Sleeping With A Wall Street Banker

1 Greenwich, Connecticut The ambulance raced through Greenwich. Its sirens, which could be heard for miles, fell silent as the ambulance turned into Greenwich Hospital. A police show of force awaited the ambulance outriders, adding to their numbers. Hospital security tightened as the media circus gathered outside. The blur of the ambulance’s lights extinguished seconds after it stopped outside the emergency entrance. The paramedics, Pete and Liz, whisked the stretcher into the emergency department and into the operating theater. “The patient is female and in her early thirties,” Pete informed the gathering emergency team. “Assistance please!” Liz and two of the emergency team joined with Pete to roll a “scoop” stretcher under the patient and lift her onto the hospital trolley. Pete continued to brief the team as they removed the scoop. As he spoke, he turned his head toward Dr. Milner, who was checking her vital signs. “The patient was confused at the scene,” Pete said. “We were unable to verify many of the details relating to the incident.” “She’s unresponsive!” Dr. Milner said. “Her breathing is abnormal. Crash team!” In an instant, roles changed. The crash team commenced cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR). Seconds passed. “She’s defibrillating!” the monitoring emergency medic said. “Clear!” The nurse giving CPR ceased chest compressions. Another team member moved in with a defibrillator. Once the electric shock was delivered to the patient, all eyes turned to the monitor in search of a heartbeat. Edward Bernstein of the Wall Street Journal joined the other reporters outside the hospital. When he spotted Zara, a colleague and friend he had known from his time at the New York Times, he headed toward her. “Hey, Zara.” Edward leaned forward and embraced her. “What’s the latest on the hospital victim? Do we have a name?” Zara shook her head. “No. A spokesperson for the police just announced they’ll hold a press conference once the next of kin has been contacted.” “In the last update I received, the police were not ruling out a connection between this incident and this morning’s discovery of a man’s body in an apartment in New York,” Edward said. “Have the police identified the owner of the apartment?” Zara asked. “Yes. Jessica Brooks.” “Who’s Jessica Brooks?” “An aspiring art dealer.” He did not add where he had heard the name or that he had heard it before that day. “I thought you were with the Wall Street Journal. Isn’t a dead body outside your remit?” Zara asked. “Still with the Wall Street Journal,” Edward replied. “My sources inform me there’s a connection with Wall Street.” 2 London (Three Years, Nine Months Earlier) When Jake walked into the main room at the Tate Modern, his attention was drawn to the woman at the other end of the room. She was talking animatedly with a host from the KBW accountancy firm. He observed not only how she talked but also how she listened attentively. She was dressed in a charcoal gray suit with a silk scarf draped on her arm, and when she laughed, her smile radiated throughout the room. As the woman meandered through the Tate’s collection of modern and contemporary art, Jake followed at a distance and noted the graceful way she moved and how elegant she looked as she went from room to room. Several rooms had been cordoned off for the KBW event. The firm had invited clients from a variety of business sectors. Jake did not take his eyes off her when she walked over to the buffet table. When she stopped close to where he was standing to place her glass on the table, her pose was attractive, and the sweet aroma of her perfume stirring his senses. As she leaned forward to put her empty glass on the tabletop, the silk scarf on her arm slipped off and fell to the floor. “Alice, your scarf.” Jake bent down, reached for the scarf, and handed it to her. He thought she faltered when he called her by name. He watched her gaze as it moved down to her identity badge, which read, “Alice Francis, Legal Counsel, International Gaming Limited (IG),” and then engaged her with his eyes. “Thank you,” she said, composed once again. He held his hand out to greet her. “Jake Logan.” “I detect an American accent,” she said as she shook his hand. “Yes. I lived in New York and worked on Wall Street until three years ago when HK Bank transferred me to London temporarily.” Jake was disappointed when their host intervened, turning the conversation back to business while ushering them into the adjoining room for the presentation. “Fuck!” he said under his breath. He had missed his opportunity to ask her to join him for a drink later. Several attendees entered the room at the same time, forcing Jake and Alice in opposite directions. He saw her to his left. When his eyes engaged with hers, she blushed and looked away. He tried to focus on the fifteen-minute presentation, but thoughts of her kept distracting him. He stole another glance at her. When the last speaker wished the audience a good evening, the people to his left stood up to leave. Jake turned, hoping to catch Alice’s attention, but the seat she had occupied at the end of the row was empty. When he spotted her in the crowd, she was making her way out of the room. He looked on, but he could not get around the people to his left or right to stop her from leaving. Just then, he looked down at the program in his hand. “Alice,” he whispered. Within seconds of the presentation closing, Alice rushed out of the Tate to the waiting taxi she had booked earlier. As she settled into the backseat, she reached into her bag for her BlackBerry. At the top of her work e-mails was an email from Jake. Hey, Alice. I was pleased to meet you and would like to continue our conversation. For a moment, she was astonished that Jake had gotten her e-mail address. Then she remembered that on the back of the event program, KBW had provided a list of all attendees and their business e-mail addresses. That he had contacted her excited Alice. Ditto, she thought, leaning back in her seat and closing her eyes, curious as to whether a friendship might develop between Jake and her. To the outside world, Alice appeared to have followed her career as a lawyer at the expense of relationships. Internally, she was soul-searching, opening her mind to her true feelings. She yearned to find a loving relationship. London (Ten Weeks Later) Alice and Jake’s first romantic meeting was on a cold evening in late March. It had snowed earlier in the week, but most of the snow had cleared. The morning and afternoon had been parts of one of those rare days in London when the gray sky gave way to a clear, bright blue. A few buds had started to appear on the bare trees. Spring was creeping in, and the days were getting longer, but winter had not let go at its appointed time. Although it had been a mild day, the evening was cold, and that presented a problem as Alice contemplated what to wear. How could she dress in a manner that would appeal to a man and yet allow her to stay warm? She eyed the array of clothes in her wardrobe carefully. It was too late to hit the shops. She sat down on her bed in despair. Then she spotted it—the perfect dress. She slipped on the black, sleeveless Armani and turned to face the mirror. The dress had a bubble hem and fell softly just above her knees. The top of the dress was cut in a slight racer back to reveal her slender, toned shoulders. The lace brocade fitted snugly on her shoulders and finished just above her breasts.