Page 1 of Stone

CHAPTER ONE

On the Rocks was packed. Nola Newhouse shouldered her way through the door into the hottest Irish pub in Chelsea. Tucking her handbag under her arm, she made a beeline straight for the bar. After a long week at work, she needed a cocktail. Stat.

Her feet throbbed. Her new Dolce and Gabbana heels looked divine, but hurt like hell. She hid a wince. They were worth the splurge, but she couldn’t wait to take them off when she finally got home to her apartment.

She squeezed into a spot at the gleaming, wooden bar and signaled a bartender. Since she came here a lot, she already had the cocktail menu memorized. “A Celtic martini, please.”

The young man, wearing a black shirt topped with a green apron, smiled at her. “Coming right up.”

Nola turned and scanned the bar. There was shining wood everywhere, and the walls were covered in framed photos of either the green Irish countryside or the whiskey-making process. On the Rocks prided themselves on their extensive collection of Irish whiskies, which her brother and his work friends appreciated.

Like her, there were lots of men and women in suits, all celebrating the end of the work week. She was meeting her brother and his wife, along with his work colleagues, for a few drinks.

She glanced at her silver Longines watch, which had been a recent gift from her father. It was still early. Nick and the others wouldn’t be here for a while.

The watch made her think of her father, and that made her roll her eyes. Charles Newhouse was rich and snobby. He was always badmouthing Nick, who was actually Nola’s half-brother.

Nick was a former Navy SEAL, and now an integral part of the best security firm in New York City—Sentinel Security—which was owned by the delicious badass Killian Hawke.

But unless you wore a suit, had a fancy corner office, and made lots of money, her father wasn’t interested. Money and prestige were the only signs of success he saw.

“Here you go.”

The bartender slid her glass across the glossy surface of the bar. Nola paid and smiled her thanks. She lifted the glass and took a big sip of lemony goodness.

Her father had been leaving her voicemails every day this week. He wanted to set her up with some hotshot stockbroker he knew.

No, thanks. She’d tried a blind date set up by her dad before. Once was enough. Not that dating apps were proving much better. She was sick of New York suits. Her last few dates had really been a new low.

Her cellphone vibrated. She pulled it out of her handbag and saw a text message from her assistant, Grace.

You got the listing, Nola! The penthouse in High Line Tower.

Yes! Nola grinned. The amazing penthouse was going up for sale, and she’d fought hard for the chance to be the Realtor for it.

“You, Magnolia Newhouse, are going to sell that gorgeous place.” She took another sip of her martini, then tapped out a message. She started with an emoji of a champagne glass.

I knew we’d get it.

I already sent your staging plan to Joanne. She’s going to get her team to stage it tonight.

I knew there was a reason I hired you. Expect a big bonus when I sell this baby.

I’ll hold you to that. If you need any changes to the staging furniture, let me know.

I’ll go and check it out tomorrow.

Nola mentally checked her schedule. She always worked on a Saturday, and she could move some appointments around so she could inspect the penthouse. She already had a bunch of ideas for how she’d market it, and a few clients who’d be interested.

Her commission would be very large, and very lovely. There were definitely more designer shoes in her future. Plus, she could totally go and splurge on baby gifts for her niece.

Nick and his wife Lainie were pregnant. Lainie was Nola’s best friend. She could hardly believe that her two favorite people were having a baby. Nola had plans to be the cool aunt, and on top of that, they’d also asked her to be the godmother.

A baby. Her brother and her best friend were having a baby.

Nola smiled, but all the happiness she felt for them didn’t quite cover the hollow feeling she tried really hard to ignore. She knew what it was. Envy. She took a larger sip of her drink.

She sighed. She wanted a baby. Her thirty-second birthday was looming, and she’d started to hear the ticking of her biological clock. She was well aware that a woman’s fertility declined after thirty-five.

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