All In (2 page)

2

 

N
atalia searched through the stacks of paper on her desk. She pulled out a page of tables and numbers.

“Aha!” she said, waving the piece of paper around. She directed a look of triumph at the platinum-blond woman sitting on the little visitor's chair, which didn't actually fit in the cubbyhole that constituted Natalia's office. Natalia's friend, Åsa Bjelke, peered at the piece of paper with little interest before she went back to examining her pale fingernail polish. Natalia studied the mess on her desk and continued searching. She hated disorder, but it was almost impossible to keep this small workspace tidy.

“How are you
really
doing?” Åsa asked, taking a sip of the coffee she'd picked up on her way over and watching Natalia go back to searching the stacks of paper. “I'm only asking because you seem really unfocused,” she continued. “And while you do have a lot of quirks, lack of focus isn't usually one of them. I've never seen you like this.”

Natalia furrowed her brow. An important document was gone without a trace. She was going to be forced to ask one of the overworked assistants.

“J-O called from Denmark,” Natalia said about her boss. “He wanted me to submit a report, and I just can't find it.” She spotted another piece of paper, pulled it out, and read it with weary eyes. She hadn't gotten much sleep the previous night. First, she had worked until the wee hours. The enormous approaching deal was claiming almost all her time. Then a client had called early—very early—in the morning to complain about something that definitely could have waited a couple of hours. She glanced up at Åsa. “What do you mean I have quirks?”

Åsa took a sip from her disposable coffee cup, and then without responding to Natalia's question asked, “What's the problem?”

“Problem
s
,” Natalia replied. “My job. My dad. My mom. Everything.”

“But what's all this paperwork for? Whatever happened to a paperless society?”

Natalia glanced at Åsa. Her friend looked chipper and well rested, nicely dressed, and neatly manicured. A wave of irritation surged through her.

“Look, not that I don't appreciate your unannounced visits,” Natalia said, not entirely sincerely, “but my dad is always complaining about how much money his lawyers make. Shouldn't you be over at Investum working for your salary? I mean, instead of sitting here in my cramped office, swathed in Prada, harassing me?”

“I earn my high salary,” Åsa said, waving her hand dismissively. “And you know full well that your father's not going to get rid of me.” She gave Natalia a look. “You
know
that.”

Natalia nodded. She knew.

“I happened to be in the neighborhood,” Åsa continued, “and was just wondering if you wanted to get lunch. If I have to eat one more lunch with any of those other Investum attorneys, I'll kill myself. Actually, if I'd known how extremely boring lawyers are, I don't think I would have gone to law school.” She fluffed her blond hair. “Maybe I would have made a good cult leader.”

“I can't,” Natalia said quickly, a little
too
quickly, she realized, but it was too late. “I'm busy.” She cleared her throat. “Sorry,” she added unnecessarily. “Like I said, I'm busy.” She looked down and started flipping through some papers she'd already flipped through to avoid Åsa's penetrating stare.

“Really?”

“Yes,” Natalia said. “That's not so weird, is it?”

Åsa's eyes narrowed. “Considering you have a brain like a supercomputer, you're a terrible liar,” she said. “You had time yesterday. You said so yourself. And it's not like you have any other friends. Are you trying to avoid me?”

“No, I
am
busy. And I would never dream of trying to avoid you. You're my best friend. Although I do have other friends, you know. Maybe tomorrow? My treat.”

“Busy doing what, if I might ask?” Åsa said, not letting the possibility of a free lunch tomorrow distract her.

Natalia didn't say anything. She looked down at her buried desk. Now would be a good time for one of her phones to ring, or maybe the fire alarm could go off, she thought.

Åsa's eyes widened as if she'd had a realization. “Aha, who is he?”

“Don't be silly. I'm just going to eat lunch.”

Åsa's eyes narrowed to two turquoise slits. “But you're acting so weird, even for you. With who?”

Natalia pressed her lips together.

“Natalia, with who?”

Natalia gave up. “With someone from, um, HC.”

Åsa furrowed her light eyebrows. “With
who
?” she stubbornly demanded. She might have made a good cult leader, but she also would have made a terrific interrogator, Natalia thought. All that blond bimbo fluff was misleading.

“It's just a business lunch,” she said defensively. “With no agenda. He knows J-O,” she added as if the fact that her lunch date knew her boss explained everything.

“Who?”

She capitulated. “David Hammar.”

Åsa leaned back and beamed at Natalia. “The big guy, huh?” she said. “Mister Venture Capitalist himself. The biggest bad boy in the financial world.” She cocked her head. “Promise me you're planning to sleep with him.”

“You're crazed,” Natalia said. “Sex-crazed. I actually wish I could cancel it. I'm really stressed out. But one of the things I can't find in this mess is my cell phone, which has his number in it,” she added. How could you lose a phone in an office that was smaller than forty square feet?

“For God's sake, woman, why don't you get yourself an assistant?”

“I
have
an assistant,” Natalia said. “Who, unlike me, has a life. Her kids were sick, so she went home.” Natalia glanced at the clock. “Yesterday.” With a sigh she sank into her desk chair. She closed her eyes. She couldn't look anymore. She was really done. It felt like she'd been working nonstop for ages. And there was so much paperwork she was behind on, a report to write, and at least five meetings to schedule. Actually she didn't . . .

“Natalia?”

Åsa's voice made her jump, and Natalia realized she'd been dozing off in her uncomfortable chair.

“What?” she asked.

Åsa looked at her seriously. Her mocking expression was gone.

“Hammar Capital isn't evil, no matter what your dad and your brother think. They're tough, yes, but David Hammar isn't Satan. And he's really hot. You don't need to be ashamed if you think it'll be fun to meet him.”

“No,” said Natalia. “I know.” But she'd been wondering what Hammar Capital's legendary CEO wanted with
her
. And maybe he wasn't Satan, but he had the reputation of being hard and inconsiderate even by financial industry standards. “No, I'm just going to have lunch and get the lay of the land,” she said firmly. “If he has business with the bank, he's going to want to deal with J-O, not me.”

“But here's the thing. You never know with Hammar Capital,” Åsa said, gracefully standing up. “And you're underestimating yourself. Do you know anyone as smart as you? No, exactly.” She ran her hand over her completely stain- and wrinkle-free outfit. Even though she was wearing an austere suit (Natalia happened to know that this specific Prada suit had been tailor-made for Åsa), a simple silk blouse, and light-beige pumps, she looked like a glamorous movie star.

Åsa leaned over the desk. “You know very well you shouldn't care so much what your father thinks,” she said, as usual putting her finger right on the sore spot and pushing. “You're brilliant, and you're going to go far. You can make your career here.” Åsa gestured to the building they were in, the Swedish headquarters of one of the world's biggest banks, the Bank of London. “You don't have to work at the family company to be worth something,” Åsa continued. “They have the world's least progressive view of women's rights and you know it. Your dad is hopeless, your brother is an idiot, and the rest of the board wins the male chauvinist pig prize of all time. And I should know, because I work with them.” She cocked her head. “You're smarter than all of them put together.”

“Maybe.”

“So why don't you have a seat on the board?”

“But you work there. You're satisfied, aren't you?” Natalia asked, avoiding the question of why she was not on the Investum board. After all, that was quite the sensitive topic.

“Yes, but I'm only there because of gender quotas,” Åsa said. “I was hired by a man who hates having to fill quotas as much as he hates immigrants, feminists, and blue-collar workers. I'm his alibi. He can point to me and say that at least he hires women.”

“Dad doesn't hate ... ,” Natalia began, but then stopped. Åsa was right after all.

“Plus your dad feels sorry for me because I'm an orphan,” Åsa continued. “And I don't have any ambitions to take over the place and lead the wretched show. My only ambition is to avoid dying of boredom. But you, you could go all the way to the top.”

Åsa picked up her fifty-thousand-kronor handbag and started to root around in it. She pulled out a light-colored lipstick and dabbed some on her lips.

“He asked for a discreet meeting,” Natalia said. “Actually, I shouldn't have said anything. You won't tell anyone, will you?”

“You weirdo, of course I won't, but what do you think he wants?”

“Must be something about financing. Maybe he's putting together a deal with one of our clients? I don't know. I was up half the night trying to work that out. Or maybe he's just networking?” It wasn't unusual that people wanted to meet with her because of who she was—a De la Grip, a woman with connections and a pedigree. She hated it. But David Hammar had piqued her curiosity. And he hadn't sounded fawning or slick, just courteous. And she had to eat, so . . .

Åsa eyed her thoughtfully. “Actually, I should go with you. Who knows what silly things you'll let slip if you're left to your own devices.”

Natalia refrained from pointing out that she was considered one of Sweden's most promising corporate finance talents. Corporate finance was one of the business world's most complex fields, and she was one of the highest-ranked students to have earned a business degree in all of Sweden—ever. In her work with corporate finance, acquisitions, and advising, she managed literally hundreds of millions of Swedish kronor on a daily basis, and she was in the process of executing one of the most complex banking deals ever made in Sweden. Still, Åsa was of course right—who knew what silly things she would let slip today, as unfocused as she was. “I'll call you and tell you how it went,” was all she said.

Åsa watched her for a long time. “At least find out what he wants,” she finally said. “It can't hurt. A lot of people would do anything for the chance to work with David Hammar. Or to sleep with him.”

“You don't think it's too risky to be seen with him, do you?” Natalia asked, hating how unsure her voice sounded.

“Of course it's risky,” Åsa said. “He's dangerous, rich, and your father hates him. What more could you want?”

“Should I cancel?”

Åsa shook her head and said, “Of course not. A life without risk is no life at all.”

“
That's
today's word to the wise?” Natalia asked. It didn't have much of a ring to it.

Åsa laughed and held out her empty coffee cup. It was white with black lettering. “No, that's just what it says on my coffee,” she said. “I suppose I'd better head back to the office and make a couple of calls. Maybe I can fire someone. Lawyers really aren't any fun, huh? Where are you meeting him?”

“On DjurgÃ¥rden Island at the Ulla Winbladh restaurant.”

“Could be worse,” Åsa said. She couldn't seem to find anything to criticize, despite really trying. She ran her fingers over her scarf. The last time Natalia had seen a silk wrap like that was on a shelf in Nordiska Kompaniet's Hermès department, and the price tag had been considerable.

“You're a snob, you know that?” Natalia said.

“I'm quality-conscious,” Åsa said, adjusting the strap of her handbag over her shoulder. “Not everyone can buy mass-produced goods. Surely you can see that.” She shivered and then flashed Natalia a brilliant turquoise glance. “Just protect yourself. Who knows who he's slept with.”

Natalia made a face. “Apparently mostly princesses, if you believe the rumors,” she said. She wasn't above reading gossip on the Web.

“Bah, pretenders and nouveau riches,” said Åsa, whose family traced its Swedish roots back to the 1200s. “Just don't do anything I wouldn't do.”

Well, that doesn't rule out very much
, Natalia thought, but bit her tongue.

“Are you going to wear that?” Åsa asked, looking at Natalia's outfit with a face that suggested there just might be something worse than wearing mass-produced consumer goods. “Where in the world did you find it?”

“It's just a lunch meeting,” Natalia said defensively. “And this was actually custom-made, thank you very much.”

Åsa surveyed the gray fabric. “Yeah, but in what century?”

“You're really a terrible snob, you know that?” Natalia said as she stood and walked over to the door, opening it for Åsa.

“That is certainly a possibility,” Åsa admitted. “But you still know I'm right.”

“About what?”

Åsa laughed in that way that usually made men start bragging about their summer homes and offering to buy her drinks. “About everything, darling. About
everything
.”