All In (10 page)

12

“I
t's just a boat trip, nothing to get all worked up about,” David said.

“It's not the
boat
I'm worried about,” Michel snapped. “What I'm worried about is whether or not you've gone completely insane. You know you're welcome to borrow my boat and go wherever the hell you want with whomever the hell you want. But with her?” Michel pinched the bridge of his nose. The leather of his desk chair squeaked as he moved his massive body in it.

David walked over to the door and closed it all the way. Hammar Capital's employees were in the next room working, from early in the morning to late at night, busy analyzing companies. They didn't need to hear this conversation.

“You're the one who's always saying people shouldn't mix business and pleasure,” Michel continued, sounding angry. “So maybe you'd like to explain what you're up to here. Because I really don't understand why you're suddenly spending so much time with Natalia De la Grip. I thought we'd written her off.” Michel looked more concerned than usual. But then he was such a tremendously thorough person, meticulously checking and double-checking everything. There was no one in the entire world David would rather have on his side when it came to work. But that didn't mean he told Michel everything. Not that there was anything to tell, he reminded himself, but still.

“It's nothing serious,” he said. Because even the thought that this would be anything more than an extremely short-lived flirtation was downright laughable. Natalia was fun to talk to, time flew by when he was with her, and that impulsive caress on the cheek—for crying out loud, it wasn't even a kiss, just a peck, but it had gotten his body's attention, and he wanted a little more. But it wasn't serious. He knew that better than anyone. “I'm just cultivating a valuable contact.”

“Yeah, right,” scoffed Michel.

David shook his head. Swapping text messages with Natalia had put him in a good mood; he was practically filled with anticipation, and he had no interest in arguing with Michel. If their roles were reversed, he probably would have reacted too.

Aside from the fact that there was nothing to react to, of course. He needed to eat, she needed to eat, and fresh air was healthy. Besides, it was no fun going out in the boat by yourself. He could think of at least five, maybe ten different reasons that this spontaneous outing was nothing to overreact to.
And
one
very big reason that Michel's reaction made sense
.

“I know what I'm doing,” he said placatingly.

“Soon,” Michel said, not looking in the least placated. “Soon this takeover is going to be on the front page of every paper. Here, in Europe, and in the US. No one has ever done anything like this before. You've said so yourself, many times. If you have some agenda of your own with that woman, you'd better say so. You're not the only one working on this deal. Don't forget that.” Michel had a lot of his own personal money riding on this, just as David did, and he had every right in the world to be worried.

David shoved his hands into his pants pockets and walked over to the window. Michel's office had a view of the Royal Palace and Skeppsbron Quay. He turned around. “I'm just going out for dinner after work on a weekday with an industry colleague,” he said. “I don't have any hidden agenda. We're two adults getting together to eat and maybe chat a bit. She's a good contact, she knows everyone, I've worked with her boss. I'm networking.”

Michel scoffed again. “Yeah, right.”

David gave him a lingering look. Michel wasn't himself. They hadn't talked about what had happened at the bar on Saturday. They were men. They didn't talk about things like that. Maybe that was a mistake. “What's up with you, anyway? If you don't want me to borrow the boat, just say so. Otherwise this is none of your business. She isn't responsible for running Investum. She could be anyone.”

Michel flung up his hands as if to say he gave up. “Take the boat. I know you'd never do anything unprofessional,” he said. “I just need to get some sleep.”

David studied him closely. He actually did look tired. “Does this have anything to do with Åsa Bjelke?” he asked.

Michel clenched his jaw, but just said, “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. I've never seen you like that. You were mad at her.”

“I was surprised to see her. It was nothing important.”

“Come on,” David said decidedly, patting his friend on the shoulder. “I'm going to go buy some picnic food. Come along and I'll buy you a coffee.”

 

Much later, as David stood waiting for Natalia on Stureplan, outside her office, he thought that Michel might be right after all. Maybe he should leave Natalia alone. She seemed to be a genuinely nice person.

The Investum deal was going to explode in the media soon, and the circus would be in full swing. Journalists would be calling like crazy, their columns filled with speculation, and he and Michel could start on the next step.

It was unavoidable that once she discovered the full scope of what he planned, Natalia would hate him. He didn't want that to happen, because he liked her. And if they continued seeing each other, the betrayal would feel personal to her. He would hurt her. That was an uncomfortable thought.

But that chaste peck on the cheek had started something he didn't want to ignore. And she had felt something too. But he couldn't let it go any further, he decided. Picnics, pecks on the cheek—this would have to be enough. Anything more would be sheer lunacy.

And he was many things—hard, inconsiderate, ruthless—but he wasn't crazy.

13

N
atalia stepped out onto the street, and the heat hit her. She'd been sitting in her air-conditioned office since morning and hadn't realized how hot it was outside. She'd never been invited on a picnic for a date in her entire life, which was tragic of course, but more importantly, it also made her a little unsure what to wear.

Ultimately, she'd decided on a cap-sleeve silk blouse and thin, light-colored linen pants from the spare outfits she kept at work. Her office was in the Sturegallerian shopping center just off the public square, and as she stepped out, David was waiting for her. When she saw his T-shirt and jeans, she felt absurdly overdressed. He raised his hand, the one with the stainless-steel watch, and waved. Every time she thought of him, she was sure she must be romanticizing how handsome he was, how tall and broad-shouldered he seemed. And every time they actually saw each other she realized that she hadn't exaggerated in the least. It was no surprise that the media went wild over him.

“Hello there,” he said with a smile.

“Hi,” she replied, gratefully noting that her voice sounded calm and fairly cool.

He put his hand on her shoulder and leaned in toward her cheek with his lips. A quick peck on the cheek. She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of him. Lord, even that little whiff was enough to arouse her. She pulled away and collected herself, gave him a friendly smile. “Where are we going?”

David surveyed her elegant slacks and nice blouse with bemusement. “I should have known you'd wear something thin and impractical,” he said and then looked at her neatly done hair. “And that hairdo is definitely not going to hold up.”

He put his hand on her upper arm. “Come on,” he said. She didn't have a chance to reflect on how his hand burned her skin before he let go of her again.

They strolled down toward the water, passing through a steady stream of tourists, families with kids, and dog walkers.

“How was Malmö?” she asked.

“You know how they are down there,” he replied with a grin.

“I love southern Sweden.”

“Yeah, it's nice,” David said. He smiled. “And here we are.”

Natalia looked around. They had stopped in front of an elegant little place with outdoor seating. Dressed-up waiters were carrying drinks and plates of hors d'oeuvres. Music poured out over the beachside promenade. It looked wonderful to sit out by the sparkling water, and she ignored her discomfort at their being seen together—right here on Strandvägen Boulevard among people who knew who she was. It was only sheer luck that no one had noticed them on the way over here.

“Not there,” said David, as if he'd read her mind. “Here.” He nodded his head out at the water, and Natalia gasped.

A yacht, gleaming white, was moored at the quay. It was enormous, and with its sleek lines and its chrome railings it looked almost alive, like a shark or a javelin, brimming with energy, raring to go.

“I thought we might not want to be right in the thick of things,” David said, giving her a questioning look. “Or would you rather stay onshore?”

“No,” Natalia said, admiring the white beast of a boat. She felt a tingle of excitement.

He stepped on board, and Natalia took the hand he offered her. The boat bobbed impatiently under her feet.

“Do you want me to give you the tour first?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I want to get going.”

David untied and then began pushing buttons and moving levers. The motor started with a deep rumble. He turned the wheel and backed out.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“There's a basket of food in the galley. What do you say we just head out to the archipelago and stop in a bay somewhere on the way?”

“That sounds divine.”

 

Soon they had left Stockholm and all the ferries and larger vessels on the busy waters of downtown's Nybroviken behind. They proceeded across Saltsjö Bay and swooshed past the island of Lidingö. Even a ways out into the archipelago on the Baltic, there was a lot of boat traffic, the sun was shining at full force, and the jetties they passed were crowded with people.

After a bit, David steered the boat into a small, secluded bay, pulled down the throttle levers, anchored, and turned to Natalia. “Come on, let me show you what it looks like down below.”

They descended a narrow stairway into the cabin, and when Natalia stepped off the last step onto a wood floor, she couldn't help but laugh.

This had to be, hands down, the most ostentatious luxury yacht she'd ever seen in her life. She'd once been invited to the Royal couple's yacht and it didn't come close to this. The whole interior was glossy, varnished wood and white textiles. There was a skylight, porthole windows in the walls overlooking the water, and small recessed spotlights in the ceiling that made the space bright and airy. There was a flat-screen TV hanging on the wall, display cases and shelves full of gleaming Pillivuyt porcelain, and a microwave oven mounted over one cabinet. An enormous wicker basket sat on a table.

David nodded at a cupboard. “Could you get out a couple champagne glasses?”

While Natalia took out two champagne flutes, he opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of champagne. “I bought pink champagne,” he said.

“If I didn't know better, I would think you were trying to impress me,” she said, stifling a giggle at the expensive-looking bottle.

“You know how we nouveau-riche wannabes are,” he said. “It's an eternal struggle, trying to impress all you blue bloods. Tell me if it's working.”

“I promise I will.”

David took the bottle in one hand, the enormous picnic basket in the other, and disappeared back up the stairs, taking them two at a time. “Come on. We're going to have a picnic,” he called over his shoulder.

With the glasses in her hand and a bubbly laugh in her chest, Natalia followed him.

 

At the stern there was a table and benches coming out of the wall, and they each sat down on their own bench. While David peeled the pink foil off the bottle and then started untwisting the wire, Natalia examined the contents of the basket.

She furrowed her brow. “How many women were you planning to feed with this?” she asked as she started pulling out plates of air-dried prosciutto, salami, bresaola, and various cheeses, plus crocks of olives, roasted vegetables and pesto, and a warm bread basket.

“Just one hungry banker,” David said, watching her take out piles of focaccia and still more cheese.

“Wow,” she said when she found a butter-stained bag filled with miniature savory pies that smelled heavenly.

“Hmm. Maybe I should have bought red wine,” David said, eyeing all the meats and cheeses.

“This will be perfect,” Natalia said with a smile. “But this table isn't big enough; there isn't room for all the food.”

They ended up each filling a plate and taking it up to the foredeck, where they spread out a blanket. Natalia sat down in lotus position. David handed her a glass, filled his own, and raised it in a toast.

“Tell me more about how you became one of the world's most successful venture capitalists,” Natalia said.

“What do you want to know?” he asked. It pleased her that he didn't try to downplay his success, didn't hide behind any false modesty.

“I know why, but I don't know how. And I've never met anyone who's done what you've done,” she said between bites. Lord, it was so good. And the champagne went right to her head. “Started from scratch, I mean.”

“Mmm,” he said. “I've always worked to support myself. When I was in high school and my classmates were going on tropical vacations or ski trips during breaks, I was working, every break, every weekend. That's still how it is.”

Natalia took a big bite of tangy taleggio cheese. She was one of the people who'd always gone away on vacation. Although obviously she'd always known on some level that that wasn't a universal, that some people couldn't afford to, she'd still never really reflected on it.

“I saved as much money as I could from my earnings,” David continued. “I started buying stocks as soon as I figured out how, and I made some really good picks even back when I was going to Skogbacka.”

Natalia wondered what David had thought about the famous—or infamous, depending on how you looked at it—boarding school. Both Peter and Alexander had gone there. And her father was a trustee. You could say that the men in her family had Skogbacka in their blood. She'd gone to one of the other boarding schools, one that was considered milder and gentler, more suitable for the family's women, or
girls
, as her mother called them. But both schools were expensive, and David—the son of a single mother, if she remembered correctly—could only have attended on a scholarship. She wondered how he'd been affected by what must have been a tremendous source of alienation. The elitist boarding school educated the children of the well-to-do, the really rich, people with noble titles, royal pedigrees, and manor houses. As the son of a single mother, David couldn't have had an easy time there.

“I kept that up when I was at the Stockholm School of Economics,” David said, and Natalia pushed her other thoughts aside. David Hammar, grinning slightly as he sat across from her, and radiating power and vitality on the bow of a very pricey yacht, was hardly a man to be pitied. “So, all throughout school—as I worked my other side jobs—I kept buying and selling stocks. And I started building a network of contacts.” He shrugged. “That's how it started. I studied abroad in London, where I met Gordon Wyndt . . .” He looked to see if she recognized the name.

“I know who that is,” she said. The last time she'd checked, Wyndt was number forty-five on the list of the world's richest people. Having a man like that as a mentor was probably exactly what a hungry young student without his own family connections needed.

“Gordon taught me a lot. After the School of Economics I earned a scholarship to Harvard, so I went to the US and studied there. I worked at a restaurant to support myself. And I was a business analyst for an American venture capitalist.” He made a face. “I didn't get much sleep during those years.”

“But was it fun?”

He nodded. “A lot of fun.”

Warmth spread through her chest. She recognized that pleasure, that love of work, and maybe that was why it was so rewarding to talk to him. They were so similar, which was downright crazy. But she saw herself in his passion, in his drive, and the conversation flowed so effortlessly. She felt comfortable with him. A little affected by him, yes; charmed—definitely. But not awkward or self-conscious.

“And then I founded HC,” he said with a beaming grin, maybe the first big smile she'd seen on him. “That's when I really got to work.”

Natalia laughed, sipped her champagne, and exhaled a deep, contented sigh. This was about as close to the perfect day as you could get.

 

David looked at Natalia, sitting there on the bow of Michel's boat, sipping champagne, and looking so genuinely content. Somehow she had managed to coax out of him the thing he normally didn't like to talk about: the early years. He wondered how much she actually knew about what had happened at Skogbacka. But then she had carefully guided him through the conversation, and he had babbled on. Now she looked happy and a little giggly, and maybe that should put him on his guard, but he was feeling happy, too.

“What do you see yourself doing in ten years?” she asked.

David took his glass and leaned on one elbow, just like her. “No idea,” he said. “Working around the clock, I suppose. Maybe I will have stopped chasing other people's money and just be investing my own.”

“Don't you want to have a family?”

David opened his mouth and then shut it again. “No,” he clipped. “Not if I can help it.”

She cocked her head to the side. “Alrighty then,” she said quietly.

God, how wonderful that she just accepted that. He couldn't keep track of how many women stubbornly insisted he would change.

“I've been thinking about you the last few days,” he said.

Her eyes started twinkling. “Really?” she said. “I'd almost forgotten about you.”

Her lie was so flagrant that David laughed. She sipped her champagne with her eyelashes lowered and a smile at the corner of her lips. He set down his glass, lay down on his back, put his hands behind his head, and thought that he could go back to being his usual calculating self tomorrow, but not now, not here. He couldn't remember when he'd last been this relaxed. And he was just as surprised each time he saw Natalia and ended up having so much
fun
.

“What?” she asked.

He kept watching the sky. The sun was still warm, but the first star was twinkling way up in the east. “I just feel good,” he said to the sky.

Seagulls soared high above them. The waves lapped against the hull, and David felt her looking at him, so he turned his head to her. He looked into her big, slightly champagne-tipsy eyes. He'd been right, he thought. Her librarian hairdo hadn't held up very well in the wind out on the water. Loose locks of hair fluttered around her face, and the bun was sagging at her neck.

“I love the archipelago,” she said, and he thought her voice sounded breathless.

“When I did my military service a hundred years ago, I spent a lot of time at sea,” he replied, looking out over the water. “I love it out here. I'd almost forgotten. I never come out anymore.”

“I thought you seemed comfortable on the water,” she said. “But this isn't your boat?”