. He could have offered to come down and help me with this.
I arrive at his door and tap it with my foot, as I don’t want to put the box down. Hunter is already talking when he abruptly pulls open the door.
“What the actual hell, Lucy? Why are you kicking my . . .” He sees my full hands, and there’s a moment when we both silently recognize how quickly he jumped to conclusions. The wrong conclusions.
“Add it to the list,” I say.
“The . . . what?”
“The list. Of grievances? About me? I’m sure there’s a running tab somewhere.”
He leans against the doorjamb and crosses his ankles, like it has never once occurred to him to take the heavy box out of my hands. “You forget,” Hunter says. “I’ve met your parents. I’ve met your sister. I’ve even met your great-aunt Mildred. They all seem so . . . normal. What happened to you? Dropped on your head as a child? Switched at birth? Alien overlord trapped in a human-skin suit?”